January 2026

Homeless

By Karen Bagnard
Posted: 07/24/2025

Chelsea and Wes were there to greet us and hug us.  Their home was cozy and warm.  The guest room was ready for me and a sofa awaited Dalton.  The TV was showing the fire news.  It was unbelievable.

I slept well, as I always do.  I woke to a bad dream.  The fire did not seem real.  I wanted to wake up.

At breakfast Dalton and Chelsea decided to drive up to Altadena to find out if our house was still standing.  Nothing on the news could confirm one way or the other.  I didn’t want to go and they didn’t want me to go.

I spent my time returning calls from worried friends.  Wes makes the best coffee and I drank too much of it.  I felt safe and lost at the same time.  I think I was in some kind of shock.

Chelsea and Dalton returned.  As I sat at the dining room table waiting to “hear the verdict”, Chelsea said, “Mom, the house is gone.”

“It’s completely gone?”  I couldn’t believe this had happened.

Chelsea and Dalton stood with sorrowful faces and nodded their heads.

“Mom, I found something for you,” Chelsea said.  She pulled out a bundle wrapped in an old towel..  As I took it, I felt how warm it was.  I unwrapped the towel to find one of my Danish plates.  It was hot from the fire but unbroken, no chips, no cracks and just a dab of silver that had melted on one edge of it. 

I held it and cried.  It felt like a miracle.  How could this one plate have survived a fire that brought the entire wall of plates down.  This came from my mother’s family.  The most amazing miraculous thing of all was it was the plate with the mermaid in Copenhagen Harbor. 

I am an artist who has drawn and painted mermaids all my life.  I can no longer do that because of my blindness.  Here was this mermaid plate in my hands, still warm from the fire.  It represented my Danish heritage, the love of my family and my love of mermaids and other fantasy creatures.  To me it was a sign of hope. 

After finding this plate, Chelsea felt compelled to write about it.  She sent the story to our friend, Vibeke Fong, who is active at the Danish Lutheran Church and Cultural Center in Yorba Linda.   

On the Sunday after the Eaton fire, the pastor at the Danish Lutheran Church told the story in his sermon.  From there it was picked up in the Danish-American Newsletter.  The following Monday, I received an email from the Danish-American Museum in Elk Horn, Iowa, with an offer to replace all of my plates. 

This was just the beginning of a shower of kindnesses, supportive offers and financial help from friends and strangers.   

I remember sitting at the edge of the bed in the guest room at Chelsea’s.  I thought to myself, “I’m homeless.  What will become of me?” 

I looked down at myself and realized, I’m here.  I’m alive.  Days will come and go and I will be in them.  I don’t know what is next but I am here and I am safe.

Dalton, my grandson, and I never did get an evacuation notice.