Iam dipping metaphoric apples into honey this week as I prepare for Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year. The tradition is a symbol of hope for a sweet new year. Given the unsettled nature of the world, in addition to my own community of Altadena still struggling after the fires, sweetness has taken on a new meaning for me.

It may have always been secreted away in places where I didn’t look, but this year, at this time, I am reflecting on some of the people who have unexpectedly been the apples who brought honey to my life during the past year.

My family across the street, as I call them, housed me and hugged me during the months I was evacuated from my home. “Of course you’ll come stay with us,” they said as if it was not a big deal. We’ve been friends for 40-some years, but living togethe

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