Jon

Jon and I have very different cultural contexts and, not surprisingly, we navigate the world in different ways. Even so, I very much resonate with his love for people and his “up for things” tendency. He and his family moved to Los Angeles a little over a year ago—without knowing the city or anyone living here, really—and I’ve been impressed by his desire to embrace the unknown. Jon decided to use the 30 sentences as another exercise of stepping out his comfort zone. Using a real-life incident as a jumping-off point, he created a fictional story about finding joy in the unlikeliest of places.

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You would be surprised how few people stop to help you when your car is engulfed in flames in the middle of the Pacific Coast Highway on a holiday weekend. Even the cows grazing on the overlooking hillside could not be bothered to give the spectacle more than a passing glance. My family on the other hand could not take their eyes off the wheeled inferno as we sat in the grass. It is not often that you see your family vacation literally go up in smoke.

The two state troopers who were first on the scene of our “disabled vehicle,” as they called it, were doing there best to hide their own amazement at the sight.

“You might have had a shot at salvaging some of it if all of our fire trucks were not committed to the Big Sur forest fires.” Said the portly Officer Hahn.

“It was on its last legs anyway.” I replied. “We had just hoped it would last for one final road trip. Kind of ironic that it went out this way, seeing as it had that old wood paneling on the side and all.”

“Hmpph” he politely laughed. “Can we give you a ride to a rental car lot or a hotel or something?” Hahn offered.

“Actually, my brother in law is driving up from LA to pick us up and take us home. I think we will just walk into this park area and wait for him, but thanks.”

I turned to walk back to my wife who was consoling our two kids after the ordeal.

“Uncle Dan will be here in an hour or so, let’s head over to the park and eat our lunch while we wait.”

My wife pushed our kids towards the park playground and they took off running.

“We always say kids are resilient, but this might be a bit much to ask of them, honey.” Kris said. “Are we just going to go home then?”

I sighed. “I know, I really needed a few days at the beach myself before we launched into the fall chaos. But without the car and the kids clothes, it would be a miserable three days.”

“I’m just glad we got our bags out before the flames got really big.” Kristyn replied. “At least we got the cooler. Why don’t I get lunch set up on the table by the shade.”

“Ok, thanks.” I replied as I walked over to the kids.

Jack had climbed to the top of the jungle gym and Addy was hanging upside down from her kneed alongside him.

“Dad! Come up here!” Jack yelled down. “I can see the ocean from here.”

I dragged my middle-aged body up a apparatus not made for men with chronic back pain wearing boat shoes. But the kid was right. From atop the metal pyramid you could see over the low trees and on to the breakers crashing along the shoreline.

“Dad, if you hang upside down it looks like the blue waves are the sky.” Said Addy. “It kind of looks like Heaven is trying to break out and come down to Earth.”

The three of us sat there for ten minutes or so watching the surfers in the distance and pretending to be sports commentators describing their rides and wipeouts. Kris broke up our laughter with her call to lunch and we climbed down and raced each other to the picnic table.

Sitting across from my kids as they helped each other make sandwiches and pour out chips, I became aware of the broad smile that had washed over my face.

“Alright, before we eat.” I said to get the family’s attention. “I want to offer a toast. Here is to my amazing family and your incredible recovery today. And to Addy for helping Dad realize that when life turns you upside down sometimes it gives you just the perspective you need to really see what is important in life.”

“Here, Here!” yelled my theatrical son with the energy of an Irish pub mate as he held up his can of Sprite.

The family laughed as I took my seat and made a plate of food.

“So Dad, why did our car catch on fire?” Addy asked.

“God only knows, sweetie.” I replied. “God only knows.”