On Lake Avenue in the heart of Altadena, I roamed two things the other day.
There is still a lot of uncleared rubble on the commercial belt, such as frozen images from the lingering nightmare, but there is also music – the buzzing symphony of the new building.
Altadena was scarred and sad.
The cross above the burnt remains of the Altadena Community Church were destroyed six months ago in the Eaton Fire.
Altadena is recovering and rebuilding.
I’m stopping outside Altadena Community Churchstill looked hit by a bomb, watching the tractor nearby Rabbit MuseumThe plan has already developed a plan so that the founders call it The most exciting place on Earth.
Steve Lopez
Steve Lopez is a California native who has been a Los Angeles Times columnist since 2001. He has won more than a dozen national journalism awards and is a four-time Pulitz finalist.
I called Victoria Knapp, President of Altadena Town Council, to tell her how much I like her paper Colorado Boulevard newspaper.
One sign says, “Dana has nine lives”, sits on a hedge, and an inflatable black cat in the fire area along E. Mendocino Street in Altadena.
“We lost our homes, history, trees older than any of us, and the sense of security may never return,” Knapp wrote. But the spirit of Altadena will be her redemption: “We have lost a lot. We have never lost each other. That’s what I know we will.”
The six-month marking has made little sense since the Eaton and Palisade fires or any other history book disaster. But it’s an opportunity to revisit and remember.
Ten million buildings were destroyed.
Thirty people died.
Countless livelihoods have been subverted.
The Altadena community church, destroyed in the Eaton fire 6 months ago, still needs to be removed from the site.
Knapp lost her home and planned to rebuild, and did not underestimate the years ahead, but as we spoke, she threw a few candy into that bitter cup of coffee. Building permits are being issuedShe said 98% of the foundations in all properties were cleared despite the remaining outliers on Lake Avenue.
It’s all promising and I want to believe that the damage to the Eaton fires and the neighborhoods are at least somewhat similar to their identities. The same goes for Pacific Palisades and Malibu, and I saw the same juxtaposition of destruction and rebirth on my visit a few days ago.
I looked at a army of trucks and hard hats, polishing and grunting on the blank canvas of a ruined town. On the edge of the Palisades commercial corridor, I saw the spine of a fallen staircase, like a small section of broken vertebrae. Here and there, many places have been cleared, with the background being the high seas.
It’s too early now What these unique, beloved communities will look like in four to five years. Insurance disputesThe lawsuit and the exact cause of the Eaton and Palisade fires can take years. The debate over the lack of preparation and warning system failure remains fierce. Investors linger Like a vulture. Some fire victims are determined to rebuild, some cannot afford it, and some are still weighing their options.
What we know is The fire and wind will come backas they always did, keep Los Angeles on the cusp of disaster. Not only on the western edge of Altadena and the county, but everywhere. Los Angeles was built for drama, with the same geological power, breeding beauty and risk – San Andreas’s fault Located in the far end of St. Gabriels and helped create these peaks.
A worker destroyed businesses along Mariposa Street on Lake Avenue in the Eaton Fire.
As I checked with evacuees I knew, I noticed their ruthless wave of sorrow, hope, anger, fear, disorientation.
“I can’t surround the way this could happen.” Alice Lynn, A therapist who calls its Highland community and the wider Palisade community “change forever.” She was temporarily housing during the cleaning and cleaning operations.
“How would I get home when I was in the mid-80s, when everyone around me would see this kind of destruction and loss, how would I feel?” Lynn asked.
Her friends Joe and Arline Halper, 95 and 89 will no longer be just a few steps away. The property they owned was cleaned and the “for-sale” sign was where their front door was. Neither of them saw the future in a high-level living community before the fire, but that’s where they were in Playa Vista.
The swing still hangs on the charred playground of the Altadena Community Church, which was destroyed six months ago in the Eaton fire.
“The loss of our family, community and community is tragic for us, but it’s a very gentle landing,” Joe said. They have made new friends, including several other Palisade evacuators, and Joe told me that his dear young bride had taken over the pickle, but he worked hard.
In Altadena, a sign expresses a wish and a promise – “The beautiful Altadena…the roses will bloom again” – businesses are reopening, including The whole circle is frugal. I pushed the door and manager Alma Ayala told me that people in the distance had donated clothes, household supplies and other items to store the store.
Ayala believes that some of them come from those who keep the rescued items in storage. As the people who lost everything moved back to Altadena, she suspected that the items in the store would discover new homes and second life.
“This is my third time opening this store,” Ayala said.
When it opened in 2016.
Now.
Si altadenans Steve Hofvendahl and his wife Lili Knight are both actors Filter their choices. Nearly 70, they knew they could replace the houses lost on West Palm, almost the entire neighborhood was incinerated. But they were unable to bring back mini doors in their lifetime, which kept them busy and produced goods for the porch market, bringing their neighbors together.
I wonder if those working on reconstruction would tremble or flash back as the first wildfire nearby roamed on Altadena.
“I think it will be the wind,” Hofvantal said.
His neighbor, Jonni Miller, Already working with her husband, Anthony Ruffin, she lived on West Palm when black families moved there when she was unpopular in most of Los Angeles
A hopeful message was left on the property gates in the Eaton Fire area.
Miller and Ruffin (both social workers’ work both homeless – live in temporary dormitories in Glendale, but return to their property every now and then. On a recent evening visit, Miller was shocked by the call of the coyote. How screams were longer and bigger than she remembers, “fearing fear in a way I’ve never been afraid before.”
She said she suspected that “the lack of sound in the missing house” was a factor, adding: “Once we go home again, I will be more cautious with getting our animals out.”
When I have Verne and Diane Williams, They said they remained committed to rebuilding on Braeburn Road in Altadena, where they lived for half a century. But they knew it would take a while.
“Worrying we’re still not alive,” Diane said.
She handed her phone to Verne, who was eager to share the update. Verne told me that the architects of their new home made contact at Sony Pictures Studios in Culver City. There they took the blueprints and a studio employee used some projection equipment to make magic on stage.
“They were able to take the architectural plan and project it … on this huge floor, where I could walk to our new home,” Verne said. “This is the most exciting event since what happened six months ago.”
One thing I noticed on the cleaned and graded property in Altadena, a cemetery of huge and memorable lost houses:
There are about a lot of signs that say “Altadena is not for sale” as if there are signs of “for sale”.
I understand two emotions.
The day after the fire, I met Mark Turner and his wife Claire Wavell, Evacuation Center in Pasadena. Turner showed their daughter photos of the 13-year-old house that survived mostly intact on the nearly erased streets.
The family has moved out more than a dozen times since then and now settles in an Arizona-owned rental property. May went to school there, and given the uncertainty about when or whether to become Altadena again, they would seriously consider selling their beloved house, even knowing that it survived the fire.
The sign that provides Altadena with a “hug and kiss” is placed in the front yard of a house that was destroyed in the Eaton fire.
“To be honest, it’s heartbreaking,” Wavell said.
Weiville has been writing poetry to clear out all the noise. Among them, “the return of the wind”, “a thousand years of a week” and “6 months. ”
Today is 6 months
Our lives have changed forever…
Today is 6 months
That night, my mind was burning
In my heart
steve.lopez@latimes.com
