Recapping our Week and Feelings of Loss from the LA Fires
The week of January 6th began as the first full work week of the new year. It was sunny, and I was somewhat well-rested after enjoying our holiday travels and optimistic about a solid year to come with a few deals in the pipeline. My meteorologist father, who occasionally sends me random emails about weather anomalies to be aware of, sent an email on Tuesday morning. Subject: “Nasty Santa Ana Winds”. It was a bit concerning because of the descriptive “nasty”, which felt a bit more serious based on his typical choice of words. Plus, it was January and it had not rained yet this season. I hoped for the best and for nothing more than maybe a few downed trees. But the events of Tuesday around 10:30 AM dashed these hopes.
From my top floor, North-facing office in Marina del Rey, I saw a cloud of smoke from the Santa Monica Mountains blowing strongly towards the ocean. I looked closer and could see the outline of orange flames as well. Bad news! With this ominous warning and lots of dry fuel out there, I knew this one was going to spread quickly. I posted a warning to be careful on my Instagram and turned on the news and watched as it went from 20 acres to 200 acres in an hour or so. I had an appointment in Brentwood later that day. Let’s see if that can be moved earlier and then head home and hunker down until this can be handled.
By the evening, the fire has grown to close to 3,000 acres and more fires had sprung up. People were losing their homes at an alarming rate. Pacific Palisades, particularly Huntington Palisades, had been an aspirational neighborhood for us – a picturesque locale of wide streets, luxurious homes, and beautiful trees where my son and I used to go for destination bike rides and runs during the pandemic. We would go to the nearby gas station and pick up drinks and then climb and cool down in beautiful trees. Adding more pain, we learned that several businesses that my family and I have enjoyed over the years, including that gas station and a winery where I had hosted several events, had been destroyed. By Thursday, which was only two days (but felt like a week) later, as the air quality deteriorated, schools closed, and more fires began popping up. Anxiety reached a high level, and we were ready to head out of town before a potential evacuation order made that more difficult. We packed up the car with full suitcases, a few photo albums, and our boys and dog, heading to San Diego to stay with family.
Seeing the news from a distance as fires continue to grow was no less alarming. However, the fresh air and new setting allowed me to focus on how I could help. I had been contacted by a number of friends and clients who were looking for assistance in finding a rental for people who lost their homes. There had been a flurry of posts for rental “haves” and “needs” and even some apparent price gouging on the networking groups that I was a part of before I left, but things began to become more organized. I helped circulate a spreadsheet of available rentals and did some additional searches. I also hit the phones to help look for a new space for a school that lost its Palisades campus in the fire and my wife followed suit by offering pro bono legal services to help with lease review or potential re-zoning.
Being able to help in the way that I was best able gave me some positive feelings, but I was still reeling from the stories of friends and colleagues who lost everything they worked so hard for. So many memories in a matter of minutes, and of those who faced extreme danger and difficulty in evacuating. A range of emotions flooded my mind. Fear of danger from the fires themselves, from looters, from potential civil unrest. Uncertainty at the safety of our home and our security, as well as how this might impact my business. Anger at the arsonists who started some of the fires, at the looters who take advantage of vulnerable people who need to flee during a crisis, and at the institutions that mismanaged the water and forests, causing a perfect storm of unfortunate circumstances to lead to an existential crisis. Sadness at the homes and businesses lost, for the people directly affected and for myself and kids who will never get to enjoy some of my favorite neighborhoods or businesses again, or least for a while. Finally, I feel fortunate, that (as of this writing the fires are not completely contained), my family is safe, my home is unharmed, and there are many people who care enough about us to check to make sure we are okay. I am also grateful for the firefighters and first responders as well for the privilege of a safety net that I enjoy, but many others do not. This gives me more of a sense of duty to help others than ever before.