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ALTADENA, Calif. — The first alerts rang out on Saturday, January 4, as a local sheriff’s station volunteer cautioned that a significant windstorm was on the way. The urgency escalated quickly.
As I headed out on Sunday, dressed in a bowtie and tuxedo to cover the Golden Globes, I didn’t realize what awaited us. By Tuesday morning, I was driving toward the Pacific Palisades wildfire to gather footage for our coverage, while my wife, Meg, prepared our two cat carriers and filmed our house for insurance purposes—just in case.
On the return journey, I noticed the ominous orange smoke above. A colleague informed me of another fire starting in Altadena. Curious, I parked at a local gas station near the Bunny Museum, with our favorite pizza spot, Side Pie, across the street. The iconic Fox’s cafe, established in 1955, was just down the way.
Within an hour of ignition, fierce flames were raging over the mountainside near Eaton Canyon. Wearing a KN95 mask and ski goggles, I observed the situation. Though the blaze was still a few miles from our home, the ferocity of the Santa Ana winds felt unprecedented.
Upon arriving home, I delivered dire news to Meg: we needed to evacuate. Our daughter, Reese, was away at a school trip, and in about an hour, we collected our essentials. I grabbed an Ozomatli sweatshirt I had received for Christmas, jeans, vitamins, and a portable speaker. Meg packed her belongings along with Reese’s essentials—a school backpack and a couple of stuffed animals. I hesitated on taking wine bottles but ultimately decided against it.
Among the critical items, we secured passports and birth certificates, along with a litter box and wet food for the cats. After loading both cars, I inquired if our neighbors needed assistance. When I learned that our neighbor’s husband required help, I went over and assisted her in getting him into their Subaru.
I captured a final photo from our driveway, showcasing our home with a reddish-orange haze lingering behind. With that image preserved, we drove away into a night filled with flames, smoke, and uncertainties that would reshape our lives forever.
This was the essence of our home: Our journey in Altadena began when Reese attended a local summer camp, allowing me to experience the serene transformation as we passed the lush pine trees and calm streets. When Reese was five, we found a charming three-bedroom, two-bath house that offered a breathtaking view of the San Gabriel Mountains and featured a tree in the front yard, perfect for a swing.
Our home, constructed in 1958, had previously belonged to our next-door neighbor. Both Meg and I were captivated by the clerestory windows, hardwood floors, and exposed wooden beams overhead. Despite being painted brown, we revitalized the beams, revealing their natural finish. The remarkable diversity of our neighborhood was a great source of joy—an array of friendly nods and greetings greeted us on our walks down our sidewalk-less street. In addition to a long-standing Black community, the tranquility, greenery, and reasonably priced homes attracted many artists and musicians from the wider Los Angeles area.
When conditions permitted, I often trekked up the hill from our driveway to the trail leading to Echo Mountain and eventually to Inspiration Point. The trail was truly my escape; the remnants of a historic resort that once stood there symbolized the landscape’s resilience after wildfires in the early 1900s. On one of our hikes, Reese and her friend discovered shards of a pot while digging in the dirt, pieces we excitedly carried home to clean and attempt to reconstruct.
Our neighborhood dynamic shifted two years ago when a family with two daughters moved next door. The girls formed an inseparable bond with Reese, enjoying rooftop fireworks views on the Fourth of July, playing ping-pong in our backyard, or gaming together in Reese’s room. Alongside them, we welcomed two orange tabby cats, Luke and Archie, into our lives, who helped us cope during the pandemic.
After the passing of Meg’s father, we renovated the house with her inheritance, blending modern elements with the original mid-century character. Meg artfully curated spaces adorned with cherished artwork, photographs, and souvenirs from our travels, while converting the garage into a cozy retreat for me.
Having transitioned to remote work, I enjoyed daily walks through the neighborhood, taking in its vibrant tapestry of life from disheveled cars in yards to horse riders and modern architectural marvels. The community hosted a rich blend of cultures, perspectives, and experiences—a true mosaic that epitomized our home.
With the urgencies of evacuation behind us, we settled for the night with friends, but by morning, the pull to return to Altadena was strong. Approaching from the freeway, I was met with a harrowing sight akin to a scene from a disaster film—an enveloping black cloud of smoke.
As I drove past the always-busy McDonald’s, I witnessed homes ablaze nearby. Understanding I would have poor cell service near my house, I stopped to send live video updates. The looming question loomed heavy in my mind—what had become of our home?
After an unsuccessful attempt to drive up to our street, thick smoke obscured visibility, forcing me to retreat from the encroaching flames. I eventually arrived at an evacuation site at the Pasadena Convention Center, an incredible scene as volunteers and paramedics assisted those displaced, while food was provided by generous organizations.
After some time, I navigated back toward our house. The drive proved treacherous with downed electrical poles and smoke-filled air as debris littered the roads. As I peered into our street, I was struck by the devastation: nearly every home on our block was nothing but ashes. The beloved remnants, such as Reese’s tree swing and the backyard table, remained alongside the charred chimney and fireplace, but everything that defined our living experience there was gone. In that moment, I grieved deeply for what once was as I gazed at the remnants of a life that felt like it had vanished without a trace. Driving back down the hill, I couldn’t hold back my tears.
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