What a difference a year makes. A year ago today I forgot to write a column.
It was an honest mistake. I spent most of that particular day alternating between a hot tub and swimming pool at a house once owned by a Backstreet Boy high in the hills above Malibu. You could rent it on AirBnB.
We were on a short vacation before the yearly conference in Los Angeles. 9 of us in the house made it affordable. The foundation paid our travel expenses to get out there and back. I had planned on writing a column when I flew out there the Monday before. I'd done it every year before, after all.
My deadline coincided with our last full day off. We'd be heading downtown to the conference the next morning. I got lost in California dreaming and maybe a couple of bloody mary's. For whatever reason, I forgot I even wrote a column. I didn't remember until two days later.
Under normal circumstances, I'd be out there this week. But circumstances haven't been all that normal since.
During the conference I noticed I was losing my voice. A month or so later I went to the doctor when I started having trouble swallowing.
You all know where that story goes. Now a year later, I hadn't planned on going to the conference because I wasn't sure I'd be off the ride yet. Even if I'd been cleared for travel in time, L.A. would not be fun without teeth and that'll be mid-March at best.
Turns out it doesn't matter. The conference was postponed last week due to the ongoing fires around Los Angeles. As of this writing, over 14,000 buildings have burned.
Including that house once owned by a Backstreet Boy inhabited one year ago by a gang of east Kentucky hillbillies. I've suspected it might have burned because it was within the northwestern fireline of the Palisades fire. But it finally showed up on the map of burned structures, with a photo for confirmation, when I checked today. Most of the houses on the road it was on are gone, too.
It's easy to think, so what? Those people are rich and it doesn't matter if they lose a house. Anyone who saw where and how the homes were built would recognize if a wildfire doesn't get it, a landslide surely will.
But here's the thing about that house. The Backstreet Boy sold it to a young family that ended up raising their kids there. After the kids left home, the parents moved to a smaller house and kept the house for income. The house was full of unique artwork and family memories. There was not one sign of a former pop star inhabitant.
Except maybe the view.
While it's clearly out of fashion amongst the sanctimonious, it's not a bad thing to remember WWJD in these times. Whether you're trying to make sense of the latest natural disaster or if you find yourself speaking before the powerful.
If you need a visual cue, google Right Rev. Mariann Edgar Budde. The Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Washington demonstrated just what Jesus would do given the opportunity.