My home is gone. I need your help.

On January 8, I fled my home with just the clothes on my back, just steps ahead from the fire.

This is the last photograph taken in my home in Altadena. For more than 30 years, that little house had been host to intimate dinners, celebratory parties, late night bread making, two beloved dogs, long hours of coffee-fueled writing, and a love affair that ended far too soon.

When I retired last year (for the third time), the house and its garden became a place to dream about world travel, college classes I would take to improve myself, marathon bike rides, and easing the stress built up over two pressure-cooker careers (L.A. Times and then ACLU). I did some of that.

But the truth is, I mainly loved hanging around the house, especially when there were visitors. Especially when they brought along a dog like Kai (pictured with me) who loved cuddling as much as me.

All that was over on January 8, when I left the house for the last time with only the clothes on my back and an iPad. The house and garden burned to the ground.

I am far luckier than so many because friends took me in. But it will be a long time — perhaps years — before I have a place again for gathering. In the meantime, there are expenses never planned for at this stage of my life.

Contributions, no matter how small, would be greatly appreciated.