Standing in line waiting for the post office to open, a man about my age wearing jeans, a jacket, woolen cap (it was 48 degrees F outside), and hiking books, walking in circles in the foyer after I told him the doors would open in 15 minutes.

“I don’t know what address to have things sent to me,” he said.

“Did you lose your home in the fires?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“In Altadena?”

“No. The Palisades. Fifty years in my house. Everything’s gone. Maybe it’s a good thing,” he said almost dispassionately.

“I’m so sorry,” I said.

“Do you believe in God?” he asked me.

“In a holistic way – yes.” I answered.

“Like Noah in the Bible?” he asked.

“No. In Noah’s day the Bible said the flood was punishment for the sins of Noah’s generation. Your loss had nothing to do with that. This was a natural catastrophe made impossible by ferocious winds that even the best fire-fighters couldn’t put out until after everything was destroyed.”

“I have 4 children and grandchildren all here in LA. I’m lucky,” he said as he left the post office. He didn’t return.

That entire conversation lasted no more than 60 seconds, and it could have been repeated 12,000 times, once for each of the structures destroyed last week.

I can’t imagine what he must be feeling, though I did believe it could have happened to my wife and me. We were fortunate that it didn’t.