I went to a glam gala in LA and cried all night — here’s why

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I entered the Make-A-Wish Foundation’s Greater LA gala expecting the usual: schmoozing, some hors d’oeuvres and a glass of sparkling wine. 

Instead, I left with mascara running down my face, and a number burned into my brain — $10,000. That’s what it costs to grant a single “wish” to a terminally ill child. 

About 500 wishes a year are granted via the LA metro area alone. 

For those counting at home, that’s a lot of clams. Five million of them, to be precise. 

The foundation owes its origins to the story of Chris Greicius, a 7-year-old in Phoenix battling leukemia who wanted to be a police officer. The local department answered the call, and soon chapters of the new foundation, inspired by the story, were founded all over the country, and later the world. 

Of course, the LA chapter channels the city’s glitz and glamour, hosting its gala among the dazzling towers of Century City.

The first wish-granter I encountered was Bill Fishel, a former board chair of the organization. He came with his beautiful wife, a philanthropist, and three young sons, each decked out in tuxedos. 

I asked him which child’s story stayed with him the longest. The answer signaled the heartstrings that’d be pulling all night.

“The ones we didn’t grant,” Fishel said, “that we couldn’t get to in time. It breaks your heart.”

He was referring to ‘rush wishes,’ the calls that come in when a child’s time is running out, and the organization has to move fast. 

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“Will I be crying all night?” I wondered aloud.

“All of us,” Fishel answered. “Me too.” 

The way it works: Volunteers sit down with the children and their parents and ask them about their dreams. After filling out a request form, the volunteers then have to find the funding to make the wish come true.

And what these kids ask will take your breath away.

Some may ask for trips to Disneyland and Hawaii, sure, but others’ desires are more selfless. One girl wished to fund a program at her school to help other kids have their wishes granted.

“A kid fighting for her own life, using her one wish to lift somebody else’s,” Fishel concluded.

Sometimes the kids wish for things that are cute and funny. 

Honoree Dana Guerin, founder of Guerin Children’s pediatric unit at Cedars-Sinai, said her favorite was a boy who wanted to go to an aquarium and smell a sea lion’s breath, because it was the worst smell imaginable. Another: a kid who wanted to run a pickle factory. 

Just kids being kids. 

Heartbreaking.

At the event, I also met Kyla, a wish kid who is now doing wonderfully. 

Her wish was Disney World, and she told me all about it with a light in her eyes I wish I could bottle. Her favorite part was her FastPass. “I got to skip all the lines!”  

At the other end of the spectrum was Kira, a 17-year-old living with a malignant brain tumor, who spoke onstage with her mother. She wished to reunite with her grandparents in war-ravaged Ukraine. Over the summer, her wish was granted. 

These are not sad stories. These are the happiest stories in LA, and they’re happening because strangers kept showing up, dollar by dollar. 

It struck me how many people there had lived the cause before they ever wrote a check for it. This isn’t a charity that happens to you. It’s a community you are a part of.

Figure skating legend Tara Lipinski has been carrying the cause since she was a teenager. Back then, she skated with a touring show that partnered with Make-A-Wish, and the wish kids would watch her skate.

“These small moments of joy make such a huge impact,” she said. “It puts everything into perspective.” 

She’s right, and I’d add, from a healer’s chair — joy isn’t a luxury for a sick child. It’s medicine — the part of treatment that doesn’t come with a co-pay.

Still, I know $10,000 sounds like a lot.

But it isn’t your job to cover an entire wish alone. “Every bit matters,” Bill Fishel told me, and he meant it. 

All told, they raised $2 million dollars at the gala. 

Somewhere out there is a kid about to skip every line at Disney World, or smell a sea lion’s breath, because strangers like us decided their joy was worth ten thousand dollars. 

So yes, dear reader — I went to a gala and cried all night. 

And I’d do it again.

Liz Angeles is a massage therapist who runs the top-rated Just What You Knead in Santa Monica.