One of our local restaurants closed for several months so they could cater to several relief shelters set up for victims of the wildfires that plagued an otherwise beautiful Los Angeles.
Oh, the inconvenience, I thought. How inconsiderate of them. Read more here>>
Recently, the restaurant reopened. All was right with the world again—until I wanted to visit Will Rogers State Park in Pacific Palisades. For those who don’t know, Will Rogers was a vaudeville performer, actor, and social commentator. He was born a citizen of the Cherokee Nation in the Indian Territory, otherwise known as Oklahoma. Rogers was popular in the 1930s for his wit. He died in 1935 when his small plane crashed on takeoff near Barrow, Alaska.
Rogers built a ranch in Pacific Palisades after much success as a movie star, columnist, and political humorist. — If you can’t make fun of politicians, who can you make fun of? Small children? His vast property overlooks the Pacific Ocean and includes a ranch house, a stable, and a polo field. Scores of those schoolchildren you say I shouldn’t poke fun at made pilgrimages to the park yearly. Here are a few before and after pictures of what once was a beautiful Shangri-La. I thought fire spared the State Park because it sat at the top of the mountain line. I was wrong.

090-P94573
Will Rogers State Historic Park
©2016, California State Parks.
Photo by Brian Baer

The sad math of the Pacific Palisades Fire: 12 Deaths. 105,000 People evacuated. 6,837 buildings destroyed. 37 square miles burned.

Weeks had passed, and it was time to visit a few friends who had so kindly endorsed my new book, A Walk Among Heroes. One such new friend is Fausto De La Torre. I featured Fausto in a blog post a few months ago. Because one of the chapters in my book covers the extraordinary life of the heavyweight boxer Joe Lewis, I sought out Fausto. His lifetime commitment to the youth of Pasadena is a local legend. Fausto is also the President of California’s Gold Gloves. His normal expression is a larger-than-life smile. After the victory, his overwhelming pride was beaming. You can reread that blog post here>>
Months ago as I watched the fires destroy hundreds of thousands of acres across Southern California, I felt comforted that nobody I knew was in imminent danger. The fires forced relatives and friends to evacuate, but none were injured, and their homes spared. I never bothered to check in with Fausto. He, after all, lived in Pasadena. Altadena was to the North. Surely, the fire missed him. With deep sadness, I give you this update. The Eaton Fire destroyed Fausto De La Terre’s home and most of Altadena. The night of the blaze, when the wind shifted, Fausto was working at an aid shelter. Of course, he was. Where else would he be? But his wife and son were at home. The 80+ mile per hour winds shifted, and they had moments to evacuate.
As they drove away, embers the size of newspaper pages covered the sky. In a matter of minutes, their whole neighborhood was gone. Completely gone.
It’s been a week, and I still don’t know what to say. When I gave Fausto the book, he and his family were still struggling. They’ll get up. They always do. The bell rings. Time for the next round.
The sad math of the Eaton Fire: 18 Deaths. 100,00+ People evacuated. 9,418 buildings destroyed. 22 square miles burned.