There was an article several weeks ago in the Los Angeles Times about “opening night” on Christmas Tree Lane in Altadena, the night that the lights on the trees along the street were turned on for the first time for the holiday season. It was particularly special and poignant this year, because it was the first such gathering since the fires in January in which thousands of homes and other buildings were destroyed, many others were damaged and some two dozen people were killed. The trees and houses along the street were left intact while most of the surrounding town was destroyed or heavily damaged.
A few days later, a woman spoke in (Quaker) meeting about having gone to the opening. She had lived in the area for years in the past and said that the evening was a very special, moving reunion after a trauma like the Eaton fire 11 months ago.
I was intrigued – intrigued and inspired. I had heard about Christmas Tree Lane, saw the sign on the freeway, for years. I decided to check it out. (Since the fire, a part of me wanted to see the area, but that seemed ghoulish, like disaster porn, like slowing down to see an accident on the freeway. Seeing Christmas Tree Lane was an excuse.)
I went a few evenings later and found it striking in a muted way. The lane itself – several blocks of a residential street – is quite special in a quiet, homey way, with the tall pine trees lining both sides of the street draped with old-fashioned, colored lights. The lights were donated by the Disney Company – sixty of its employees lost their homes in the fire – but there was nothing commercial about the scene. The “Altadena Strong” signs and other hand-made sentiments added a poignant, timely note to this unique happening in this community known as a quiet community with a notable diversity and populated with a surprising number of artists.
What was most striking, though, is the way it stood out in the area. I’m sure this unusual alignment of pines garlanded with Christmas lights always stands out. But, after driving through the area with large darkened swaths in sight, left ravaged by the Eaton fire, it really stands out.
It is sad to see all this darkness, all this destruction, in the next blocks over. You could say that Christmas Tree Lane, with its lights shining out, makes it all the sadder. Yes, it is sad – it is tragic – but Christmas Tree Lane this year is a striking, powerful reminder that, as we need to remember in these sad, darkened times and to paraphrase Quaker founder George Fox, the light always overcomes the darkness.