Fire Relief for Ellen and Ken

Hello, my name is Jenn Melyan, and I’m reaching out with a heavy heart to support my dear, dear friends Ellen Snortland & Ken Guberman. I also live in Pasadena. Ellen Snortland is my writing coach, mentor, and someone whom I love very, very dearly. The Eaton Fire in Los Angeles consumed their Altadena home.

The Day of the Fire

On the night of 01/07/2025, a wildfire swept through their Altadena neighborhood. Ellen and Ken left their neighborhood early, heeding the warning of their local weather guru Edgar McGregor. The fire destroyed their home and everything they owned.

Current Situation and Urgent Needs

Currently, Ellen, Ken, and their 3 adorable pups are staying with a friend. While they are grateful for his support, they still face urgent financial needs to cover supplies for themselves and their dogs, as well as costs associated with securing a more permanent living space.

How You Can Help (How the funds will be utilized):

We are seeking your support to help Ellen and Ken rebuild their lives and secure a safe and stable living environment. Every donation, no matter the size, brings them one step closer to recovering from this tragedy. Please consider donating and sharing this campaign to help spread the word. Together, we can make a meaningful difference in their journey toward recovery.

With so much gratitude

Thank you for your kindness and generosity during this difficult time. Your support means the world to Ellen and Ken, helping them find hope and strength as they rebuild their lives.

An Open Letter to Kali (Ellen's column about her experience):

Dear Kali,

I know you’re the Hindu Goddess of time, death, destruction, and rebirth, but stop now! There’s no need to show off.

Ken and I heeded the warnings of our hyper-local weather guru, Edgar McGregor, via his Facebook group and pre-emptively evacuated our Altadena home six hours before the flames hit the fan. We erred on the side of caution because Mr. McGregor is not prone to hyperbole. His message boiled down to: “When this windstorm hits, it’ll be catastrophic. If a fire breaks out, no one can combat it or save you. GET OUT NOW.” So we did. As NPR reported, his advice saved hundreds of people.

Panicked despite not yet smelling smoke or seeing flames, I was semi-paralyzed nonetheless. I dutifully typed up an “evac” list, which I now consider charming and stupid. Nordic trickster god Loki, whose element is fire and pranks, must have been running his software in the back of my head. I methodically packed everything for our three naughty dogs, who I adore, yet neglected things like underwear, a toothbrush, my mouth guard (which I sleep with so I don’t grind my teeth down to nubs), and other essentials. Then I thought, “I’ll grab my sister’s gorgeous mink coat; I don’t want her to be disappointed if I lose it in a fire.” You know how useful a mink coat is in a firestorm, right?

We thought we’d only have to stay with our friends overnight. We were wrong. Kali, you not only took our home but most of Altadena. The people of our beloved town are heartbroken, not just at losing our homes but our tight-knit neighborhoods. As cliché as it may sound, Altadena is not a place; it’s a mindset. Unique in all of Los Angeles, we are a beautiful mix of ages, races, genders, and income levels, where a bungalow starter home is right next to a turn-of-the-century mansion. Fire is a great equalizer. My darling friend and student Natali’s starter home was leveled as was the McNally mansion practically next door.

I had declared that 2025 would be my year of de-cluttering, but Kali — you and Mother Nature took the decluttering thing way too far! Overnight, I now have no clutter: zero, zilch, nada. I don’t have to decide who to saddle my belongings with when I shuffle off this mortal coil. I was thinking of naming a revenge executor, but there goes that plan.

We have lost so much. I’m now experiencing something like phantom limbs—phantom “stuff.” For example, I catch myself several times a day thinking, “Oh, I just need to grab my coffee. I know right where it is…oops, I know exactly where it was.”

Our income streams are severely diminished since they were tied to the house. After the great subprime mortgage disaster (Norse goddess Freya, was that you?), we almost lost our home to foreclosure because — optimist and idiot that I can be in equal measure — we took out a second mortgage to pay for finishing our documentary, “Beauty Bites Beast.” Not a great idea. We scrambled to meet our monthly nut by boarding people’s dogs, I started baking Norwegian Kransekake, and we created two Airbnb spaces on our property. All of those things were tied to having a house and large yard and a home for doggies to be loved and to roam. And all are gone.

We had an ADU that was a 1954 Prairie Schooner. It was very popular and consistently booked because it was so charming. Vintage RV aficionados loved it. Plus, it had a huge yard for people who travel with dogs. It’s gone, but the upside is that a problematic tenant, “Bob,” is also gone.

Ken and I were beside ourselves with how to evict Bob, who increasingly failed to pay his rent on time… if at all. He presented as a 20-year-old but was almost 40, and was a wannabe puppeteer, which, last I checked, is not a get-rich-quick scheme. Ken and I are also dreamers and creators, so we cut him some — well, too much — slack. His mother in Hawaii stepped in to pay his rent a few times since we depended on that income to pay our mortgage, taxes, and insurance. When he sold his pick-up, I thought, “Uh-oh — not a good sign.” When his phone broke, he didn’t replace it. He had his iMac where we could continue to text him, and he’d check it sporadically.

I texted to warn him about the apocalyptic predictions. “Get a burner phone and take the evacuation warnings seriously! Do you have friends you can stay with? If you’re at work, we’ll grab your dogs.” His responses were vague and lackadaisical, which also describes his personality. We had pits in our stomachs because we didn’t know what happened to him. Had he and his sweet dogs died in the RV? We finally found out from his mother that, at 3:00 a.m., he took his dogs while barefooted and flagged down a sheriff in the middle of the street. They took him to the Pasadena Convention Center, where he partnered with someone else to book a dog-friendly motel.

I’ve been toggling back and forth between grief at our collective loss and relief at being alive. I also felt terror regarding Bob’s fate. I’m a functioning mess. I’m cross-eyed over what to do next, and the fires still rage with no end in sight.

Geez, Kali. Back off! We’ve suffered unimaginable devastation. Happy now? Good… now, leave us alone.