L.A. Fires

What's ready supposed to look like?

It’s hard to describe this week. Tuesday afternoon, I drove home from school in Inglewood and saw the Palisades Fire in the distance, the orange flames and the thick, thick plume of smoke hovering above. Wildfire. Right there. Through my windshield while I was blasting Madonna. An hour away but very visible. I went grocery shopping, came home, puttered around the apartment, planning the usual midweek things and geared up for a 5:30 AM alarm to start the next work day. The winds were loud Tuesday night. Around 7:30 PM, the lights flickered on and off and then the power was gone. Sudden pitch blackness followed by a silence that went all night and into the morning. I laid there in bed, a few candles glowing, listening to the wind. I struggled to sleep.

Cancellations began the next morning. Schools closed, and I was home Wednesday thinking I would be back at school by Thursday. I’ve never packed an emergency “to go” bag and didn’t have any intention of leaving. The alerts about the Palisades Fire continued, more news about the Eaton Fire, and then parts of northern Santa Monica were under evacuation watch by Wednesday afternoon. My neighbor downstairs, a former military man, texted me about conditions and said that he had a bag packed and “was ready.”

What’s ready supposed to look like? I had no idea, and still don’t.

Wednesday afternoon, I walked outside to the upper level of my apartment complex parking garage. The air was warm and weird. It smelled weird. It tasted weird. I’ll never forget that strange, foul smell and taste. Inside, my apartment smelled mildly smoky. I always have my balcony screen door open for fresh air and now the place smelled like an ashtray. I checked the alerts, the fire map. I stood in my apartment and looked around unsure of what to do. I don’t know wildfire other than it is unpredictable. I do know that Santa Ana winds are formidable. Listening to them in total darkness was spooky AF. I didn’t want another night of sitting in the dark without power, the smoke moving my way. I grabbed the cat, pet food, my laptop, packed a bag of groceries and threw an oddball mix of items into a small suitcase: the basics like sweatpants, socks and underwear as well as a small painting by my daughter and one of her ceramic pieces. I wasn’t under evacuation orders and didn’t think my neighborhood would burn but my biggest concern was the electricity going on and off with the high winds and the smoke. I also didn’t want to get alerts to suddenly leave in the middle of the night.

I drove east, past downtown L.A. which was buried in smoke. On the way out, a man stood in the middle of the street selling a bucket of bright flowers. Mango and coconut vendors were on the corner. Amazon drivers were making deliveries. Homeless people pushed grocery carts down the sidewalk. People stood at bus stops, masked up and waiting, talking on their phones. Not everyone has the privilege to leave. Many people were going about their work day, landscapers, construction workers, and cleaning crews out and about. I’m still wrapping my head around this, the mundane side-by-side with the catastrophic.

I drove to Joshua Tree to spend two nights with close friends who are like family. When shit gets scary, we need our people. They made me tacos, we drank wine, and doom scrolled, watching the news, everything orange and gray on screen, everything terrifying. People texted asking if I was okay. It was and is surreal.

I’m driving back to L.A. now. The Palisades Fire is 8% contained. Since it started Tuesday morning, 20,000 acres have burned, the Pacific Palisades community completely gone. The Eaton Fire near Altadena, which began Tuesday evening, is 3% contained as of this morning, and has burned 14,000 acres. Today, I will go grocery shopping and stock up. I am beyond fortunate. What I saw driving home Tuesday afternoon was unnerving. What I’m driving back to today is horrific.

The way L.A. is stepping up makes me love this city even more. A favorite restaurant of mine on Lincoln Boulevard announced closure to the public because it is serving meals to first responders, and more than 40 other local restaurants are doing the same. If interested, please consider donating to the Los Angeles Fire Department Foundation, as I did, to help support crews out on the frontlines. There are also various roundups of organizations accepting donations to support those affected by the L.A. fires. The Santa Monica-based, NPR member station KCRW has numerous listings of resources, including food, and KCRW is also donor supported (I’ve been a monthly member since moving here in 2018; feel free to become a member.) There’s also the American Red Cross, the California Fire Foundation, the Los Angeles Food Bank, World Central Kitchen, the National Day Laborer Organizing Network, which helps immigrant day laborers and undocumented workers, who day and night keep Los Angeles going. The Pasadena Humane Society seeks support during its outreach to rescue animals affected by wildfire. And, of course, please consider supporting the Los Angeles Mission, where I got my start teaching creative writing six years ago, an organization that steps up in any crisis and never gives up on L.A.

Finally, The Los Angeles County Library is open to people without power, who need WiFi, who need to recharge the literal and metaphorical batteries. Libraries are our most democratic institutions left; truly anyone can use a library for free. If you follow me on Instagram, the only social media I use, my “note” is always the same: Read books. Support libraries. That Ben Franklin was onto something, establishing the Library Company of Philadelphia in 1731. Libraries open their doors to everyone and anyone, and their community presence is mission critical in this era of capitalist greed where oligarchs run the show. Support and protect libraries wherever and whenever possible. I can’t emphasize this enough. It’s not just about checking out a free book for two weeks; libraries are beacons of community and democracy, two very fragile things under recurrent threats.

When I first moved to L.A. from the northeast, people asked things like “What about the wildfires?” which is subtext for “Why would you live somewhere that could suddenly burn to the ground?” I understand the question. I miss rain, the sound of rain, the smell of rain, how rain turns everything green. How can we explain true love? We can’t. All I know is that I fell in love with L.A. years ago. L.A. is home.

Thank you for reading L.A. Woman, thanks to those who reached out, and if you’re able to support any of the above organizations and help L.A. through this disaster, thank you, thank you, thank you.❤️