Los Angeles: Our Sun-Soaked Shangri-La is burning!

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From the desk of the CEO

I landed in Southern California, metro LA to be exact, in 1979. Why? I had just wrapped up a multi-year gig in Japan and wanted proximity and access to my recently adopted culture. Originally from the East Coast, I’d heard all the stereotypes about LA: surfers, actors, avocado-eating health nuts, crystal-healing weirdos, or worse—hopelessly liberal folks basking in the land of perpetual sunshine and very few rules. "Carefree" was about the nicest adjective the rest of the country could muster. Still, I rolled the dice, and surprise—It turns out LA isn’t just a sunlit postcard of stereotypes. It’s a place pulsing with decency, hard work, and moral significance.

Greater Los Angeles is home to roughly 18 million people. Toss in the undocumented population, and you might as well call it 20 million. Let’s get one thing straight: in the 46 years I’ve lived here, "carefree" is the last word I’d use to describe this city. Sure, the sunshine is seductive—it gets under your skin in the best way—but look closer. Beneath the Ray-Bans and SPF 50, you’ll find millions of people grinding away every day to keep the world’s 5th largest GNP from crashing. It ain’t easy, folks.

And living here? Not a cakewalk. Since moving to LA, I’ve endured the 6.7 Northridge earthquake, the Rodney King riots, several apocalyptic fires, the Metro Blue Line train crash, Kobe’s tragic passing, and, oh yeah, a global pandemic. Trolls on the internet love to call us the modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah, deserving of every calamity that comes our way. To that, I say: A. that’s nonsense, and B. no one deserves the destruction and heartbreak fires unleash—not the people, not the animals, not the environment, and not even the economy.

Here’s the only way to frame this latest disaster: a damned shame. Those impacted by the fires—directly or indirectly—deserve compassion, prayers, and support. Whether our governments (local, state, or federal) will rise to the occasion remains to be seen. And maybe, just maybe, the vultures—those feathery opportunists in cheap suits—will circle somewhere else, leaving LA to heal in peace. But I’ll tell you who’s already shown up: Angelenos. These are the hard-working, compassionate, roll-up-your-sleeves kind of people who fill donation centers with food, clothing, and toys for displaced families. They volunteer their time, open their homes, and remind us all that humanity’s heart still beats strong, even in the middle of a catastrophe. The values on display here—the kindness, solidarity, and generosity—are strikingly similar to the Midwestern kindness I’ve experienced in Chicago, where people pull together in times of need without hesitation. It makes me proud to live here and there. It also makes me hopeful that the greater family of man really does exist. And, at the end of the day, we’re all fortunate to be part of it. Because in moments like this, the true strength of our communities shines through: we don’t just survive together—we thrive together.

This isn’t a plea for help or a nudge toward your wallet—you’re smart, you’ll figure out what to do. No, this is a call to pause and remember we’re all stuck on this spinning rock together. Look past the differences. Embrace our fellow travelers. Because one day, we’ll need help too. And when that day comes, the kindness we show now will come full circle. In times of chaos, it’s clear that what truly matters isn’t our individual struggles but the collective strength of humanity. So, let’s lean into that strength, and let the fire-tested resilience of Angelenos inspire us all.

Michael D. Dean
CEO Brand 33