All weekend and into the early part of this week, a Vesuvian plume of ash and smoke has risen from the Angeles National Forest from a wild fire that continues to burn out of control in the mountains just outside of LA.

Watching the ever-present, tragically beautiful mushroom cloud makes me feel like a citizen of Pompeii, hopeless and helpless and yet strangely awestruck by the shear force of a raging inferno. “Have you seen that cloud?” My neighbors ask. “Yeah, I’ve seen it,” as if a witness to something unforgettable. But it is fire season and I’ve seen these kinds of clouds, these ravaging flames before, and sadly I’ll see more next year, I suppose.

But this year it feels different. I’ve had a more somber orbit to my life as of late and watching a fire burn with such glee and indiscriminate furor leaves me to look to the heavens for answers. And the universe answers: “You turn 32 next Sunday. Please don’t light any candles near brush.”

Thanks, Uni.

Yes, it’s true…one-third of my trip on this dog-and-pony show is over, not that I’m complaining, just pensive.

If the cloud out my window wasn’t demonstrating life’s tenuous existence, then the pageantry of Senator Kennedy’s funeral was. Yes, I got sucked into MSNBC on Saturday and watched President W sit next to Hillary and Obama waxing like old chums with President Clinton. And as they flashed some photos of The Lion I was  reminded that without Teddy Kennedy, I might not be here today.

Back in 1969, my parents met while both working in Senator Kennedy’s senate office. Dad was officially working for Senator Walter Mondale on a report for an Indian Education subcommittee. But Teddy was also on the committee and had a great interest in it because it had been started by his then-late brother Senator Robert Kennedy. Much of the work was done in a clerical pool of Kennedy’s office, where my mother worked. In walks in Daddy-o looking all debonair with a draft of the Indian Report and the rest is history, or so I’m told.

Thanks, Ted. I’ll light a birthday candle in your honor and then properly extinguish it.