December 16, 2003 3:05 P.M.

A Tale of Two Stars

(A True Story)

The setting sun paints the lower slopes of the San Gabriel Mountains a winter gold. Black shadows deeply etch the folds of the hills as the sun slips down and seems to hesitate in the western sky. Mt. Baldy stands as a snowy sentinel high above the small crowd gathering on the foothill to celebrate the restoration of something very precious. Precious to this valley community. They need a fresh symbol of hope. And hope is what this is all about.

It had all started many years before.

In 1958 a family built a home in the San Antonio Heights area above Upland, CA, overlooking the inland valley. With the approach of the Christmas holiday season, the homeowner began to wonder how he could best utilize the vantage point on the property above his home, to create something, which would send cheer and joy to the community below. Something, which could be seen not just by a few, but by people for miles around.

As he puzzled over this, the image of a bright star began to emerge in his thoughts. With the skill of an engineer, he drafted a somewhat crude wooden framework for his five-point star, wired it, and installed huge light bulbs side by side on the wooden frame.

When it was in place and the lights switched on, it was more than a success. It became a community landmark. As he had hoped, it could be seen for many miles. Even planes flying overhead reported seeing the star on the hillside.

Residents began to look for its illumination, not only during the Holiday Season, but upon special occasions locally and nationally. It became a beacon to the weary worker returning to his home below, on a cold winter night. It became a symbol of hope. In the days of national grieving after the 9-11 attack, the white bulbs were replaced with red, white and blue.

There have been several successive owners of the home. It is written in the deed, that the buyer of the house will continue to light the star on the hill as a community tradition.

When the present owner, Kenneth Petschow, bought the home, and with it the three story high beacon, it was important to him to keep the light shining during the holidays and when the valley needed something bright to look upon.

On Saturday, October 25 of this year, he lit the star one last time before it was consumed along with his home by the Grand Prix fire.

"It was a symbol for everybody," he said. "Anytime there's a disaster or something, I started to light it. I just thought it was appropriate to light it that one last time."

Then he, his wife and their four children gathered up as many personal effects as they could and left their house for the last time, leaving the bright symbol of hope to shine until the fires put it out forever.

The star, and the family�s home, burned to the ground in the raging firestorm, which devastated much of southern California in that weeklong holocaust.

But hope did not burn up with fire. Like the Phoenix, it arose from the ashes in the hearts of the people in this community. Immediately after the fire, donations poured in from folk, enabling the Petschows to rebuild the 65 X 65 foot star. With $20,000 in donations and help from volunteers, San Antonio Heights reclaimed its inspirational landmark.

Hundreds of letters poured in from folk who told stories of what the star had meant in their lives. Local Girl Scouts held a car wash that raised about $5,700. Some of the money raised will pay for the electricity bill and some will be set aside for the construction of a permanent star. Leftover money will go to a fund used to help local fire victims.

Workers came from all over to help resurrect the structure, just as they had after 9-11. The American Spirit will not allow defeat to reign. The star had become a spiritual symbol. And it was not simply rebuilt, but was greatly improved, in the process.

One volunteer was seen to go over to the former fire ravaged star, remove a remaining piece of the frame, and bring it over to be incorporated into the new one. From that seed, the new light grew. This year's star, which is slightly larger, is temporary. It is attached to steel scaffolding placed on the concrete pad of the owner�s former home. And it is not lit with incandescent bulbs, but with bright neon tubing forming the star.

And now the crowd gathers from miles around to view the finished product and consecrate its light. A hush falls over the hillside, tears are wiped from cheeks; some heads are bowed, others lifted to take in the full height of the new symbol of hope.

A minister from a local congregation shares the meaning of this occasion, and then begins to give thanks for the promise of restoration, which will be spread throughout the valley below, by the rays of the new star. The switch is thrown�and a quiet gasp of awe sweeps over the crowd. The speaker has a few more words to say�

�You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden.

The people walking in darkness

have seen a great light;

on those living in the land of the shadow of death

a light has dawned.

That was the true Light, which lights every man that comes into the world. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not overcome it.�

Thanks for reading!

Text � copyright 2003 - 2008 The Homespun Philosopher

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