The Los Angeles Fires

So Hard to Process

It’s difficult to focus, to put two coherent thoughts together. The fires in Los Angeles have me swinging from shock to hyper-vigilance to making endless lists to walking from room to room, not quite able to recall why I’m there.

Except for the Watch Duty app. I don’t forget to keep checking that, even though I have notifications on.

We evacuated on Wednesday night due to the Runyon Canyon / Sunset fire that broke out two miles from where we live. I’ve never experienced that kind of fear and I’m struggling to find perspective.

Perhaps because Los Angeles is still battling fires, grappling with traumatic loss, and navigating uncertainty – it’s not possible for the brain to be both hyper-vigilant and formulate meaning out of what’s happening.

The surrealness of a fire fueled sunset makes me uneasy and somehow I’m also reminded how my family and I are so very fortunate. We are safe, our house is safe. We have a place to go if we need to evacuate again. We have so many friends and acquaintances who’ve reached out with offers of shelter. I’m overwhelmed by the love and tenderness, and feel badly that I’m literally not capable of responding in a timely way.

I think part of why I feel overwhelmed is because I’m grieving. Grieving for all the people who lost their homes and businesses—places that gave them security, comfort and memories. For me, one of those places is my youngest daughter Aurora’s elementary school, Pasadena Waldorf, which fell victim to the Eaton fire.

Here’s a photo from when Aurora graduated last June. It shows a glimpse in the background of the main house that was where admin did their thing plus a few classrooms. The rest of the campus was made up of small buildings. Only one classroom per grade.

A family photo on Aurora’s graduation day last June. Aurora stands with her sister Mitzi, her father Charles, and her mother (me) in front of the main building at Pasadena Waldorf, a historic Craftsman-style school.

We’d been part of the Waldorf community from when Aurora was in 3rd grade. If you don’t know Waldorf, you’re missing out on a great group of people. They’re almost like a clan. A small, intimate school where everyone knows your name.

The Waldorf campus was special. The first time I saw it, I thought, “This is it. This is where Aurora belongs.” Pathways with rock trim leading from building to building. Gorgeous old trees surrounding the five acres. A little garden.

All that’s left of the three-story Craftsman are the brick columns leading to the porch. That beautiful house stood for 120 years. In 1979, it almost faced demolition, but the Altadena Heritage Association saved it and gave it to Waldorf.

Here's a video of the school from the day after the Eaton fire started. Do I need to give a trigger warning? I don’t know … if you’ve been watching social and media reports, the destruction will look familiar.

We sat outside for graduation on the big lawn. It hurts a bit too much to remember …

If you’re inclined to help rebuild Pasadena Waldorf, here’s a vetted go-fund me. I truly appreciate you considering even the smallest donation.

I know I’ll be back to regular posts at some point. Just don’t know when. Until then …