The Friedmans had to evacuate three times after they moved in with their three children, but fire never touched the place until Sunday.

(They live in a known fire area. They have been evacuated three times. And yet, somwehow, they were caught by surprise. How? Why would such wealthy family not take every precaution? Fire proof safe? Fire boxes? Fire retardant roof shingles? Because they have other priorities.)

The two were in New York, on the way home from a vacation on the Caribbean island of St. Maarten, when their housekeeper phoned them. She said, "We're evacuating. We can't save a thing."

(Prirorities number one and two: vacations in St Maarten and a housekeeper. And this housekeeper...I feel there is more than meets the eye here. This familiy seems pretentious and annoying. I have a vision of Concepcion after she gets the order to evacuate: Oh Dios Mios. It is a shame that all those years of scrubbing Mrs Friedman's floor have left me with a bad back. Her antique salt spoons are sooooo heavy. Now they will burn and melt. And her jewelry! If only I could find a way to save it. I know! I will take it to my cousin Enrique for safekeeping. I only hope I do not forget to tell Mrs Friedman I have done this, otherwise she may think her jewlery has burned and melted.)

Delayed for hours in reaching Los Angeles because the fires disrupted commercial aviation, ( Standby? Coach? Does this Eternal Super Elite Platinum Frequent Flyer card mean anything to you? What was your name? I'll have your job for this. I'll shut this lousy airline down.) the Friedmans stayed Sunday night at the house of friends. (Thank goodness Sylvia and Marty Epstein had never been able to afford to move!) They picked through what was left of their showplace on Monday.

The swimming pool and a cabana survived. The rest was devastation. (Thank goodness the pool survived! A miracle! And a cabana, because of course without a cabana the pool would be worthless. And did you motice:they said A cabana. One of several.) Wielding shovels with the housekeeper and three helpers, they found pieces of antique Wedgwood china, a 19th-century Thai elephant tusk, a potbellied stove, brass fireplace andirons, a marble torso statue and very little else.

(Oh Mrs Friedman, I am soooo sorry that all of your jewelry has burned and melted. And that your furs have burned and melted. And all of your beautiful gowns have burned and melted. But all is not lost. Here. I have found an elephant tusk.)

"The maid took the cat out and she got our three cars out, but her car is sitting over there, burned out," Friedman said. The left taillight of the couple's Subaru Forester station wagon was melted.

(Oh, Mrs Friedman, my car, my car! What will I will I do without my car? Your insurance will pay? Oh Mrs Friedman, that is so kind of you. Again, I am sooo sorry that everything is burned and melted. I saved what I could. And think how lucky you are, you still have so much. A cat. A pool. A cabana. Three cars. An elephant tusk. Now I must go. I am staying with my cousin Enrique because your house is burned and melted. Oh, I will walk. No, it is not far. Torrance. What? Borrow the Subaru? Oh, Mrs Friedman, that is very generous, but I cannot. No, thank you, no, no, I cannot. The left taillight is melted. It is not safe.... The Mercedes? Oh Mrs Friedman, thank you. I must go to the wedding of my cousin Carmelita tonight and the Merecedes will look wonderful with the gown, fur and jewelry I have chosen to wear. I will be back in a couple of days. Tell the insurance man I want a red car. Oh, I almost forgot. Here is the handle of a Wedgewood teacup I found. So lucky. Good night Mrs Friedman.)