How I landed my first job

The first time I drove into a wildfire, I was just 25. It didn't seem like that big of a deal at the time. I really wanted a newspaper job and the day of my interview happened to coincide with day two or three of a very large wildfire in Southern California. So of course the editor, being short staffed, sent me up the mountain. Thanks goodness I wasn't wearing a skirt and heels.

I drove up in my 1978 Datsun, without air conditioning. I rolled down the windows, but a little ways up, smoke and heat came pouring through. Firefighters in full gear stood on both sides of the road, mopping up hot spots. I talked my way past a police officer, using the editor's business card, as I'd been instructed. I was starting to sweat in my sensible khaki pants and knit top.

At some point, I turned a corner and the fire trucks disappeared. I had made it to the evacuation center near Lake Idyllwild. Helicopters hovered overhead, headed for the lake, where they refilled the giant buckets they used for airdrops. I found a few campers stranded there, who told me their stories. My recently acquired cell phone didn't work up in the mountains so I found a pay phone. (Yes, I'm dating myself; it was 1999).  The newsroom told me that the road I had just come through had been closed. I'd have to make my way down on the other side of the mountain. Well, it would take me twice as long, but at least I didn't have to drive through the fire.

When I got back to the office, night had fallen. I fed my quotes to the story's lead writer. The editor then put me in charge of tracking the fire's progress. I worked with the graphics department to update the map of the blaze. I don't remember how many of the quotes I'd gathered ended up in the story, which is now behind a pay wall. I do know the story landed on the paper's front page the next day. The job offer came a few days later.

Pictures from the Jan. 11 solidarity march in Paris

More than one million people took to the streets of Paris Sunday, Jan. 11, to show their support for the victims of two terrorist attacks that took place in the city last week. They included famous cartoonists and less famous journalists, as well as policemen and several innocent bystanders who were shopping in a kosher supermarket.
My father was one of the marchers and took these pictures.