The beginning of September ushered in a heat wave of epic proportion. It was the kind of heat that inspired imagery. As the poet Hilda Doolittle wrote, “Fruit cannot drop through this thick air—fruit cannot fall into heat that presses up and blunts the points of pears and rounds the grapes.” 

It was also the kind of heat that endangered crops and livestock. It was the kind of heat that taxed the power grid. It was the kind of heat that wedged itself into conversations about the ethics of envi...

Wednesday, January 8, 2025. The day had aspired to be like any other. Instead, dawn ushered in a mere shadow of normalcy as the Palisades Fire took hold in Topanga.

Despite evacuation orders, many canyon dwellers stayed behind—some out of sheer confidence that the fire would never reach their neighborhood, others out of sheer confidence it would. They remained vigilant, some banding together to form citizen firefighting brigades.
These brave souls extinguished burning embers when they saw them, and contacted the authorities if the situation called for it. In Viewridge, a neighborhood at the northern tip of Topanga that abuts the well trod Santa Maria Canyon Trail, a night patrol formed.

“The volcano is a she; the locals know, and that is how we refer to her. La Montagna.” Our guide through the vineyard on a northern slope of Mount Etna casts his eyes across the land. This particular business owns four hectares that are host to volcanic enriched soil, and is one of many wine producers in the region. 

My family and I spent the better part of June traveling around Italy. Our journey took us to Sicily, the ancestral home of my family of origin,

Tell me you’ve seen The Bear, FX’s emmy-nominated masterpiece about an Italian American family and a Chicago greasy spoon made good. Last season we saw our hero, Carmy, inherit a sandwich shop, struggle with making sense of family drama, and learn to live gracefully in spite of it all. This season we step inside his backstory, most notably in the talked about ‘fishes’ episode. For those of you who need further explanation, episode six of The Bear, season two, goes back in time to Carmy’s childhood home, where loved ones have gathered for the Feast of the Seven Fishes. This is a good time to clarify that most feasts aren’t as packed with drama and chaos as the aforementioned on screen depiction. Though, if you’re into that kind of thing, Jamie Lee Curtis delivers a spectacular performance guest starring as Carmy’s mother, and if there is any justice in this world she will take home some accolades during awards season. I digress.

The Feast of the Seven Fishes is an Italian American tradition celebrated on December 24, Christmas Eve, with an abundance of seafood. Traditionally, Roman Catholics abstain from meat on the eve of major holidays, and the Roman Catholic Church has been the dominant religion in Italy for over 1,500 years. The feast here in the States was started around the turn of the twentieth century by immigrants wishing to feel close to the old country. The meal consists of seven different seafood dishes, the number seven being a nod to the seven Catholic sacraments, the seven hills of Rome surrounding the city, and the seventh day of rest in the biblical creation story. Though that’s simply an educated guess, as there is no official documentation on what the number seven actually represents.

Throughout history and across cultures, the human experience has called us to gather in celebration of simply being alive. One tradition after another, we mark the passing of time. It was Joseph Campbell who postulated that tradition is simply a ritual, and what is ritual if not the reenactment of myth? At the heart of his theory is the hero’s journey, and the idea that all myths have this common theme. A hero figure leaves home, has adventures in some other place, and then returns to the community with gifts to share.

The lazy last days of summer are upon us, ushering in sunny afternoons and balmy nights. The neighborhood kids are out in full force with bubbles, bikes, and popsicles. Some things never change. I have, however, noticed something different from my childhood with respect to family dinners out. Back in the day, I was often offered a ‘Shirley Temple’ with my meal—a drink made with lemon-lime soda or ginger ale and a splash of red grenadine, garnished with a maraschino cherry. I really only accepted...

It was a sweltering late summer afternoon, and I could hear the chatter below: “How long has she been in the attic? It’s pretty hot up there…is Mama ever coming back down?”

I had discovered a box of books and spiral-bound notes from a previous lifetime—i.e. the nineties—when I was a university student studying film theory and production. Memories washed over me, transporting my mind and heart to a time when the life-changing, captivating power of story was everything. Beyond academics, the camaraderie of like-minded undergrads fostered a sense of community and common purpose. Enter Adam Noble Roberts of Topanga Film Festival (TFF), whose goal as newly minted Director of Programming is to give every ticket holder a similar experience with each screening.

I like to refer to myself as a World War II scholar, a label my husband reminds me might more appropriately be termed ‘buff’. My father was born on D-Day, the 1944 invasion of Normandy, France that marked the Allies’ advancement and the turn of the tide for control of the region. The nurses who should have been assisting my grandmother with her labor and delivery were huddled around a radio, anxiously awaiting news from the front.