BURNED is a collection of stories, essays, poems, and artwork exploring fire-in ways both real and imagined-and its impact on our lives.
Fire is humanity's greatest tool. Our ability to control it, shape it, wield it has made us the dominant species on the planet. Fire cooked our food, heated our homes, and kept us safe at night. But our relationship with fire is a precarious one. Like a lion tamer, we must always be prepared for our servant to, at times, become our master--and while fire is just one of many things that has the power to decimate our lives, it is perhaps one of the most prolific.
BURNED's authors are from communities across California, and some even as far as England. But the heart of this project was forged in Altadena, CA, and includes stories from several authors who lost their homes in the Eaton Fire.
The profits from this book will be donated to Side Street Projects to support creative people in the Altadena community.
BURNED is a collection of stories, essays, poems, and artwork exploring fire-in ways both real and imagined-and its impact on our lives.
Fire is humanity's greatest tool. Our ability to control it, shape it, wield it has made us the dominant species on the planet. Fire cooked our food, heated our homes, and kept us safe at night. But our relationship with fire is a precarious one. Like a lion tamer, we must always be prepared for our servant to, at times, become our master--and while fire is just one of many things that has the power to decimate our lives, it is perhaps one of the most prolific.
BURNED's authors are from communities across California, and some even as far as England. But the heart of this project was forged in Altadena, CA, and includes stories from several authors who lost their homes in the Eaton Fire.
The profits from this book will be donated to Side Street Projects to support creative people in the Altadena community.
To my child, not yet born, not yet conceived, possibly glimmering, perhaps never to exist,
I am your father. I write to you to pass along the most sacred knowledge bestowed upon me by my own and by his own before him: how to build a fire.
In the early 2000s, my father had a talking point at dinner parties that I still think about. He would say, as a course of fact, that my millennial generation is the first not able to survive based solely on the knowledge they learned from their parents. Now in the 2020s, I have my own cocktail party talking point: Mine is the last generation to know what life was like before the internet. My childhood was blissfully free of it.
I do not know your future. But if you are old enough to read this, I imagine the year is around 2050. At the time of this writing, the world is on the brink—the brink of destruction and the brink of a new technology. This new technology could save or doom us. It is intelligent. It can sense light. It can sense warmth. However, it has no living body. It does not know light or warmth like your body does. And your body is like mine.
So, it is my hope to share with you and others this knowledge, so that we may all have some light and warmth with us in the times ahead.
I will do my best to be clear and accurate and, when speaking out of turn, to at least acknowledge it. Of this craft, there are many methods. In only several of these is our lineage versed. We will, of course, start there.
Please excuse the crudeness of my drawings.
The Cold Car Fire
This is a traditional Johnson method for generating warmth when entering a frozen or otherwise frigid automobile. It is suitable preparation for a journey of any length.
1. Sit down. Feel the cold. See your breath.
2. Grin or grimace or bare your teeth.
3. Extend your arms and hands and raise aloft to shoulder height.
4. Hold a beat for dramatic effect.
5. Swiftly clap your hands evenly together, as if in prayer.
Note: The clap should produce a loud enough sound to shatter the ice on your windshield.
6. Continue holding your hands tightly together.
Note: This assumes two functioning arms, hands, etc. (God willing).
7. With speed and enthusiasm, rub your palms back and forth, generating friction, heat, and a satisfying wshkswhskhwkhsk sound. Continue until you are ready. (You will know.)
Note: The average, for me, is about thirteen hand rubs, usually starting and ending with my dominant hand on top. This will, and should, significantly vary depending on your situation, level of cold, and energy level.
8. Go on your way.
Addendums
This method was passed to me firsthand from my father, without my conscious knowledge. He did it, so I did it.
He, as I am told, learned from his father, my grandfather, your great-grandfather. Where he learned it, I do not know. He was adopted and did not have an automobile during his childhood.
This method, while born and developed in the environment of a freezing car, can and will apply to many additional situations, including but not limited to:
Getting into an automobile before a big trip.
Getting into an automobile at any time at all.
Getting excited about a big play in a sporting event.
Getting excited about exciting plans.
Getting excited about anything at all.
To be clear, the larger metaphor here is the fire within you. Sometimes it lights up and you rub your hands together. Sometimes it is cold and you need to rub your hands together to get the fire lit.
Questions
Do we still have a gas-powered automobile? (It would be good to have in case of an emergency.)
Do we still have ice?
The Fireplace Fire
The most practical and pleasant of fires occur in the home, within a fireplace. Ideally, on a dark winter night, in a great big hearth, and before the company of friends and family.
This method was taught to me by my father, learned by him from his father in the mountains of Switzerland, perfected deep in the woods of New England, and genetically ingrained in him, perhaps by our German ancestors.
With fondness, my father often references the German word gemütlichkeit. It has no English counterpart but conveys a feeling of warmth, coziness, friendship, and a sense of belonging. In that spirit, here is how to build a fire in a fireplace, as written by my father, your grandfather:
This is a tried-and-true method to build a fire in a fireplace, with a little cheat.
Make sure the flue is open.
The fireplace needs to have a metal grate or at least two andirons that will allow the first layer of logs to sit upon them.
Twist six to eight pages of newspaper into as many rough cylindrical shapes and insert them underneath the metal grate.
Add four to six sticks of fatwood (the cheat) at various angles on and under the grate to cover the area.
Place two logs on the grate, parallel to the opening of the fireplace, with a two- to three-inch separation.
Place the next two logs on top of the first two, perpendicular, if possible, or at a slight angle if the logs are too long and stick out too far.
Place two more logs on top parallel to the fireplace opening, forming a tower three logs tall.
Roll another page of newspaper and light the end. Wave it around near the flue opening to start the draw of air, and then use it to light various corners of the paper inside the fireplace.
Cozy up!
Addendums
The key to this method is the airflow provided by the tight, clean configuration of the logs. It creates a chimney effect, drawing flames up through the center of the formation. Some call this the “log cabin” method. The issue with this name is that it implies a square framing; however, the logs should be set closer together (5–10 cm) in the center of the structure. This will maintain structural integrity and maximize a tight center of airflow.
When adding a log to the fire, it is important to keep this principle in mind, along with the log supply and desired rate of burn.
Dry wood works best.
Use the longer, skinnier logs on the bottom and top, the short fat ones in the middle.
If lacking fatwood, dry kindling or small sticks also work as starter fuel.
While rolling your newspaper, start with the advertisements, junk pages, and any losing sports headlines. Review the news as you go and try to learn something.
A long, sturdy match works best, as opposed to a lighter, which will eventually run out of gas and cannot be thrown, poetically, into the fire that it created.
A good fire will keep your mother warm.
Burning wrapping paper on Christmas Day used to turn the fire green. That was the barium-based metallic paint. At some point we stopped using it because it was probably poisonous. I married your mother, and she wraps everything in old newspaper or just brown packaging paper to reduce waste. That’s what we all do now.
One day, you might build a fire with your father on Christmas Day and the wood you get will be wet. You will sit there looking at the smoking logs and wish you could build a bigger fire, because you’ve both done it before and because everyone wants a great big fire. You will look at each other and shrug because there’s nothing you can do. The wood is wet.
You may encounter people in your life trying to build a fireplace fire “tepee” style. Due to structural integrity and burn size, I do not recommend this method for larger fires.
Questions
Do we even have a fireplace?
Do we live in the country, on a homestead, as your mother and I planned?
Or have circumstances dictated otherwise?
Do we still get the newspaper? Can we still trust the newspaper?
Have I told you the story of Prometheus, who stole fire from the gods?
The Campfire
With the principles of airflow in mind, we can now discuss the “campfire” method—a terrific way to stay warm, cook, and facilitate a good howl at the moon.
Find your spot. If there is not a presanctioned area at your campsite, look for the remnants of an old one: flat ground, stones in a circle, dead grass, charred rocks or logs, etc.
Note: If possible, be downwind from your tent/sleeping area.
If needed, use large rocks to set the perimeter and contain your fire area. Use larger rocks, logs, or stumps for seating.
Gather your wood, either from your bag, car, or pack mule or, ideally, from any wooded area or forest around you. Look for dead, dry wood. Gather twigs, sticks, and logs of all sizes. Gather extra wood. Bang them on a rock to shake off any dirt.
Note: Camping in the rain is tough. Stay in your shelter.
Assemble your fire in the same “log cabin” method as the fireplace fire—perpendicular stacks with starter, kindling, and newspaper beneath.
Light it up.
Addendums
Get your hands dirty.
Once your fire is going, there are several things best done around campfires, including but not limited to: drinkin’ beer or whisky, cookin’ dinner, cookin’ s’mores, smokin’, singin’ songs, tellin’ ghost stories, discussin’ the strained relationship between man and nature and the brutality of industrial society, vomitin’ from too much whisky, countin’ the stars.
For cooking, I recommend a simple metal grate with collapsible legs that can stand over the fire. On top of that, use a big metal pot for boiling water and a cast-iron skillet for cooking everything else. One-pan meals, like pasta or rice with veggies (or meat), work best. Cans of soup or beans are classics, as are sausages.
You will smell in the morning.
Make sure the fire is out before you leave.
Questions
Do we eat any meat, as a family? Since meeting your mother, I’ve mostly stopped. Even now, some people think other animals don’t feel or think.
How expensive is the meat? Is it finally priced what it costs? Is it all gone? Grown in labs?
What is it about cooking over an open fire that feels so right?
The Campfire:
Beach Method
When you combine the primal warmth of the fire with the existential view of the ocean, it is possible to achieve total expansion.
Dig a big hole using a shovel, your hands, or a rock. This will block the wind.
See steps 2–5 above.
Addendums
If possible, boil a large pot of seawater over the fire and cook lobsters in it. Eat them with lemon and butter.
Or consider the lobster, and boil corn and potatoes instead. Eat them with lemon and butter.
Questions
How high have the oceans risen?
Do we still have fish, or have we fished them all?
Is it just the squid and jellyfish left? Have we set the oceans back five hundred million years?
The Trash Can Fire
You are throwing an outdoor party at an off-campus house because your fraternity is on probation. Or perhaps you are living in the tunnels of Las Vegas, hiding from the roving Ratmen. In any case, the trash can fire is a great solution for staying warm with a group. Here’s the method:
Secure a metal trash can or old oil drum.
Fill the bottom with rolled newspaper, cardboard, magazines, old books, or really anything somewhat flammable.
Cram in your wood. Firewood obviously works best, but so do: broken signposts, empty cardboard beer cases, pieces of old staircases that you have kicked apart.
Douse it all in lighter fluid.
Toss in a match.
Gather round!
Keep tossing stuff in as needed.
Addendum
This is obviously a more dangerous method, so make sure you are old enough to drink while attempting.
Questions
Do you know what a magazine is?
Do we all huddle under the fallout, silent in dark alleys, gathering around metal trash can fires, chewing on chicken bones, gazing through the ash and grunting up at the smoggy stars?
The Face Fire
Man is the only species that smokes. We wield the fire of the gods right before our eyes and, delicately, like a lover, before our lips. With our breath, we pull life through the flame. We take into our bodies the smolder. Man is also the only species that commits suicide.
My father’s father smoked like a chimney and then quit when he had his son. Granddad died at age seventy-four of mesothelioma. It was the asbestos, after all, that got him. From the navy boats. My father never smoked. Maybe the desire skips a generation. Consider yourself lucky then on that side of things. Still, my dad is sixty-nine and just had to irradiate his prostate cancer. My mother’s father and mother died of cancer. Your mother’s father was a good man who had a hard life. Depression can be genetic, so watch for that, too.
When it comes to smoking, don’t touch the stuff. Horrible, nasty habit. It’ll kill you. Then again, it’s a crapshoot. Life’ll kill you. It’s tough out there. Smoke ’em if you got ’em. I guess I have two minds about the situation. The method:
Gather your smoking materials. Dried tobacco leaves or marijuana buds work best.
Prepare your rolling papers on a clean surface or tray.
Sprinkle your ground leaves into the paper.
Roll a filter from a piece of cardboard or thick paper. Keep to the side.
Roll your leaves into a cylindrical tube. Add the filter and roll into place with your thumbs and index fingers.
Tuck in the edge of the paper around your materials and roll the paper up, licking to seal the tube.
Pack in the materials tightly with a stick, pencil, or toothpick, and twist the end to seal.
Light it up. (And pass to your left.)
Addendums
Cancer is overgrowth. It is your cells betraying themselves. The fruit attacking the tree. In this way, it is like suicide.
Cancer is relentless and ubiquitous. It is the seabird returning each day to devour our organs.
We have a genetic history of: colon cancer, breast cancer, prostate cancer, lung cancer.
If you hear anyone say that mankind is a cancer, remind them that not every culture wants to grow forever.
If you hear anyone say we shouldn’t have (advanced) technology, tell that to your grandfather.
If you poison yourself, you poison everyone.
Questions
Have they cured it? How much does it cost? Why should it cost anything?
Surely I’ve quit by now, right?
Why do we do it?
Can we really not help ourselves?
Is it because we know we are going to die? That’s the heavy package we carry around.
Or is it the illusion of control?
And now we venture into the territory of observational, rather than firsthand, knowledge. The following methods are all doable by me or you.
The Bonfire
For grand ritual, there is the bonfire. This pagan blaze is terrific for celebrating en masse the accomplishments of (wo)man and the wonders of nature.
I have, myself, built only small bonfires about one meter tall. A proper bonfire will tower above three meters in structure, with the fire itself reaching heights of five-plus meters. The flames should lick the sky and so burn the barrier between Earth and Heaven. This way the gods can view the celebration.
The bonfire method is much like the campfire method, but everything is bigger. Again, I recommend an airflow-based, perpendicular log structure.
Safety first! Have water/fire extinguishers on hand, etc.
Teamwork second. This is not a one-(wo)man job.
Find your place. A beach or large open dirt field works best, away from any structures, trees, dried brush, etc. Use rocks to set a perimeter ten meters in diameter.
If needed, secure proper permitting, permissions—or not!
Set your base logs in a square, about two to three meters per side.
Fill the square with an arrangement of starter fires, of kindling and small logs.
Continue building the structure up and around your base fires in a crisscross pattern. Place your wood pieces close together for maximum airflow. You’ll need lots of wood!
Note: If the structure is getting to be above shoulder height, mind the integrity to avoid collapse. Use ladders to finish, and be careful getting close to the structure.
Make sure some of the starter fires at the base are accessible.
Weather permitting, leave the bonfire structure to sit out for a few days, so people can admire it. This will build anticipation for the big celebration.
Note: Option to build effigy, wooden sculpture.
Note: Sacrifices are not allowed.
Light the starter fires at the base.
Stand back and watch it burn.
Dance around like the monkey you are.
Addendum
Only celebrate that which is worth celebrating. Examples: weddings, births, funerals, graduations, solstices, equinoxes, full moons.
Questions
Are we still dancing?
Are the gods still watching?
The Street Fire
Will the people ever wake up? We are killing the planet! People, wake up!
Here is one way to do it:
Secure a bottle of vodka, gin, whisky, or other eighty-plus-proof liquor.
Drink half.
Insert a cloth or rag into the bottle. Soak it in the alcohol.
Pull out half of the cloth as your wick.
Light and toss.
Burn, baby, burn.
Addendum
Hopefully it won’t come to this . . . again.
Questions
Has it come to this?
. . . Again?
The Wildfire
Walk through the wild with reckless abandon.
Or . . .
Make a mistake.
Addendums
You must never do number 1.
Number 2 will certainly happen, with untold consequences. Hope that the damage is minimal, and then never make that mistake again.
Question
How many more?
The Survival Fire
The final methodology, the “survival fire,” I am writing out of turn. As of May 2025, I have never needed to make a fire to stay alive. Really, it’s all been so easy for me, survival-wise. That was supposed to be the promise of technology. That it would make life for every generation easier and better. It did for me, in some ways. As of now, the jury is still out. For you, things may be very bad indeed. You may need to know this method.
You are in the wild. You have nothing with you but your mind. These two statements will always be true.
If you should also be in the wilderness in need of a fire, with no matches or lighter, there are some methods I have researched and deemed worth sharing.
First, I recommend the videos of Woodsbound Outdoors on YouTube if YouTube still exists and videos are still a medium. The host is an earnest and no-nonsense survivalist with handy, practical tips for survival fire making. Additionally, he has great videos about trapping food, fishing, and general survival skills. (I like to think I could trap and kill a bird and defeather it and start a fire and cook the bird over the fire, if I watch enough YouTube videos.)
Or I could just ask an artificial intelligence called ChatGPT with access to all of the internet’s knowledge (my notes in parentheses):
Making a fire without matches or a lighter is totally doable—it just takes some resourcefulness and patience. Here are a few traditional methods you can try, depending on what materials you have access to:
Basic Ingredients You’ll Need (I wouldn’t call these materials “ingredients.”)
Tinder—Dry, easily flammable material like dry grass, leaves, bark shavings, cotton, dryer lint.
Kindling—Small sticks and twigs to catch the flame from the tinder.
Fuel wood—Larger logs to keep the fire going.
Methods to Start a Fire without Matches
1. Friction—Bow Drill or Hand Drill
What you need
A fireboard (soft wood like cedar or willow)
A spindle (straight, dry stick)
A bow (curved stick with a string)
A socket (stone or hard wood to hold the spindle)
How it works
Use the bow to spin the spindle on the fireboard.
Friction creates heat, forming a small ember in the notch of the fireboard.
Drop the ember into your tinder and blow gently.
Takes practice and the right dry materials.
(The movie Cast Away features a great example of this method.)
2. Flint and Steel
What you need
Flint (or any hard rock)
Carbon steel striker (a knife spine can work)
Char cloth or dry tinder
How it works
Strike the steel against the flint to produce sparks.
Catch a spark on char cloth or tinder.
Blow it into a flame once it starts smoldering.
(I will get us more matches and a flint and steel for our go bags.)
3. Magnifying Glass/Lens (Solar Ignition)
What you need
Magnifying glass, glasses lens, or even a clear plastic bottle filled with water
Bright sunlight
Dry tinder
How it works
Focus the sunlight into a sharp beam on your tinder.
Hold steady until it starts smoking and catches flame.
Needs direct sun and patience.
(This seems like a rather cartoonish method to me.)
4. Battery and Steel Wool
What you need
Nine-volt battery (or AA/AAA)
Fine steel wool
How it works
Touch the battery terminals to the steel wool. It will spark and catch fire.
Place steel wool on dry tinder and gently blow.
Super effective but only works if you have the materials.
(I will have to try this.)
Addendums
In survival situations, you must stay busy and vigilant. The moment you become complacent, that’s it.
I hope to God there are still enough trees. Otherwise, that’s it.
(As of now, consciousness is still a mystery. The Hard Problem. I do not think AI will ever achieve it. That is a topic of a separate essay, but, in short, I do not worry about it. Consciousness does not come from our mind. It is simply the sustaining force of the universe that living sensory minds can access in various ways.)
I worry about how people will use AI. The wrong person writes the wrong code—that’s it.
Questions
Can I start a fire like this?
What kind of man am I if I cannot?
Is AI not the ultimate fire? The fruit from the tree. The total knowledge of the gods?
Are we all not the sons of Prometheus? With plastic in our brains and pancreas? Barely surviving, chained to the stone sculpted by Titans, meekly holding our little blue flames aloft?
This summarizes my fire-related knowledge. Use it or lose it. Imagine what else I know. Imagine what you will know that I will never understand. We’ll do our best. But remember, we are only human. We are not supposed to know everything (except for your mother).
I would like to say that technology fuels progress, but that is not true. Culture decides where we go. Or, perhaps, culture is the original technology. At the time of this writing, we need an upgrade. So, this is my last question. I hope we have answered it by the time you are reading this.
Where do we want to go?
If you ask me, I’m fine right here by the fire.
With love,
Your father
Burned, curated by Nicholas Davidge and Alana White, explores the complex relationship between humans and fire through a blend of fiction, non-fiction, and personal reflections. Inspired by the devastating fires in Altadena and Pacific Palisades in 2025, the collection delves into fire’s dual nature as both creator and destroyer. Contributors from diverse backgrounds and professions share stories of loss, resilience, and renewal, highlighting fire’s role in shaping communities, memories, and even ecosystems.
This is a rich, multifaceted anthology exploring fire as both literal phenomenon and metaphorical lens for human experience. The volume weaves together memoir, fiction, and reflection to examine how fire shapes our lives—destructively and generatively, intentionally and spontaneously. The anthology spans a wide range of
perspectives—from survival and trauma to cultural rituals and ecological cycles—revealing how fire is woven into our myths, daily lives, and collective psyche.
The collection presents fire across multiple registers: Tucker Johnson's practical manual approach acknowledges technology's limits while centering humanity's relationship with fire. The essays collectively explore what fire teaches us beyond survival—about purpose, renewal, and loss. Simon Hedges's "Burned" demonstrates this duality, showing both destruction and regeneration, as he writes about "blood lilies that sprout green amid the ash."
Burned is a funeral pyre, a meditation on vulnerability, adaptation, and the enduring human spirit in the face of elemental forces. Several pieces anchor the collection in intimate tragedy. Brianne Klug's account of childhood house fire contrasts with Andrea Levin's bonding moments with her daughter doing volunteer work in Vanuatu. Each shows how fire catalyzes personal transformation and sometimes regret, as with John W Smart's "Two Harbors," reflecting on lost repair opportunities.
Some, like Davidge’s "Trial by Fire" (the Frankenstein monster musical) and Learden Matthies’ "What Remains" use fire to explore deeper philosophical territory—absurdity, mortality, creation and destruction, and what we lose through rigid belief systems. Works within Burned suggest that fire, whether literal or symbolic, touches something fundamental in human experience.
I struggled to write a critique of the anthology’s lack of organization. Putting on my editor’s hat, I had thought the volume would benefit from clear thematics, for example, by intensity, such as chapters on “Kindling” or “Inferno.” However, I acknowledge that the unpredictability of fire is part of its allure. Perhaps the power of Burned lies in this tension: method within madness, order within chaos, much like fire itself.