Comfy Reg (Photo courtesy of author)
It was only a few days ago that I sent the photo above of New Year’s Day in La Cañada to friends on the frigid East Coast and Europe, in the same spirit that the sadistic American Captain Black in Catch-22 greets the news that the air crews under his command will be going on a dangerous bombing run to Bologna. “Oh, boy. I can’t wait to see those bastards’ faces when they find out they’re going to Bologna…. Eat your livers, you bastards.”
By Reg Green
I should have remembered that mortals are courting disaster when they boast of power that rightfully belongs to the gods. Last Wednesday morning, at six, my wife woke me to say everyone in our neighborhood in La Cañada was being mandatorily evacuated because fierce winds were driving a forest fire straight at us.
An hour or so later we were checking into the Pasadena Convention Center along with hundreds of equally dejected citizens. As we did, I distinctly heard Vulcan at his heavenly forge jeering, “Bon appétit, smartass.”
At the Pasadena Convention Center (Photo – Reg Green)
Once we understood that the fire danger area was concentrated in L.A. and surrounds, however, we realized that by driving half an hour east we’d be in a normal winter for these parts (70⁰ F, blue skies, and gentle breezes.) Also less crowded lodgings. The party (or, to be more accurate, the women in the party) promptly found and booked an Airbnb for a couple of nights.
So we retraced the last section of the route that the Joad family took on their journey to California in Grapes of Wrath, and here we are: just off the Route 66 that they made notorious and within hearing distance of the plaintive cry of trains heading on their long frigid way across the mountains and plains to Chicago and points east. So, Vulcan, stick that anvil of yours where the sun never shines. We humans aren’t finished yet.
Son and grand-daughter out where the blue begins (Photo – Reg Green)
Leave a Reply