The disaster of Los Angeles

[MorrellMan]

As a longtime lurker and rare poster, and understanding that the last thread in this regard devolved; thus being shut down with an invitation to start a new one, I thought I would be a good one to start it.

I don't know many of the personalities on this end of the board, nor do I have any history here. For those of you who don't know me from other boards, I'm a lifetime resident of Los Angeles, raised in the Valley in the '50s and I now reside in the Hollywood Hills.

Folks - people are dying (36 so far) and I don't think anybody, not a single person, in this county isn't a single-degree separated from decimating tragedy. It ain't over yet as high winds are due to hit us later today with the Palisades fire still raging. My bags are still packed. My cousin lost his house in the Palisades and sent an email to friends and family this morning to let us all hear his truth. Here it is:

The Palisades fire started and Linda’s and my life has now been forever changed. We lived in our house for just short of 50 years and have so many irreplaceable memories that anyone would have living in a place so long. We were lucky to have evacuated with our lives in tact, and a few possessions, including my favorite cameras and lenses and, most of all, my backup hard drive. Well we got our passports and some cash too. It took me 4 hours to drive from my house in Pacific Palisades to Tarzana, a distance 22 miles, which included a 2 ¼ stint to go .4 of a mile down a gridlocked and shaken Sunset Blvd.

We initially went to a friends house in Tarzana for two nights until we all thought that we may have to evacuate. So we spent a night in a hotel and went to another friend’s house near the Getty when the same emergency sounds came blasting into our phones. After a nice dinner together with our friend, we decided to call it a night and made a reservation at the Marriott at the foot of the 405 in the valley. As we approached the check in counter, we were told that the hotel may have to evacuate and they stopped taking any more reservations for the night. We then decided, with the help of a wonderful employee, to go to the Residence Inn at LA Live, thinking (so far, so good) that it would be off limits to any evacuation notices.

That was the first three days. Linda and I were so thankful that we had each other, but in a hazy fog about what was happening to our lives. Emotions hit every range imaginable and crying spells continued to be part of our daily being. We kept thinking of everything we had lost, souvenirs from here and there, Linda’s paintings, clothing we loved, our wedding albums, and the list went on and on. I have never experienced such an emotional roller coaster, and I would never know what would trigger these feelings. They just come and go. They just happen.

We started shopping for toiletries and clothes and pretended to be teenagers in love and starting to play house together. Never mind that we are in our 80s. Getting medication was another challenge but we tenaciously went with it and prevailed. We had a wonderful discussion with Brady, the day manager of the Yard House restaurant at LA Live about the important things in life. He was so cool that he comped our lunch for us, We had dinner with a good friend in Sherman Oaks and the tears flowed as we knew we would never again have such a kitchen to cook in.

We have thought throughout of how our life has ended in the Palisades. Never again would we walk into Knolls Pharmacy and laugh with Gordon and Shirley. We would not eat the delicious rolls at Vittorio’s and banter with the owner nor would anybody else as Vittorio’s is now ash. I would never again be able to speak Spanish to Oscar, the butcher at Gelsons, which now is a mere shell of its old self. Nor Jose in the produce section, who taught me some good (and bad) words through the years, as Gelsons now has only part of its facade in front of an empty shell of its former self. Nor get Toppings yogurt which became a family ritual when my nephew and niece and their two daughters visited us from Washington DC. Nor walk through our neighborhood where we would talk with friends and strangers alike, enjoying the outdoors. As our neighborhood has now been reduced to rubble, ash, dead foliage and unimaginable hazardous materials sunk into the earth. Nor wake up to magnificent sunrises and turn in for the night with spectacular sunsets as my neighborhood is now a vast dusty wasteland unrecognizable to anyone who knew it before. And many other little trinkets of things that were part of my daily life and routine, which I loved and took for granted are now forever gone.

We continue to live in DTLA as we assess our future. We are slowly rebuilding our wardrobe, as it is nice to be able to have more than only the clothes on your back that you left your home with. We have run into amazing people this past week, including those employees who gave fire victims 50% off at the Gap. The Apple employee who tearfully allowed us to charge Linda’s phone while we shopped at the Glendale Galleria. The staff at the hotel where we are living for the time being. And two couples in the lobby, refugees of the Eaton fire, one of whom will be on CNN today, and all of whom invited us to a survivors happy hour tonight at 5:30 in the lobby.

Each day gets a little better but I am not sure we quite can grasp the enormity of all of this yet. We know our community has been viciously and senselessly destroyed and that all of us will never again experience life as most of us have known it for decades. We know that possessions are just that, some of which can probably be replaced. We know that memories in our home, our castle, our safe space, will never die. And that thinking of the irreplaceable things from time to time will forever cause emotional pain which will become the new normal. But having our village, our safety net of amazing human beings, our extended families and even strangers have shown us that there is still a lot to be thankful for and that humanity can shine a bright light in times of great stress. We have been offered clothes, shoes, towels, furniture, kitchen goods and almost everything else imaginable from old friends and friends of theirs whom we have never met. We have been delightfully overwhelmed and beautifully touched by the text messages, phone calls and emails from family and friends this past week, some of whom we haven’t talked to or seen in years. The emotions will still flow and we will continue to be overwhelmed for a while, but we are trying our best to remain steady and focused day to day and ultimately the future. We remain cautiously optimistic that things will get better from this unimaginable low point in our lives, this depressing surreal nightmare, this life altering calamity, and that we will start our new journey, creating new memories and celebrating life with our friends and family. There is so much more to say and share, but this is my first impression after one week later.