A couple of years ago, I drove my Alzheimer's-addled Dad from his home in Camarillo to the house where he grew up in Pacific Palisades. Although he'd told me stories about the halcyon days of his youth all my life, I'd never actually been to that neighborhood or seen that house.
As we were standing outside, the current owner of the house pulled up, giving us a quizzical look. Upon explaining that my father had lived in her house in the 1950's, she invited us inside. What a treat for my Dad, and for me as well. I could see his mind reeling with old memories as we walked from room to room, he describing the way things were back then. Obviously there had been some changes over the years, but the basic floorplan was essentially the same. We stayed long enough that I started feeling awkward, then I gently persuaded my Dad that it was time to go. We went to the park and he told more stories; one of them was about the time when he was 7 years old and met his friend Wes by throwing a rock at him (for no apparent reason - boys will be boys) from the hilltop. That friendship endures to this day.
I'm so glad we had the opportunity to do all that. That house on Galloway is now smoking ash, along with all those other beautiful homes in that neighborhood. At least Dad got to see it again before it was gone. The places where my mother and her parents lived are gone as well.
Ironically, my wife and I visited Lahaina a couple of months before Covid, and were unable to return before that town burned down in a similar fashion. And we live in Santa Rosa, which burned in 2017, with fires in 2019 and 2020 as well. The PTSD is a real thing...
Maybe ten years after my parents had sold our house in the Palisades and moved across an ocean, my brother and I were in the neighborhood and were, similarly, invited inside our old home to take a look. The new owner was just leaving, so we didn’t have much time, and they had substantively remodeled it, so it was already not the home of our youth, but to stand in the place of one’s childhood is still a powerful thing.
It was evident to me when I listed to EL#259 that we share several stomping grounds in common. Thank You and Bret for all you do to challenge your listeners - your podcast helps me to stay sane!
"You can't go home again" Even when you try home is never the same. At my age I daren't fret about what I've lost. Better to be grateful for what I still have. The years I have lived in "hurricane alley" have seen a lot of loss and tragedy. Things can be replaced. Loved ones can't. Disasters at least make us face what are real losses and what aren't. But knowing that human greed and hubris contibuted to those losses sticks in the craw for a long time. Makes forgiveness a large ask.
Thank you, Heather for writing this account of the Palisades fires. I was able to “see” and feel more of the deep tragedy of this event than any of the other news coverage.
Lest we forget Madame Wu's the only bar in town, the Hacienda Galavan Mexican restaurant across from the Bay Pharmacy, Palisades Dolphins Pop Warner football and Junior Lifeguards. 3 of the 4 surfers I mentioned in the first paragraph lost their homes and everything else. One of them is at UCLA medical center getting skin grafts after being burned on 80% of his body. PS I think the bum who got murdered was named Max, he was a harmless neighborhood fixture for many years. Thanks for the memories, here are mine
I'm from New England and have visited California once, San Francisco, back in 1991 when Oakland was on fire. Reading through the memories of native Californians these last few days has made me nostalgic for a place I have never seen. The magic of California, and Los Angeles, was that it was the best of America. The most beautiful. A rare combination of glamour and earth, where movie stars and surfers and farmers all belonged. Everything about the Golden State was larger than life. This tragedy adds to a sadness; a grief for an American icon, like seeing a famous actress down on her luck, sifting through trash cans. I want to see California returned to its glory. Thank you for sharing your memories with us.
It has been devastating to watch so many lose so much. Thank you for showing the beautiful Palisades you know. We live in hurricane alley and we are also surrounded by flammable pine timberland. This past week I pointed out to my husband a stack of our now grown children's K-12 schoolwork in our closet and told him that must be loaded first if we ever have to evacuate for a fire.
Every morning since the fires I wake up wondering what everyone who's been affected is doing now, where they could possibly be, what they're missing of their recent lives (no doubt it's nearly everything) and how I'd ever manage to move on were I in their shoes. Then I think of all the trash that now has to go somewhere - just the burned cars alone - what kind of unearthly dump can handle all that? Thanks so much for this column, Heather - I don't think many of us have a clue about what the downstream effects will be - for everyone in this country.
I wonder these things too. I can’t envision what happens next. I’m concerned that few competent enough to handle the gargantuan tasks ahead are in positions to envision or execute the job ahead.
Everything to do with this fire political and not will have major downstream ramifications as survivors make choices on rebuilding if even possible, or moving. The Palisades will return Phoenix like, but not the same. Hopefully lessons learned will modify future wildfire damage. My heart goes out to those in LA and western NC who lost everything.
Such sweet memories! Cherish them as no one can steal them away from you or destroy them. This only brings home to me once again, how fleeting life and all it contains really is and how quickly one's world can change. And yet somehow, the human spirit transcends and continues to fight on.
The Bunny Museum burned down in the Eaton fire. But there is still someone good in that to report: they got all the living rabbits and cats out before it was consumed.
Will it be rebuilt? Who knows. It's a steep cost to do so and so many other needs are pressing as well.
But they saved the sentient ones so accolades for them.
A couple of years ago, I drove my Alzheimer's-addled Dad from his home in Camarillo to the house where he grew up in Pacific Palisades. Although he'd told me stories about the halcyon days of his youth all my life, I'd never actually been to that neighborhood or seen that house.
As we were standing outside, the current owner of the house pulled up, giving us a quizzical look. Upon explaining that my father had lived in her house in the 1950's, she invited us inside. What a treat for my Dad, and for me as well. I could see his mind reeling with old memories as we walked from room to room, he describing the way things were back then. Obviously there had been some changes over the years, but the basic floorplan was essentially the same. We stayed long enough that I started feeling awkward, then I gently persuaded my Dad that it was time to go. We went to the park and he told more stories; one of them was about the time when he was 7 years old and met his friend Wes by throwing a rock at him (for no apparent reason - boys will be boys) from the hilltop. That friendship endures to this day.
I'm so glad we had the opportunity to do all that. That house on Galloway is now smoking ash, along with all those other beautiful homes in that neighborhood. At least Dad got to see it again before it was gone. The places where my mother and her parents lived are gone as well.
Ironically, my wife and I visited Lahaina a couple of months before Covid, and were unable to return before that town burned down in a similar fashion. And we live in Santa Rosa, which burned in 2017, with fires in 2019 and 2020 as well. The PTSD is a real thing...
Maybe ten years after my parents had sold our house in the Palisades and moved across an ocean, my brother and I were in the neighborhood and were, similarly, invited inside our old home to take a look. The new owner was just leaving, so we didn’t have much time, and they had substantively remodeled it, so it was already not the home of our youth, but to stand in the place of one’s childhood is still a powerful thing.
Thank you for sharing.
It was evident to me when I listed to EL#259 that we share several stomping grounds in common. Thank You and Bret for all you do to challenge your listeners - your podcast helps me to stay sane!
I love this very much. Thank you for sharing. It so reminds me of an old favorite of mine:
https://youtu.be/mKRQwD163Xs?feature=shared
"Well I looked into a house I once lived in
Around the time I first went on my own
When the roads were as many as
The places I had dreamed of
And my friends and I were one
Now the distance is done and the search has begun
I've come to see where my beginnings have gone
Oh the walls and the windows were still standing
And the music could be heard at the door
Where the people who kindly endured my odd questions
Asked if I came very far
And when my silence replied they took me inside
Where their children sat playing on the floor..."
"...And I looked into the faces all passing by
It's an ocean that will never be filled
And the house that grows older and finally crumbles
That even love cannot rebuild
It's a hotel at best, you're here as a guest
You oughta make yourself at home
While you're waiting for the rest"
A lovely reminder to be here now, always, knowing that nothing lasts forever.
"You can't go home again" Even when you try home is never the same. At my age I daren't fret about what I've lost. Better to be grateful for what I still have. The years I have lived in "hurricane alley" have seen a lot of loss and tragedy. Things can be replaced. Loved ones can't. Disasters at least make us face what are real losses and what aren't. But knowing that human greed and hubris contibuted to those losses sticks in the craw for a long time. Makes forgiveness a large ask.
Thank you, Heather for writing this account of the Palisades fires. I was able to “see” and feel more of the deep tragedy of this event than any of the other news coverage.
Lest we forget Madame Wu's the only bar in town, the Hacienda Galavan Mexican restaurant across from the Bay Pharmacy, Palisades Dolphins Pop Warner football and Junior Lifeguards. 3 of the 4 surfers I mentioned in the first paragraph lost their homes and everything else. One of them is at UCLA medical center getting skin grafts after being burned on 80% of his body. PS I think the bum who got murdered was named Max, he was a harmless neighborhood fixture for many years. Thanks for the memories, here are mine
https://petermaguire.substack.com/p/ode-to-the-palisades
I'm from New England and have visited California once, San Francisco, back in 1991 when Oakland was on fire. Reading through the memories of native Californians these last few days has made me nostalgic for a place I have never seen. The magic of California, and Los Angeles, was that it was the best of America. The most beautiful. A rare combination of glamour and earth, where movie stars and surfers and farmers all belonged. Everything about the Golden State was larger than life. This tragedy adds to a sadness; a grief for an American icon, like seeing a famous actress down on her luck, sifting through trash cans. I want to see California returned to its glory. Thank you for sharing your memories with us.
What a beautiful way to describe California. Yes. And thank you.
It has been devastating to watch so many lose so much. Thank you for showing the beautiful Palisades you know. We live in hurricane alley and we are also surrounded by flammable pine timberland. This past week I pointed out to my husband a stack of our now grown children's K-12 schoolwork in our closet and told him that must be loaded first if we ever have to evacuate for a fire.
Every morning since the fires I wake up wondering what everyone who's been affected is doing now, where they could possibly be, what they're missing of their recent lives (no doubt it's nearly everything) and how I'd ever manage to move on were I in their shoes. Then I think of all the trash that now has to go somewhere - just the burned cars alone - what kind of unearthly dump can handle all that? Thanks so much for this column, Heather - I don't think many of us have a clue about what the downstream effects will be - for everyone in this country.
I wonder these things too. I can’t envision what happens next. I’m concerned that few competent enough to handle the gargantuan tasks ahead are in positions to envision or execute the job ahead.
I'm very curious about the migration aftermath. What patterns will emerge for those who won't be waiting for the years of rebuilding ahead.
Everything to do with this fire political and not will have major downstream ramifications as survivors make choices on rebuilding if even possible, or moving. The Palisades will return Phoenix like, but not the same. Hopefully lessons learned will modify future wildfire damage. My heart goes out to those in LA and western NC who lost everything.
Dick Minnis removingthecataract.substack.com
Such sweet memories! Cherish them as no one can steal them away from you or destroy them. This only brings home to me once again, how fleeting life and all it contains really is and how quickly one's world can change. And yet somehow, the human spirit transcends and continues to fight on.
The Bunny Museum burned down in the Eaton fire. But there is still someone good in that to report: they got all the living rabbits and cats out before it was consumed.
Will it be rebuilt? Who knows. It's a steep cost to do so and so many other needs are pressing as well.
But they saved the sentient ones so accolades for them.
https://www.thebunnymuseum.com/