There are many questions surrounding the wildfires that are still spreading across Los Angeles, destroying entire neighborhoods with unimaginable speed and ferocity. What started the fires? Could we have avoided the carnage we have witnessed so far? Will we ever trust the evacuation notification system again, with all its false alarms, non-alarms, and phone-to-phone inconsistencies?
But we – the residents of the city and county of LA – were asked one question above all else: “Are you OK?”
I've received dozens of inquiries since the flames engulfed the Pacific Palisades and Altadena, and they continue to pop up all over the map. The notes come from friends and family, of course, but also from casual acquaintances, distant work contacts and people I've never met. They have checked in via text, email, IM, chat and every other way imaginable since the disaster made national and global headlines.
How are you doing? I watch the news about the fires in LA
— WhatsApp message
The Angelenos I spoke with also receive a variety of check-ins. The majority are grateful for the request, but a few others find the number of requests overwhelming. I belong to the first group.
I've never been so grateful to receive so many unwanted messages, and that's saying a lot, because the ability to quickly delete messages is a culmination of my decades-long career as a journalist.
Receiving requests like this means we are fortunate to have people in our lives or near us who care about us, like a dear old friend from South Carolina who texted usAre you okay and not in the area where this is happening? A journalist in Turkey who I haven't had contact with for years and who contacted me via WhatsApp: How are you doing? I'm watching the news about the fires in LA and I'm worried about you. I hope everything is okay.
And an East Coaster I worked with but never met in person who emailed me: Hey, I'm thinking of you and your family as these fires rage. I hope you are well and staying safe.
I haven't replied to everyone yet, but I will. They need to know that we are safe and that our home is still standing.
But to say that we are fine is not entirely the truth. We are exhausted, stunned and most of all we mourn the destruction around us. We live on the edge of the Eaton fire zone and it was terrifying. Deafening, violent gusts of wind felt like they were ripping our roof off. Dark clouds of smoke enveloped our neighborhood. The eerie glow of flames climbing several hills opposite our house.
Conflicting evacuation alerts, none of which were coordinated across the three phones in our household (or the dozens on our block), added confusion to the panic. We received several different messages at different times, from evacuation warnings to “Leave now!” orders, each accompanied by this brain-piercing alarm. Then came the West Hills fire (dubbed the Kenneth Fire) with an equally unclear evacuation warning/order for our elderly parents. The terror intensified. Where do you go when everyone's home is in danger?
George Cunningham walks through the rubble of his Altadena home Wednesday after it was destroyed in the Eaton fire.
(Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)
As for the “Are you okay?” News, there are Angelenos who find the numerous requests annoying, like those relentless text chains that feed off every communal event: a death, a loud neighborhood party, the disappointment of “Squid Game Season 2.”
I understand it. There is a lot to process and cope with right now, especially for those who have lost their homes or loved ones and for communities facing new fire threats. An answer that goes beyond “yes” or “no” requires consideration that many of us are not yet ready to consider. “Answering all the messages is like an obligation, and I just can’t do that right now,” a New York transplant living on the West Side told me. “And I get more out of it now than I did when the fire was raging.”
Another L.A. resident said he felt like the concern was largely superficial and, worse, a disingenuous attempt by people who had singled her out to “worm their way back into her life.” I know it's hard, but try to reserve judgment. We all have different ways of coping and most of us are beyond exhausted.
Something as simple as making coffee requires five times more energy and focus when moving from disaster survival mode to post-disaster reality. At home, we still have pieces of clothing scattered around the bedroom from packing and unpacking the “go bags.” Our post office hasn't been opened since Tuesday. The Christmas tree is still standing.
Homes destroyed by the Palisades Fire smolder along the Pacific Coast Highway in Malibu.
(Wally Skalij/Los Angeles Times)
Terror demands a lot from us, and we are only just beginning to deal with the consequences. Survivors search through the rubble of their homes, from smoldering apartments and bungalows on Lake Avenue to luxury properties around Sunset Boulevard and Pacific Coast Highway.
Those of us who weren't directly hit but were close enough to evacuate are still grappling with acrid, thick air and charred chunks of rubble on our doorstep. And it feels wrong that some of the aftermath is deceptively beautiful, like the delicate swirls of white ash that collect like fresh snow on the window sills.
For me, the requests from concerned people were a bright spot in the warnings about “unhealthy” air quality. A native Angeleno from Highland Park told me she was inspired by the national and global response to the LA fires.
“The world is watching and compassionate. It's so hard to get anyone to agree on anything right now, but this situation has eliminated a lot of that division. I’m really touched by the response.”
Ditto. I'm grateful for all the checking in and concern. I don't care how cheesy or naive that may sound. When the world around you is on fire, the simple act of connection matters.
Are we okay? Somehow. But we're definitely better off knowing that people out there care about us. Thank you very much.