The Los Angeles Wildfires
I am a Midwesterner through and through, but I have strong ties to Los Angeles. My parents both grew up in Sylmar, a town nestled in the San Fernando Valley between Burbank and Santa Clarita (NW of L.A.). I still have some family in the area, and partly for this reason I chose to attend a university in Los Angeles proper. After graduating I spent several amazing years in Lakewood, Torrance, and Long Beach (on the south side of L.A.). At one time I imagined I could never leave Southern California, and every time I visit and step out of the airport, I feel this weird combination of relief at a homecoming marked by the unique L.A. smells of palm trees, ocean, and sunblock and the thrum of excitement as the energy of 18 million people electrifies me.
Not only do I have family there, but I also have a number of friends who still call Greater Los Angeles home. My social media feeds have been full of updates about the fires tearing through a densely populated metropolis in one of the most catastrophic U.S. disasters recorded (at least in terms of financial cost). And the crazy thing is that at the time of this writing, we may not even be through the worst of it. As one of my Okie friends noted, the difference between a tornado (what we see constantly in our part of the country) and a wildfire is the tornado buzzes through in minutes and it’s done. The Palisades Fire has already been raging a week, at this point it’s only 17% contained, and the weather experts are forecasting exacerbating conditions.
Needless to say, my heart and mind have been on the people of Los Angeles a lot lately, and in the newscasts and in my friends’ posts I am witnessing the toll this disaster is having on them:
Even those who are not directly threatened by the fires are dealing with physiological hardships, especially because of the low air quality. Many are concerned about the safety of loved ones (social) in threatened communities. One of my besties who is not that close to the fires is grappling with how to assuage her young daughter’s fears about the fires taking their home (safety).
Those who are somewhat close to the fires are wrestling with the fear of an unknown future (autonomy, safety): Will they be asked to evacuate? What will they take with them? Where will they go? Will they lose their home?
Those who have lost their homes not only have lost their refuge (safety), they’ve also lost clothes and other protective gear (physiological), cherished objects attached to memories that are a part of their identity (esteem), and their communities (social). Some who feel like they’ve lost everything are dealing with despair and hopelessness (autonomy). Even those who are financially well off are facing months of paperwork hell (insurance, government aid applications, banks/mortgage lenders, replacing important documents lost in the fires, etc.), which can be stressful (safety).
Finally, in addition to those losing homes, many have lost their businesses (growth).
One heartwarming aspect of any disaster, however, is the support that emerges for the victims, including from the community of other victims (social), and that support can fan the flames (probably an ill-timed pun) of hope (autonomy). Have you lost a home in a natural disaster? If so, what advice would you give to the Angelenos affected?