From the Left



Smoke in the air, heroes on the ground

Susan Estrich on

The kind people of my city, who flooded the television stations with calls to help that 76-year-old man, who have opened their homes and their hearts to people with only the clothes on their back: They are my heroes.

The friends who picked up the phone to call, knowing I was alone, to make sure I was OK. Oh, it's far away, I said, as I studied my map, to make sure the lines hadn't changed. Really, not so far away, looking at it again.

What would I take? I watched the people packing up their cars. With my dogs, what would I have room for? What do I really need?

I looked around my house, full of pictures and mementos, things you take for granted, presents my kids made at school 15 or 20 years ago: I would take those. But not much else. Everything else was just things.

"I'm not sleeping very well," one of my friends said last night, in our check-in call. Who is? Another alert just came in, high winds expected, stay tuned.


I don't think anyone in Los Angeles will sleep well tonight. But what a city: not of angels but of heroes.


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