Are we there yet?
I don’t know about you, but January in Southern California has felt like being on a road trip with screaming children on a steep, winding mountain road with no pit stops in sight. If you’ve been following the news, you know that we have had major fires that have flattened entire communities…and made all of us here in LaLaLand on the edge of our seats. Unusually dry temperatures mixed with abnormally strong Santa Ana Winds, fueled by a lack of funding for our fire department created the perfect fire storm. Mix into that combustibile a few sick arsonists and you have absolute destruction. Everyone here knows someone who has either lost their home/business or both and/or has been evacuated. For nearly two weeks we were glued to our Watch Duty App which details fires and evacuation notices. A glitch in the system had all of us on evacuation alert at one point.
Today, however, it is raining. The first rain we’ve had in ages. What a difference a day makes! Hopefully there are no mudslides, which are the murky fallout to fire damaged hillsides mixed with water.
Meanwhile, the other day I was cleaning my sink. It doesn’t get any more exciting than that, I know…but as I was rubbing the sponge loaded with Soft Scrub across my beat-up, over 30-year old sink with its scuff marks and worn ceramic edges, I thought to myself, “I’m lucky to have a sink to scrub.” I can’t imagine what it must feel like to see your entire home engulfed in flames. The memories, the momentos, the beds, the books, the kitchen sinks turned to ashes. Literally the roof over your head completely gone. Some people reeling from the loss — young and old — have now sworn to a life of simplicity and as few possessions as possible. It has made me rethink so many things I own. What is truly necessary and what is just taking up extraneous space?
Amidst the ruins, there is definitely something to be said for simplifying life. I remember reading Thoreau’s classic in Mrs. Young’s high school English class:
It really left a mark on me at the time. Me, as an insecure 17-year old busy accumulating as much stuff as humanely possible to feel like I mattered and belonged in society. I’ll never forget this epic quote:
But here we are on a rare rainy Southern California day. Life goes on. Our priorities have definitely had to take a philosophical deep dive. I am grateful first and foremost for my family and pets that are all safe and sound. (My son was working in Pacific Palisades the morning that fire started!) Next, for my tiny home that needs repairs here and there. Also grateful for my community, Santa Clarita, which is a suburb north of Los Angeles where I’ve lived, worshipped, worked and raised my family for 18 years. Santa Clarita Valley, or SCV as we call it for short, is surrounded by mountains and high desert. We’re as dry as a bone and the Santa Ana winds love to whip us around over here, too.
I grew up in West Los Angeles, right next to the Pacific Palidades. My family used to take car rides along the tree-lined, iconic Sunset Boulevard to sunny Malibu all the time while I was growing up. The whole family, including my two older brothers and I, were beach babies back then, collecting seashells, fighting off jellyfish stings and suffering sunburn in all its Coppertone glory. Of course, my brothers teased me incessantly the whole time.
This is an unapologetically unflattering picture of me with my brother, Bob, c. 1966 enjoying the Malibu coastline. (This is not the Bay Watch imagery most people associate with these sultry, summery sands.) Still, despite my plumpness, this picture brings back many beautiful memories growing up in Southern California. Once I rode my bike with my other brother, Richard, all the way from our apartment in Brentwood to the beach and back. I couldn’t move the next day.
As the late David Lynch, RIP, once said, “I like L.A. because of the light. The light makes me feel so good. It’s really beautiful. And there’s something about L.A. being so spread out that gives you a feeling of freedom. Light and freedom.” Indeed, there is something about the light in Los Angeles that gets under your skin and is integral to the experience of living here.
Ironically, in November, before these fires, and before reading Lynch’s quote, I wrote a little poem about what L.A. felt like to me: the incandescent light filtering through the windows, the Santa Ana winds, and the weird post earthquake silence. I entered the poem in a local city contest and I am happy to say I am a finalist…my poem, along with those of nine others, will be placed on the sidewalk somewhere in our town. Anyone who is so inclined to step on my poem is cordially invited to do so.
The guidelines for entry were very strict, as it will be occupying an obviously very small space. Here it is:
L.A. boomer, 1960. Palm trees,
freeways. Sunshine through open
windows and Santa Ana winds.
Earthquakes rattle me, too;
the eerie calm still haunting.
Like any major city, the City of the Angels has big issues and quirks that can drive a person crazy. Just watch reruns of the cop show, Southland to get a feel for our crime underbelly. The freeways during rush hour are maddening. We’ve certainly had our share of serial killers, too. L.A. is spread out and getting around gets increasingly challenging. My family was an anomaly as we had only one car, which my dad needed for work; so my mom and I used to take the buses everywhere along the major streets and boulevards including Wilshire, Santa Monica, Westwood and Sunset. I knew those West L.A. streets and bus stops like the back of my hand. I knew the glamorous streets of Beverly Hills (where my mom worked) and the upbeat hub of Westwood where UCLA students and my friends used to hang out and cause a little mischief. I knew Santa Monica when it was a sleepy, divey town and not the gentrified hot spot it has become for milennials.
It’s going to be a long process to rebuild. My heart goes out to the displaced families who are getting their feet back on the ground. One day at a time. There are many organizations that are helping families and displaced animals. Here are two of them:
As I mentioned earlier, today is a rainy day. I’m still in my pj’s, which is very rare for me this late in the day! I’ve got laundry to do and dishes to wash. I haven’t even cleaned the kitty litter boxes yet! I’m grateful, however, for all the chores I have to attend to in my small, intact corner of the world. I love my family, my home, my cats, my friends, my community.
I love L.A.
Cheryl Thatt-Burbank 
Wonderful! Needs to be printed up in a local magazine.
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