We Take Care of Each Other

Life in a Red Flag Warning

As I sit here and write, evacuation notices are popping up on my phone and computer screen because of a new, rapidly expanding fire here in Los Angeles County. Three weeks ago I’d never heard of the Watch Duty app. Now it chirps warnings at me throughout the day, updates on evacuation zones and fire containment. My neighborhood has been under Red Flag Warning since the wind and fires started two weeks ago. Officially, this is what’s called “a particularly dangerous situation alert.”

Unofficially, what it has meant for me, is that my kids’ school closed for three days, and they are now mostly kept inside because of air quality. It meant the giant, locked gate door we have that abuts an alley busted open in the middle of a wind storm at 9 p.m. The secure, metal lock snapped apart in the 50 mph winds and the large wooden door — clanging back and forth on rickety hinges — suddenly became a particularly dangerous situation we couldn’t leave unchecked. So in true LA weirdness, we borrowed (stole?) the giant, rolling dumpster that belongs to the very famous boomer musician whose storage facility/production office is on the other side of our alley, and pushed it up against our gate so the door wouldn’t fly off and hurt someone, or something.

It has meant a lot of anxiety and panic, and some very high-stress moments. Trying to contain my fear for my kids’ sake. Texting friends in real-time as they evacuated the Sunset Fire in mere minutes because it moved so quickly. Finding the letters my mom wrote me to read after she died, and making sure they were in my go bag. It meant I had to get off all social media last week and try very hard to take care of my nervous system for the sake of myself and my family.

Worst of all, it has meant endless pain and loss for people I know, and do not know, and for this city I am proud to call home. I naively assumed, when I learned of my first friend who had lost their home in the Eaton Fire, that she would be an anomaly. She was not. So many people in my extended community have lost their homes, schools, and neighborhoods. A few hours after I blocked all social media off my phone I found out one of my dear friend’s parents lost their home in Altadena. Her kids’ school is also gone.

Add to this the inauguration of Donald Trump this week, and the chaos and cruelty that has ensued. This has been and continues to be, a really hard time for so many people. The grief and loss is hard to comprehend.

A few months ago, I started a practice with myself in which I tried to find bits of humanity and kindness around me. I paid extra attention when I was out in the world, noticing when a stranger helped another person grab a high-reaching item at Costco, or watching as a grown man gleefully rode his shopping cart like a scooter in the parking lot. I wanted and needed to remember that most people are good.

Never has this been more evident to me than over the last few weeks, as so many people have stepped up to support each other here in Los Angeles. I’ve been a part of fundraising, donation drives, clothing and food drop-offs, and furniture exchanges. Local businesses have become distribution hubs. Friends have organized full-on free stores full of new items for fire victims in mere days. People have gathered in community because being together truly helps bring light in times of darkness. Friends and family members across the country have checked in, donated and helped from afar. Did you read the NY Times story about the couple who tried to save their koi fish from the fires and their pond caretaker who helped rescue them? I cried. Here’s a gift link so you can cry too.

I’m deeply grateful to everyone — strangers and friends alike — who have exhibited the best of humanity during these last few weeks, and reminded me that hope grows through helping others.

Many of you so kindly donated to the “micro-fundraiser” I shared on Instagram for the Johnson family, who lost their home of 39 years in the Eaton Fire. We were able to raise $1500 thanks to small donations. They are about $10,000 away from meeting their goal, and truly, every little bit counts. If you’d like to donate to help in their recovery, you can find their GoFundMe right here.

Fiorenza Art created a print to raise funds for the Bunny Museum, which was lost in the Eaton Fire. Mine just arrived yesterday and it’s already hung on the wall. It’s a beautiful and necessary reminder of what I am taking away from these last few weeks, and carrying with me in the future: We take care of each other.

Fiorenza Art

Lots of love to you and yours,

Kate