Growing up, my regular view out of the car window was the Hollywood sign, the Griffith Observatory and the beach on the drive to school. My commutes to my various schools in the city smelled simultaneously of gasoline, the sweet smell of jasmine in the spring, freshly-cut grass and salt air.
It could be because I didn’t grow up in the Palisades that it felt so special to me to be on the bus early in the morning to high school in the little enclave just beyond Santa Monica city limits. I went to Palisades Charter High School all four years and graduated on that football field where “Modern Family,” “Freaky Friday” and “Teen Wolf” were filmed. It felt idyllic to go to school so close to the ocean — the one that had previously only been reserved for Sunday morning fun in the summer. The ocean felt untouchable, the school felt untouchable, and the neighborhood — “the village” — where I would go pin up posters for school events with friends felt untouchable. No one could have guessed that we would watch it go up in flames on the local news.
To say it’s been a hard week has been an understatement. For those of us that have grown up here, we’ve known these streets our whole lives. It seems like everyone in Los Angeles knows someone who lost everything and more often than not, it’s not just one person.
L.A. has always been special to me. I had no desire to leave once I graduated high school — I stayed in my hometown and attended the University of Southern California. During my time at USC, I wrote a column for its legendary Daily Trojan newspaper. No matter how often I tried to write about different things, I always came back to the same subject: L.A.
I was, and still am, in love with my hometown. How could I not be? The city is like a debut starlet. It’s a little messy; it might not know entirely what it’s doing; but it’s gorgeous and enchanting. I wrote about our jacaranda trees, about the fact that we are a reading city, those canyon roads, and about Joan Didion – patron saint of the Santa Anas.
I wrote in my “swan song” piece at the end of my time at USC that I was leaving the university “a little more in love” with Los Angeles and it’s evident in my writing. In one of my columns, I wrote about how some of the L.A. aesthetic always consisted of long drives to strip malls and how it’s where you’ll get some of the best food. You park on the street (double check the signs because it’s easy to get a ticket!) and bring a jacket because it’s cold in the evenings and you walk into a restaurant that has very clearly been around since the ‘80s and the menus are covered in sticky plastic.
My love for the city is all too clear in my writing, including passages like: “I love this city. I love driving in any direction and getting delicious food. I love Jonathan Gold, The Beach Boys, and screaming Randy Newman’s ‘I Love L.A.’ with all the Lakers fans in the nosebleed seats after a win.”
What I didn’t write about at USC was our Jewish community. Maybe it felt too dear? Too personal to unleash in my college paper?
The community that I grew up in feels so rare. It’s true that Los Angeles is a massive city (my friends in the valley and I joke that we’re in a long distance relationship), but we can come together like no other. Jewish Angelenos who grew up here are at the boss level of Jewish geography. I’ll go to parties and our conversation will end up being “which synagogue did you grow up going to?” and will inevitably become a version of “did you go to camp with him?” or “did you go to Jewish Day School with her?”
Of course, all Jewish communities feel special in their own way, don’t they? They feel special because, at the end of the day, they’re the ones we belong to. I’ve criss-crossed this notoriously busy city and turned over rocks to learn more about it because I’ve found this L.A. Jewish community so beautiful. So many people come to this city to “make it” in Hollywood and come to synagogue or community events because someone back home told them how important it is to be involved in Jewish life. They come because they don’t know where else to find that comfort, that taste of home, and it’s easy to do so no matter which Jewish community you come from. Persian Jews, Middle Eastern North African Jews, South African Jews and Ashkenazi Jews are all interwoven in this city. According to 2021 numbers, half of Jewish households in L.A. include an immigrant to the United States or someone whose parent is an immigrant.
I’ve been a member of three – count ‘em! – synagogues, went to a Jewish college just outside the valley before I went to USC and I’ve barely scratched the surface of the diversity of political and religious belief in the city. I went to Jewish day school and have worked at Jewish organizations and I still don’t know everyone when I play Jewish geography with a new acquaintance. I live in one of the most densely populated Jewish areas of the city and I still haven’t eaten at the one kosher restaurant that everyone wants me to go to.
For people who have never visited L.A., or who have only been here on vacation once or twice, it may be hard to imagine exactly what has been lost. I hope when you read about my Jewish community — my home — you can see more clearly what Angelenos are grappling with losing. Keep Jewish Los Angeles in your thoughts. It’s a special community because all Jewish communities are special. It’s unique — and it’s universal. Just because it’s hurting, does not mean it’s gone. Our community matters now more than ever, and I’m so grateful to be a part of it.
If you feel moved to help out, there are a number of ways to do so:
- Donate to the LAFD Foundation
- Support the rebuilding efforts and community efforts of Kehillat Israel and the Pasadena Jewish Temple and Center
- Donate to Pasadena Humane’s Emergency Fund or Best Friends as they save animals.
- Help out at a supplies drive in your area
- Plan your giving. People will need help in the coming weeks, months, and throughout this year.
- Reach out to your L.A. area friends and let us know that you’re thinking of us.
