The night before I had discussed with my daughter the idea of her coming to evacuate me from my community, since I no longer had a car. The fire was still a mile away, but the winds were raging at 85 mph, and the thought of her driving to get me seemed dangerous. I assumed we would be evacuated when the firefighters and sheriff thought it was appropriate.
First lesson. Don’t wait for authorities to tell you what you see with your own eyes. At 5:00 a.m. I could smell the smoke and I couldn’t even see the trees outside my window. When I looked at the building across from me I could see flames behind it. Still no evacuation alarm but it was TIME TO GO. But where? Fortunately, I had already packed a suitcase with key documents and a change of clothes. My shoes were by the door. I decided to go down to the main building lobby, because I assumed there would be someone down there with more information. As I left my building, three firefighters came running in, and a very loud alarm sounded. They didn’t even look at me. They ran past me down the hall, knocking and kicking on doors.
When I got to the lobby of the main building, I could see a bus being loaded with residents, so I went out there with my bag and got on the bus. I texted my daughter and said, “I’m on a bus and on my way somewhere.” (She wondered if I meant a City Bus, so it wasn’t a reassuring message.) We sat in the bus for 15 minutes or so and then when the bus was full, they took off. Fast. Urgently. Swerving to avoid trees in the road. We held on to whatever we could grab. I called my daughter and was able to tell her where we were going. Another bus was loaded behind us. Residents were in pajamas, some without shoes or jackets, a few with their dogs (who behaved better than the humans by the way.) Almost no one had a “go bag.” Most had only what was on their backs. We later learned how close the fire really was to our buildings, but the flames and the smoke made it clear we had no extra time to evacuate.
When we got to the Convention Center, it was chaotic. People had brought dogs. Some dogs were fighting with each other. People were walking around in a daze. At first, there seemed to be no one in charge. Our residents gathered in one of the ballrooms, sitting on folding chairs. Everyone looking pretty stunned. Gradually, there was water, a cup of coffee, a McMuffin someone shared. Our staff appeared and began trying to figure out who was present and who might have already left.
My daughter and my grandson made it to the Convention Center about an hour later, when they could see the roads and avoid the fallen trees. We went to my daughter’s house, which was now without power. Dark and cold. Fortunately, she had a good friend with a house in Palm Springs so we got in the car and drove there. (Thanks to such a good friend!) Gradually the sky lightened. The air cleared. There were palm trees and flowers and people doing normal things like walking their dogs and shopping.
I thought all had burned back home. I assumed I had lost everything. I had no idea what was next.
A few days later — I slowly learned where my friends had gone. Some went to other retirement facilities like ours; others to hotels or the home of family or friends. We all assumed we had lost everything. All the news said that the community of Altadena was gone.
When I checked my bag to see what I had brought, I realized I had forgotten something rather important — the urn with my husband’s ashes! We laughed about that. Ashes to ashes, we thought. But I could never have managed to carry that urn with all I had on my hands. Rest in Peace, Gary. You would not have wanted to live through this. it was the very definition of hell.
Now only a few weeks later — seems like a year –we are all safe. Monte Cedro survived and so did we, although more than a dozen of our staff lost their homes. There was almost no external damage and little smoke damage inside of Monte Cedro. But there was also no power, no water, and the air was not safe to breathe. These photos are from after the fire. From the roof of Monte Cedro it looks like a normal neighborhood. The lemon tree in front still has lemons.
So we now wait in our respective temporary homes. Grandma has come to “visit.” We hope it’s not going to be too long, but we don’t know. We have begun the process of being the visitor you want, not the visitor you hope will leave soon.
That has resulted in some funny anecdotes that occur when parents move in with their chldren. First, the heat. Most of our younger relatives do not keep their heat at 72 or 73 like we do. Sweaters are necessary. They sit around in short sleeves. We huddle in jackets! Then there are the toilets. We are used to grab bars to get ourselves up off the toilet, or take a shower. No grab bars now, so we are very careful. We don’t get up or go to sleep at the same time as our family who are many years younger than us. So we do our best to accommodate. If we left our hearing aids in our apartments, we find ourselves shouting a bit or keeping the television on too loud. We don’t have enough clothing to make the changes we are used to, so there is some washing out of underwear and socks going on. We aren’t sure what we should order online and what we should try to just “do without for awhile.” Then there’s the mail. Our post office burned down so whatever was in the pipeline is in the ashes now. Some organizations are helpful about refunds and redirects, but not all. Most of us take at least some prescription medicine, so getting those redirected somewhere else becomes a challenge. Some pharmacies are helpful with “overrides” but not all. Our staff made heroic efforts to enter the apartments when they were allowed to go back in a few days ago, retrieve the main things we needed to survive now — hearing aids, glasses, prescriptions.
As the days have passed– and there have only been 17 as of this writing — we have all gradually accommodated to being “somewhere else.” We are house guests who are trying our best not to be in the way. Grandma has come to visit. We sure hope it won’t be long before she leaves!
(Helen is one of our 100 year old residents! She’s in better shape than most of us young’uns.)
If you would like to donate to some worthy and reliable causes related to the fire, check out:
https://www.ecsforseniors.org/montecedro/donate — this fund goes directly to staff of Monte Cedro who lost their homes
https://www.audacy.com/knxnews/news/local/chirla-opens-fund-to-offer-families-impacted-by-fires
and particularly related to Altadena, whose residents lost so much:
https://www.pledge.to/BlackLA – there were many black families in Altadena who lost everything.