One Kid. Ninety Packages. Endless Heart.
Leo, an 11-year-old boy, had lived his whole life in the Palisades. So had his father, Andrew. Leo loves sports and hanging out with his friends, and he was a student at a local public school. Leo’s father grew up just like Leo, as he remarks, “I would take the number 9 Bus to the Palisades and go hang out with friends and family, and there was a baseball card store and restaurants I would go to”. Sundays were farmers’ markets and walking about town. July 4th was for parades and celebrations. Every day things. Familiar things.
And the fires.
They never lost their home, but they did lose something meaningful: their community. In an instant, everything Leo and his classmates depended on vanished. Leo said kids at school didn't care much about the fire at first. No one could have imagined how awful it was going to be. His best friend lost his house in the fire. That friend had to leave, out of state. Most of the 5th grade students wound up leaving for other schools eventually. Leo switched from five different schools in one month- including one that he attended for just a day. And then, Zoom classes again, and with them, the memories of COVID shutdowns and the feeling of being stuck and lonely all over again.
In the midst of all the loss and confusion, Leo did something different. His friend, one who had departed, was an enormous baseball enthusiast. Leo figured that it would be wonderful to send him something special, like maybe an autographed baseball. Something unique. Something to write, I miss you, or I remember. That little action sprang into something larger.
Leo and Andrew started making a list. Not his best friend, per se, but all the children who had been affected. All the children who had lost their school and were now scattered in different directions. The list grew to more than 90 names. They began collecting baseball cards and putting together care packages for each child on that list.
Then the project really took off. Andrew wrote an article on what they were doing, and donations began to flood in. Cards, materials, support. The article even reached Chase Utley's attention, and he donated & signed more than three dozen baseballs to include in the packages. It became a whole family project: Leo's sister did the logos while Leo organized the cards and constructed the sets.
That was the "greatest good" that came out of it for Andrew. Leo could have complained about what he lost- his school, his friends, his sense of normalcy. But he decided to think about what he could provide. As Leo put it, "I felt bad that everybody else lost their things… it would be a nice thing to give them some of their things that I had.
The fire took away buildings, schedules, and the daily routine that grounded children like Leo. But this project was a way of rebuilding something that may seem minute amongst all the chaos- connection. A recollection of what mattered before the fire, and what still mattered afterward. Leo and his family stand as an inspiration for what is possible even in times of darkness.
