Los Angeles is never quiet. The county has about 10 million people. Less than half of them speak English at home. There are so many races and religions that not everyone sleeps in on the same holidays. We have 80 school districts, accommodating everything from Jewish High Holy Days to Asian Lunar New Year.
LA County was designed to include many mini-cities, connected by the Pacific Red Car. But since car and oil companies have spent over a century working against public transportation, we’re now mainly connected by freeways. The LA-centric Valentine’s Day card reads: “I love you so much I’d take the 134 to the 101 to the 405 to the 10 for you.* (*Excluding rush hour.)”
The immensity of Los Angeles is hard to explain to non-residents. Until you’ve spent 20 minutes descending over the lights before a night landing at LAX, you probably can’t fully comprehend that LA County is geographically larger than Delaware and Rhode Island combined, and just a little smaller than Connecticut. It has more people than 40 states in the U.S.
Even during the early days of COVID, LA wasn’t quiet. In fact, I ran into more folks than usual when walking my dog early in the morning.
Which made last week eerie.
Los Angeles was quiet. There were mornings where Tankie and I saw no one as we walked through our neighborhood.
All we saw were red skies. Falling ash. And smoke.
And yes, of course I was wearing a KN95.
The air quality improved dramatically over the weekend in our area. Sunday morning I woke up to a “good” air quality rating, with minimal particulates.
The sun was shining, the sky was blue. From our hillside in southwestern Los Angeles county, I couldn’t see any smoke.
And yet it was still so, so quiet.
Because everything was canceled. And no, not in the way the MAGA meatheads scream about, which is actually consequences for celebrities being misogynistic, racist, or transphobic.
Local events were canceled. All youth sports were canceled. Grammy events were canceled. Premieres were canceled. The announcement of Oscar nominations was postponed.
Everyone stayed home—unless they were a first responder (including incarcerated firefighters, who you can support here), an animal rescuer, a reporter, or an asshole content creator flying drones into Quebec water bombers.
We spent the week glued to the news, social media, and the literally life-saving new app called Watch Duty, sifting through an INSANE amount of disinformation lies as we tried to figure out what was happening.
And then figured out how we could help.
While also answering calls and texts from every single out-of-state friend and family member who couldn’t remember our address or use Google maps to discern how far away we were from the fires.
I have an enormous family. They are also a very smart family. And yet most of them still checked, individually, to make sure I was nowhere near the fires. It was an absolutely heart-warming pain in the ass.
As I explained to them, I am okay. Physically. Mentally, like every other Angeleno, I am a mess. I am one “Their dog survived the fire!” reel away from tears at all times. I am also one fucking MAGA misinformation meme about how the Black woman mayor of Los Angeles CITY (not the county) is somehow personally responsible for draining the reservoirs of all the surrounding cities from throwing my phone at any house flying a Trump flag.
I am constantly, easily distracted. I started this post 6 days ago. I lost the original draft because I hadn’t saved it when it was “Document 1” and my computer updated overnight. Since then, I’ve managed maybe a paragraph a day.
Like everyone else in SoCal, I deal with a lot of ash. While the air quality has improved, the dirt blown by the initial winds and subsequent fires’ ashfall will continue to cover our streets and sidewalks until it rains. If it rains.
Right now, it looks like even our normally rainy February might be dry.
But thanks to fire crews and trucks from all over California, Oregon, and Utah, the Palisades and Eaton fires are gradually being contained. New fires have been put out. Help and support have come from all over the world.
Thanks for making me cry some more, all you kindhearted jerks.
Seriously, though, I appreciate all those who cared, worried, and donated. Which is pretty much everyone except Donald Dickhead Trump and the Californian Republicans who ditched their burning state to go kiss his ass at Mar-a-Lago.
Oh, and billionaire Elon Musk? Keep your incredibly generous donation of 3 rust-prone, rolling dumpsters cybertrucks—supposedly earmarked for one sheriff’s station that lost power.
Teamsters and locals are handling these issues much faster.
For those wanting to help, the best way is to donate to the organizations doing good work on the ground here: World Kitchen, the California Wildfire & Disaster Relief Fund, the Pasadena Humane Society, and the Sante D’ Oro Rescue Group.
Here are two of my favorite nonprofit groups that are rescuing and moving animals from LA to help our local shelters make more room: Best Friends, Dogwood Animal Rescue.
Other ways you can help? Stand up for legislators who stand up against fossil fuels.
Clap back against disinformation.
And never stop caring.
