Life is Rebellion | Marina Sadorian Knapp | TEDxPasadena
URL: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bT6QKZQ7BfY Video ID: bT6QKZQ7BfY ============================================================ Transcriber: Trân Phan Huyền Reviewer: NGUYEN THANH DAT� DCVX So usually I'm the one behind the camera. As a producer for Entertainment the questions. I'm the one telling other people's stories. But today I'm going to tell all of you my story. My family and I lost our home on January 8th in the LA wildfires, specifically the Eaton Fire in Altadena. We got our evacuation notice at 726 the night before, and initially we weren't going to leave. By about 1130, the winds hadn't died down and the fire had spread so quickly it seemed like a wise precaution to go. We just never imagined we'd be leaving for good. It's funny the things you actually take when you're forced to leave. Of course. We grabbed our pictures and our passports and documents. I grabbed my dad's two accordions. But you're not really thinking clearly in the moment. You’re reacting, seeing in front of Which isn't much, because the power's out and you’re doing all of this withsad little flashlight, phone, because you don’t have the presence to grab the flashlight, left in the drawer. The flashlight for just such an emergency. It’s only the fact that you start Like, I really wish I had taken the sweet little candy dish that I've had since I was seven years old. It was a gift from a family friend who's passed away, to see it made me smile. It made me think of her. I wish I had my grandmother's copper bowl, and I really wish I had all of my books, like my torn up little copy of Walden that I've kept since high school because I'm a nerd. Or my collection of cookbooks. It took me so long to create, but of course, it's a cruel game that you're playing because you can't grab everything, and everything holds emotional value. So every day you're just you're remembering all of these things that you should have grabbed. There were a lot of things that I reached for. Um, but in the moment I thought, I have nothing to pack these in. They’ll probably break get them back. They're safer here. I was the last one to leave our house before I did. I took one last look around. I thanked our house for sheltering us for 22 years. I asked it to be safe and still be there for us when we got back. I said a prayer and I walked out. We spent that night at my mom's and by 830 the next morning, we had lost a front bedroom. Now, the firefighters had been camped out on our street able to put initial blaze. But by 3:00 that afternoon, our entire house was gone. The firemen were still there, but the hook and ladder was even still driveway. But the water pressure was nonexistent, all they could do was stand there and watch our house burn. So there it was, our forever home. The home my husband, I raised our two daughters where we celebrated birthdays and graduations and holidays, and hosted baby showers and New Year's Eve parties and countless dinner parties. It was all gone. All the family heirlooms. Like the armoire that my grandfather built out of the shipping crates that he and my grandmother used to come to America was gone. The silverware my husband inherited from his grandmother gone. All the artwork from our friends, paintings, pottery pieces, all the drawings our aughters had done, notes, cards that they had done over the years for us, it was all gone. And I know it's just stuff. I've been told that many times over the last few months, but to be honest, that does not make me feel any better because all of that stuff is a physical manifestation of who we are. It's a curated collection of memories. It's a it's a record of life that connects us to our past and enables our futures. So to lose all of that stuff leaves you feeling untethered in this world. Now, while Altadena was burning, I kept working. I was in the middle of developing a special with my producing producing partner. And in light of what had just happened, my boss is very kindly asked if I wanted to step away. I didn't. I couldn't. I couldn't abandon my partner and I just couldn't quit. So few weeks , I ran colleague surprised to see me at the office, and she asked me how I was still functioning and why I was still working, and said if she'd been in my place, she would have been a wreck. Now, to be honest, I love my job and in hindsight, this was less about resilience and more about still being in shock. But also I could only keep moving forward. I just I just had to keep moving. So it made me think a lot. And I kept this phrase, just kept coming back to me. Something I'd been told as a kid was life is rebellion. the I realized I was doing was rebelling. We were in a circumstance not of our choosing, but that didn’t mean that we were powerless, mean that our lives, our lives were stopping because of this terrible thing happened. So for a little background, I am the granddaughter of Armenian Genocide survivors. So perseverance is in our DNA. My grandfather was nine years old when he lost his entire family. He was a sole survivor, and against all odds, he went on to create a family of his own. He had five children, who he named after all the people that he had lost. And I realized he was rebelling against his own circumstances. And if he hadn't, I wouldn't be here now. So for the first time, when I saw what was left of our home flames still dancing in the corners of what was once our kitchen, all I could think was, at least we weren't forced out at gunpoint under a threat of annihilation like my grandparents were. It was the first and only consoling thought that I had. But to be fair, that is the only reaction to have. Because the loss of life, the loss of loved ones, is irreparable. We all know that. But losing your place in this world is challenging. Every step of moving on is a reminder of what you don't have anymore. I mean, realizing you need more underwear on day two is a ridiculous reality check, and trying to replace everyday household items is brutal. I learned this when I tried to replace all of our kitchen gear. My family loves to cook. This was a big step for us. It was moving forward for us. So I made a big list and went to the store and as I was placing this massive order, I started to feel very self-conscious. This was a lot of stuff. So I started to explain salesperson that we just lost our home and cooking was healing for us, and he was very kind. And he said a lot of people had been coming in. He understood. He said, in fact, a woman had been in a couple And when he asked her if she needed help, she started to cry. She told him she was seeing all the things and the enormity of trying to move forward was so overwhelming she needed to come back another time. In that moment, I felt such compassion for this woman. my heart broke for her until several hours later I realized that woman was me. I'd been in the store a couple of weeks earlier. He was a salesperson who asked me if I needed help, and that was a bit of a wake up call. So I started thinking a lot about my dad. What wisdom would he give me? How would he help me through a situation like this? What would he have to say? My dad passed away ten years ago after a lengthy battle with lung cancer. He. He went through countless surgeries, rounds of chemo, and I never heard him once complain. Just like his dad, my grandfather, he rebelled. He never missed a day of work and a chance to spend time with his granddaughters. He just kept going. As I've looked back on that time with him, I know he kept going to protect me. I remember asking he dealt with the loss of father, because I couldn't imagine a world without my own dad. And he smiled and he looked at me and he said, the human mind is a curious thing. It feels intense pain, but over time it heals and we move on. He said I'd be okay because I would have to be. So here's what I know. Perseverance comes from perspective and purpose, and it's a choice, at least for me. So here's my perspective. I hate everything about this. I am angry and I'm sad. I'm angry that thousands of lives were disrupted, and worse yet, so many lives were lost, seemingly because of someone else's negligence. I'm angry that my daughters and my husband had everything taken away from them, and that they felt the fear and trauma that comes with being displaced. I'm angry that I'll never get to play my piano again. I’m sad because to spend the next two years rebuilding instead of just living our lives. But I also know it could be worse. It could always be worse. And there is still beauty left in this world. I keep moving forward for the people that I love because they deserve that and they're all that matters. That's my purpose. But I did learn something new. I learned that there is strength in accepting help. Within a day of the fires, our friends rallied around us very quietly. They didn't ask us what we needed. They just did it. Suddenly, within a day, boxes of shoes and clothes were showing up and much to our embarrassment, money was showing up in Kevin's Venmo account. A dear friend replaced my favorite coffee mug and my comfy robe just so that I had something that felt like home again. the love generosity and the kindness that was sent our way was unlike anything I have ever experienced in my life. I think I would very different head space had they not embraced us the way they did. So I think we all have the ability to get through anything. We just have to choose to rebel. Lead with loving kindness and just keep going. We collectively, collectively did it through Covid. We're doing it through the aftermath of the wildfires. And like my dad said, we feel the pain, but we heal and we move on. We go back to what's left over our house a lot. The glass and bricks and concrete are all cleared away. All that's left is a dirt patch and some charred trees. But within a few weeks of the fires, we noticed our vegetable garden was thriving. Kale, lettuces. Our pomegranate tree had more blossoms than I've ever seen in my life. Nature was moving on, but it was all toxic, of course, but it was still a sign. So, Altadena. And yes, we'll rebuild. We're not rebuilding the same exact home because it will never be the same Our house would have been 100 years old this year, but we have plans for something new. parties there again. We'll have dinner parties and celebrate graduations and birthdays eventually. But what I know now is to be grateful and always choose to rebel. And now I'd like to officially get back behind the camera. Thank you.