Normally right before the new year, especially on New Years Eve, I look forward to a fresh new year and have a positive feeling. This was the first year in awhile, that I came into the new year cautious with a feeling of anxiety and unease.
Regardless of how I feel, I still try to start each year and even with each day, with the sense that I will control what I can, do the best that I can, and have gratitude.
Well, the first week of the year has not gone “well”. I’ve had multiple surprise expenses, some technical issues, not sleeping well, found out a lady who I worked for years ago and I always considered a friend had passed away last year, and watched areas where I worked and lived and had a lot of nice memories burn to the ground in all the Los Angeles fires.
Growing up in Southern California, wild fire was just something that was always a threat. I remember my parents talking about evacuating during a big San Diego fire I think in the late 60s. When I was a kid, there were several times where fire got close enough to see flames on nearby hills, but because of air support, the fires were able to be contained.
In 2003, I was living in L.A. when a fire, which started more than 20 miles away from my parent’s house in San Diego county managed to cover those 20 miles in half a day. Fire crews were already strained trying to fight fires in other areas, so by the time it was literally on top of my parent’s neighborhood, they only knew because other neighbors were going down the road with a megaphone telling people to “Get out now the fire is here!”.
My mom was frantically trying to round up their cat and then load things like photo albums keepsakes into their trailer, which my dad had already hooked the truck up to. He was getting together with a few of the neighbors and formulating a plan. My parent’s house as well as the neighbor’s houses had a bit of “defensible” space (meaning no brush or debris that could easily catch fire) and he those other 2 guys decided to stay and try to save their houses. My dad had literally just paid the last payment on their mortgage 3 weeks prior to this.
My mom reluctantly left my dad behind and took the truck and trailer and went up the road into town and waited. About a few hours later, my dad called my mom to come back. They had no power, but the water held out and my dad and the neighbor’s used garden hoses to knock down any embers that were falling on close trees and the roof. My parents stayed up all night looking for embers and spot fires and then dousing them. I think they also benefited from a couple lucky turns the fire took. Flames could have easily raged down the hill, but the hill had been cleaned of brush, so it sought fuel elsewhere.
Nevertheless, the aftermath was like a war zone with many houses burnt to the ground. During the conflagration, my dad said they kept hearing loud bangs as propane tanks exploded. The heat of the flames and the thick smoke were intense as were the gusts of wind. Intense fire like that creates its own forces. My parents were out of power for a couple weeks as crews worked to restore burned poles and lines, but they had a generator. Neighbors banded together to help one another out.
In 2018, Mario’s dad was still living in Magalia, California, which is right next to Paradise. He lost his home in the Camp fire that basically decimated Paradise and half of Magalia. It was another situation where no one knew what was happening until the fire was literally on top of them. Many people sadly lost their lives. Mario’s dad barely got out.
I remember the last time Mario had visited his dad down there, when he came home something was definitely bothering him. I asked him what was up and he explained that he and his dad were sitting out on his back patio, under the large pine trees, drinking beer and just chatting about life and he had the most uneasy feeling. He said he turned to his dad and said, you know one day this is all going to go up in flame, right? His dad kind of brushed it off. Months later, his and many other homes in the area were reduced to ash.
To this day, his dad views this as one of the best things that ever happened to him. He was able to be compensated by insurance and a successful class action against the power company, but more importantly, he was able to move nearby us and spend a lot of time with Mario in his last years.
Here in Oregon, we’re still in a wild fire area. A friend lost her home in 2020 to a fire here. We’re frequently inundated with smoke from fires, even ones far away. This was a photo I took back in 2020 where for about a week, it truly looked apocalyptic.
When I returned home from errands on Tuesday of this week, I happened to look at social media and noticed people talking about a fire in the Pacific Palisades area of Los Angeles. I quickly got sucked into the unfolding news and footage. Memories of the many years I spent in L.A. came flooding back into my brain, and most of them included Mario. Besides working at a record store, I also worked at the Kinko’s Copy Center in the Pacific Palisades. I lived down the road a bit, back in Brentwood at an apartment complex right off of Sunset Boulevard. A friend had a nanny gig working for a family in the Palisades and one weekend when the whole family was away, she’d asked if she could stay at the home with a few friends and they agreed. Mario and I went. The home was a beautiful older home with a view of the ocean. At one point we all decided to walk down to the beach. I still remember that night, sitting on the beach with Mario, looking out into the blackness of the night over the pacific ocean, as the waves rolled in. It was, as the kids say, a “whole vibe”. We were living in the moment, unfettered with any idea of what was to come many years later. That house is almost certainly burned to the ground from the pictures I’ve seen.
Being empathetic makes any kind of human (or animal) suffering very difficult for me, especially in disasters, but when you also know these places, it hits even harder. My thoughts are definitely with all of those affected by these latest fires. It is going to be a long, long road to recovery.
