January 18, 2025

Sometimes the most spectacular sunrises and sunsets appear
when something is terribly wrong in or around our communities.

There is a true lack of coherence in this post. It was written over several days during the fire. I have tried to make it all fit together, but I know it really doesn’t. The lack of coherence kind of jives with trying to make sense of all that has happened since January 7. Thanks for understanding.

We are safe.

Our house is still standing.

But way too many friends and southern California citizens have lost their homes.

I tell myself all the time that I’m ready to lose our house. It is what keeps me sane during the fire season. We should have lost our home in the 2018 Woolsey fire. I will never understand why we didn’t. After the fire, when I stood in my front yard, I could see six houses, some next door, some across the street, that had burned to the ground.

That fire was the first time in 32 years and multiple fires that we actually evacuated. Before that, we had packed many times, but we never actually evacuated. But in 2018, when it became hard to breathe from the smoke, we did leave. The evacuation experience was one of the most frightening experiences of my life. All of the traffic lights were out, and there were zero law enforcement officials guiding traffic. A 20-mile drive took almost six hours, most of it with the fire looming to our left. We were ready to leave our vehicle and run to the ocean. We made it to Santa Monica, but  . . . damn. It was rough.

On Thursday night last week, a new fire popped up that quickly spread from 50 acres to 1,000. In no time at all, ashes from the Kenneth Fire were falling in our neighborhood. When I looked at the Watch Duty app that all of us have, I could see the fire, about 10 miles away, and I could see that 30 mph winds were blowing it right towards our neighborhood. If it crossed the 101 freeway like the Woolsey Fire did back in 2018, there would probably be no stopping it.

We had been packed for days, so we loaded up our vehicle and were ready to go. After all the packing was done, I sat down in a chair in our living room and I just tried to take in everything about our house. We have lived in this wonderful home since 2002. We took the house down to the studs in a major renovation project in 2002, and we planned almost every detail in every space in the house. We have taken on several small improvements since then. Ryan lived here from the time he was 12 until he graduated from high school, and Dawson has spent his entire life here. So many memories.

I wondered how accepting I would be of the loss, were it to happen. I know a few things from talking with friends who have lost all of their possessions in fires. You never stop missing the house and the all the big items and small keepsakes that you could not take with you. A good friend who lost his house said that he often would remember an item, and wonder where he could find it, then realized that of course, it was gone. But I have also heard so many stories of life after the fire, whether people rebuild or move, and I know that life will be good again. But there is a lot of pain to get through first. So I would hate to lose it, but as I sat there saying good bye, I felt in my heart I would be OK however it turned out.

But losing the house did not come to pass this time. Air tankers and helicopters doused the fire with force, and forward progress was stopped. I am so grateful.

The news and social media are full of people looking for people to blame. I know that it’s what wins elections, but it is so counterproductive. We need solutions, not blame.

Here are a few truths that I believe:

• Firefighters, both professional and volunteer, are absolute heroes.
• The number of people responding to the Palisades Fire was mind-numbing. Zuma Beach is five minutes from my house. Zuma is almost two miles of wide beaches, just like the ones everyone sees on TV. It is a huge state park visited by millions every year, sometimes receiving 100,000 visitors a day during the summer. Throughout the entire fire, the massive parking lot was full of emergency vehicles from across Southern California, Utah, Nevada, Oregon and of course, Cal Fire. The logistics of taking care of more than 4,000 emergency workers is mind-bending, but it happened.
• It would take gazillions of dollars to upgrade the entire electrical system and put it all underground. Money well spent, but I don’t know who has the pockets and stomach to do it. Because it’s not just a Southern California problem. Oregon, Colorado, and many other states have utilities vulnerable to fire. New and improved infrastructure would save lives in all of those states, and it would save lives and property in flood/tornado/hurricane zones too.
• The fire season is longer than it used to be. I’ve only been here 30 years, but fire season used to be late September to mid-December. Now, it’s longer, and the windstorms are more frequent.
• The winds are worse than they used to be, and the winds in this storm were unprecedented. Two straight days of 40-50 mph winds, with gusts above 100 mph. The warning we all received via text the day before the winds started: “There is an expected destructive, widespread, and potentially life-threatening windstorm starting Tuesday morning through Wednesday afternoon in the City of Los Angeles. Wind gusts are expected to be 50-80 mph and reach 80-100 mph in certain areas. Red flag fire weather conditions will likely continue until Friday.” In that kind of weather,once a fire starts, there is no stopping that fire until it runs out of fuel.
• There is going to be a lot of frustration and headache in the years to come. Insurance is going to be a mess. The permit approval process is going to be an overwhelming bureaucratic task. Finding contractors and construction workers to do all of this work is going to be virtually impossible. A very conservative friend of mine who voted for the incoming president said, “Maybe we should wait on these deportations until this construction work is done.” There you go.
• The most unacceptable result of these fires is loss of life. The final numbers are not known yet, but as of January 17, there were 27 deaths and 18 remain missing.

I’ve written many times about how much I love my neighborhood and the amazing people in it. We have a neighborhood volunteer fire brigade that is highly trained and ready. Some of them, including my friend Emmet, ended up fighting fires far away from our neighborhood, saving homes of people they don’t even know. Emmet is the volunteer who helped to save my house back in 2018. I will be forever grateful. I live amongst courageous and amazing people.

During this fire, our neighborhood lost electrical service, gas service, and Internet for almost 10 days. We would go out into the street to try to glean a little cell service and get updates from each other. The conversations that happened out there were wonderful. There were gatherings and shared meals – some organized, some not – where we shared information and tried to confirm rumors. Many people left to stay with relatives or friends outside the danger zone, and we were all watching out for their houses. At the end of it all, I feel closer to my neighbors and more appreciative than ever of the neighborhood where I live.

Finally, Jill and I have been overwhelmed by the love and support from our family and friends. People were mad at me on Facebook because I was not giving an update on our safety. I had to learn how to do that. Once I did, I was quickly forgiven and supported. I appreciated all of the texts and emails, and tried to respond to all of them when I had service.

As I finish writing this post, the winds are down, the sky is cloudless and blue, and it’s 70 degrees on a mid-January day. It’s why we all stay here.

But I know that incredible destruction is beyond what I can see.

Unlike the fires in 2018, I can’t see the devastation from these fires when I stand in my front yard. I have not seen any of it first-hand yet, but I will. I already know that it will take my breath away when I drive down PCH, or when I drive through Pacific Palisades, and I first witness the remnants of houses and businesses that burned to the ground. But even without seeing it, my heart goes out to all of those who have experienced loss, several of whom are readers of this blog. I’m so sorry. Those blank spaces left by the fire were homes to millions of memories and loving moments.

It will take time, but we will rebuild. Again. We will do it together. Again. And I will be on the side of people seeking support for the victims and solutions for the future.

Post #125 on www.drmdmatthews.com

If you’re not on the mailing list, you’re missing out. Not only will I let you know when my blog posts come out, but you will get my once-a-month-subscribers-only message.  I share what I’m cooking, what I’m watching, what I’m reading, and other news that had a profound impact on me. If you’re interested, please click here.

NOTES

I add these notes sections for a number of reasons:

• First and foremost, many of you are crazy enough to read them.
• My posts are long enough, so believe it or not, I do try to limit them. Ideas that don’t make the cut can end up in the notes section.
• I include additional resources, links, stories, for those of you who want to go a little deeper.
• I may include something from the comments made in my last post, or something I learned in the process of writing this one.
• And remember, the posts are long enough – no one is making you read the notes. (Dad – If you are going to critique me for how long my posts are, please stop reading now. This is the optional part!)
• Pictures of the fire are from Emmet Pierson. Amazing. Thanks for sharing, Emmet.
• Pictures of smoky sunrise and sunset are mine. Pollution and smoke make for stunningly beautiful beginnings and ends to each day. Not worth it.
• My friend Chris, a real writer, posted a spectacular piece of writing about these fires just this morning. It’s well worth the read.
• As I scrolled through Facebook this morning, I saw a post from my friend Bill, a wonderful teacher and musician, that reinforced my thoughts about losing homes and stuff. I thought it was great.
  • Having been through the Woolsey Fire six years ago, I have let go of my teddy bear that was 70 years old, in a drawer I forgot to check. The kids movies we forgot to pack. Miles of Ampex tape full of decades of music. The this and the that . . . gone. You have to finally come to terms with the permanence. All that you lost is still stored in your brain’s master filing cabinet. You can visit occasionally . . . just like you visit loved ones you lost. You’ll be OK.
• If you don’t know where to donate, please consider the Boys and Girls Club of Malibu. They are connected to the Malibu community and they know where the true needs are.