And Then., Redux.,.,.

Hollywood Hills, California

We were all devastated, watching the news when an inferno swept through Lahaina in 2023. While Maui was not my favorite island, I had spent a good deal of time in Lahaina since I was a teenager. It was inconceivable that it was just gone. The images of Front Street were heartbreaking, and the loss of life in that fast moving holocaust was overwhelmingly horrific and tragic.

This year, just after wishing all our friends a very happy new year, we watched the decimation of Pacific Palisades and Altadena. They are both special neighborhoods with a strong sense of community but clearly, fires don't discriminate. They rage on and it has now been almost a week of new fires, evacuations, and waiting for it to be over.

On Tuesday I texted my friend, Lynnette, to ask if her sister's home in the Palisades had survived. She didn't know and we still haven't found out. I also texted around my circle of friends, learning that many of them had no power in their homes. Joel also had his power cut. I invited them, one by one, to come stay at my house where I have a guest room with ensuite bath. Sort of a free Air'b'nb. Wednesday night Todd and Christopher were evacuated from their home which is in the Hollywood Hills behind the Hollywood Bowl. They needed to get out with their two large bernadoodles and were heading to a friend's home in the Valley.

The good news on Thursday was that Todd and Christopher (and Franklin and Marlowe) were able to return home. The fire that had imperiled their neighborhood had been quickly knocked down by aerial support. But the larger Palisades and Altadena fires raged on. When the Kenneth fire broke out in the west end of the San Fernando Valley and was heading for Las Virgenes at the mouth of Malibu Canyon, I texted Joel to see if he was on his way. His condominium complex was in the direct line of that fire. And he had been to this rodeo before with the Woolsey fire in 2018 when he and his late Bassett, Buster, had evacuated to my house just before the fire reached his complex. All of the buildings were spared but the brush and shrubbery was blackened and burned and there was smoke and water damage in and around all of the units.

By Friday morning we knew that the Kenneth fire had not jumped the 101 freeway but was running along it on the north side, heading into Ventura County. So Joel was able to return home. Late that afternoon I learned that the Palisades fire had turned east due to a change in wind direction, and was heading towards Mandeville Canyon and Brentwood. When I saw an evac warning along Mulholland Highway, my stress level finally rose to 7+ on a scale of 10. I was texting Joel when he called me. And I started to cry. I can't do this. I can't spend another sleepless night not knowing where this is going and if I'm going to need to get out. And he replied that he would be right there.

Throughout the evening we watched as the warning zone expanded. While I had my go bag ready, as it became more likely that I would need to leave, I began to pack more things -- random things. Joel told me to take my house deed and my Tesla's pink slip. I packed up my La Mer and a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label, an expensive bottle of scotch that Joel had given me for Christmas. I threw in some cashmere sweaters. I grabbed my dance bag. It was a combo of what I might need and what would be expensive to replace. Let's face it, you can't pack your furniture. I had already packed 20 years of my journals and stashed them in the trunk of my car. That's my life. I don't need photos. I need my memories in my words. But the process of packing essentials is haphazard at best. It's a grab and wait.

I heard the alarm go off on Joel's phone before mine did. He was in the kitchen and looked up when I walked in. Is that it? He said, That's it. Let's get you in your car. In anticipation, I had texted Todd and Christopher and they assured me I could go to them. They had even offered to come and pick me up! Joel followed me down the driveway, and we got into the traffic on the street below me. It was congested with the cars of other evacuees; stop and go as we approached 4-way stop intersections (although predictably, people were not taking their turn). I lost sight of Joel's Escape in my rearview mirror.

Connie had called me while I was still in my garage, and she stayed with me in voice all the way to Todd and Christopher's. I passed my favorite sushi restaurant, and a salsa club where Joel and I had danced many years back. And Miceli's restaurant where I used to go with my parents to hear the waiters sing opera and Broadway tunes. Swinging onto Cahuenga, I passed the Hollywood Bowl where several months back I had gone with three girlfriends to a Sarah McLachlan concert. I passed the Magic Castle where Todd's and my dear, dear friend Curt had gone to watch magic performed just six months before he passed away last December.

Franklin and Marlowe met me joyously when I arrived. Todd and Christopher both hugged me. And that was thirty-six hours ago. I am sitting at their dining room table. Christopher is reading the New York Times. Todd is working on his tablet. It's a quiet place, here in their home which is stunning. We haven't had a TV on, just music. And at night, this sheltering house is softly lit. It's like a zen space. But our phones and iPads are at hand, checking the progress and prognostications of this ridiculously intense calamity which has befallen our beloved city. Things don't seem to change much on the evac maps. Some small yellow areas of warning have been added. And it is beginning to feel like Groundhog day, with today tougher than yesterday. At least with an earthquake, besides aftershocks, the big upheaval is one and done. Then you can turn to the labor of repair and restoration. But this just goes on and on. The damage both physically and emotionally is incomprehensible. I am someone who initially does well in a crisis. And I have dealt with crises and tragedies in my lifetime. But that initial bravado slowly gives way to an expected degree of anxiety and then depression. Knowing this, I have to stay aware and use the tools I rely on. And a part of that is in gratitude. So far, I am a lucky one. To be forced out of my home by nature is a disruption. But so many thousands are experiencing a true tragedy. I feel I will be ok. I hope that my home will also be. But what I know is that this city, which I love and which holds all of my life's history and a great deal of my family's, will be profoundly damaged by this colossal event. And that will be for a very long time to come.