Sorrow
We're OK, Los Angeles isn't
Los Angeles is burning. It’s all I can think about.
The first rule of fires is to drop everything, set the bullshit aside, and put out the fire. I wish more people, especially those outside of Los Angeles County, would follow that rule. Shit-talking and finger-pointing is counterproductive, i.e., dangerous. Also, people who use a crisis to shit-talk and finger-point don’t give a flying fuck about the people in the crisis or their audience; they are assholes who deal in bad faith and falsehoods for fun, profit, and clout. My advice: use this moment to exorcise these assholes from your media diet.
OK, now that we’ve got that out of the way, there’s a few things I want to share. There’s no real order to these thoughts, sorry. I’m frazzled and devastated and sad beyond belief. But we are safe, that’s the important thing.
As I write this, quite a few friends have lost their homes and many more friends just don’t know if their homes are still standing. They’re safe, though, and that’s what matters.
My childhood home is in a mandatory evacuation zone. Ditto for my elementary school. One especially surreal aspect of these fires is that the horrors and hardships of the present are compounded by the knowledge that your memories are burning. I’m pretty sure the Palisades home my friend Norm grew up in is gone; neither of us has been there in decades, but somehow my best memories of hanging out there have turned to ash.
Norm is a big fan of Bad Religion. That band was in heavy rotation for us when were teenagers. I used to think 21st Century (Digital Boy) was their most prescient song, but now I know it’s Los Angeles is Burning. The lyrics are eerily on point:
Somewhere high in the desert, near a curtain of a blue
Saint Ann's skirts are billowing
But down here in the city of limelights
The fans of Santa Ana are witheringAnd you can’t deny the living is easy
If you never look behind the scenery
It's showtime for dry climes
And bedlam is dreaming of rainWhen the hills of Los Angeles are burning
Palm trees are candles in the murder wind
So many lives are on the breeze
Even the stars are ill at ease
And Los Angeles is burningThis is not a test
Of the emergency broadcast system
Where Malibu fires and radio towers
Conspire to dance againAnd I cannot believe the media Mecca
They’re only trying to peddle reality
Catch it on prime time, story at nine
The whole world is going insaneWhen the hills of Los Angeles are burning
Palm trees are candles in the murder wind
So many lives are on the breeze
Even the stars are ill at ease
And Los Angeles is burningA placard reads, “The end of days”
Jacaranda boughs are bending in the haze
More a question than a curse
How could hell be any worse?
The flames are starting
The camera’s running
So take warningWhen the hills of Los Angeles are burning
Palm trees are candles in the murder wind
So many lives are on the breeze
Even the stars are ill at ease
And Los Angeles is burning
I’ve seen fires here before, of course. To live in Los Angeles, is to live with fire. But these fires are especially unsettling. Intellectually, I’ve always known that everything around me could burn, but somehow I never imagined that so much would burn all at once, and now that it is burning, I can’t help but feel as if I’m waking up from a forty-seven-year dream.
Like everyone else in Los Angeles, I’m not sleeping well. My waking hours are an endless disaster loop, punctuated by check-in calls with friends and family, and emergency alerts. My sleeping hours are uneasy, in part because I’m on edge waiting for an evacuation alert that will hopefully never come, and in part because I know that each morning brings fresh hell and more bad news. My kingdom for some good news, please.
Every once in a while, a local weather person will say, “the fire threat won’t end until we get a soaking ran.” This is true. What goes unsaid, however, is that a soaking ran will bring catastrophic mudslides. But we can only handle one disaster at a time, even if this disaster contains a multitude of fires.
It’s the number of fires, I think, that makes this moment so unnerving. Sometimes I think we’re getting the upper hand, then the wind kicks up, spreading embers from the fires currently burning and igniting new fires that likely don’t make the national news because they’re too small and, thankfully, suppressed in short order. Still, this moment feels like the other shoe just keeps dropping over and over again.
There’s a lot more to say, but also, there really isn’t anything to say that hasn’t already been said. Or, maybe I’m just too tired to keep writing. I don’t know. But I’ll close with this thought.
A lot of people need a lot of help. The local NBC news affiliate put together this list of charities that are helping people recover from the fire. I chose CORE, which has a track-record of helping people in disaster areas around the world. CORE also organized testing and vaccination sites around Los Angeles during the pandemic, so they have a special place in my heart.
This native Northern Californian’s heart is breaking for my Southern California neighbors. Thanks for the “Los Angeles is Burning” song. I’ve added to my “California’s Burning” Spotify playlist. Dave Alvin (Downey, CA native son) has a great song. “If the fires don’t get you, you know the mudslides will.”
Thank you Mr. Estrin, for sharing your thoughts and reactions in your usual straightforward and insightful way during this terrible time. Sending love!