I smell like thick, soupy, toxic smoke.
I can’t get it out of my nose,
It’s seeped into my skin,
I have a headache,
The smell makes me sick.
Sienna’s throat is hurting, so is mine.
Everything I own smells like smoke,
I can’t escape it.
49 hours ago there was a windstorm.
I haven’t seen anything close to that since I was 11 and had to evacuate my home.
The fire came within two blocks of burning it down.
But this was worse,
Much, much worse.
100 foot Eucalyptus trees falling down,
Bringing down power lines,
Trees and debris littered all over the streets.
Then we hear a fire started. Evacuation warnings.
Justin’s brother Galvin gets a mandatory evacuation.
But not his parents?
They are only one block away.
We keep watching,
When will it come in?
I tell them they can all come to our place.
Our friend Nena evacuated and comes over.
Galvin’s and his wife and 3 cats and an overnight bag evacuate to his parents.
But it isn’t long that we get the message they are coming here.
Galvin arrives at 11pm but not his parents.
He thought they were behind him.
We wait and wait.
We call and text but they don’t have service.
He goes back to get them but can’t get in.
We find out later that they went to see where the fire was and thought they’d be ok.
They were back asleep.
12, 1, 2 am, I can’t sleep.
I keep checking if there is an evacuation order.
Still nothing.
So worried about them.
2:30 I get a text from Justin’s dad. It’s just reads “By.”
My heart is pounding, I jump up, go into the living room,
They are in my house.
So relieved.
He must have meant he’s “coming by.”
Man of few words.
I can finally sleep.
But I can’t.
They tell me they never got the order, No one came to tell them to leave.
The woke up to thick smoke and embers flying over their roof.
The street was already on fire.
They could barely see.
They left with the flames licking their heels.
I drift in and out waking to check the evacuation orders.
Are they accurate? Are we ok?
4:30 am I’m up again.
Scouring social media, info, clues, updates, how are my friends?
7am I give up that I’ll go back to sleep, I’m up. Coffee. (I had quit)
The air is thick, orange and raining ash.
Justin’s parents leave to see if they can get to their home, is it ok?
The neighbors say it’s gone.
Flammable debris is blown all over my property,
Everything is so dry,
We are in a tinderbox.
I put on long clothes, a mask, goggles.
My sister works on removing flammable materials.
I soak the yard, the roof, everything.
It takes me all day.
My back hurts, my hands hurt, my throat hurts,
I’m so hungry but I can’t stop.
My daughter Sienna is inside,
She’s scared, confused, overwhelmed, excited,
She’s “scribble.”
She wants to help but I can’t let her.
I don’t want her breathing the air.
Justin’s parents return,
It’s gone, all of it.
Their whole life was invested in the Concha St house.
No more swim days in the summer,
Birthday party’s, family dinners, holidays,
Everything happened there.
It was the family hub that tied us together.
Galvin’s place is gone.
Justin’s sister’s workplace is gone,
No more job.
They are in shock.
Zombies with fits of crying.
Disbelief.
I hug them.
But I can’t stop,
I can’t let that happen here.
They can’t evacuate again.
We all would have no where to go.
We have 5 people who fled here.
Make shift rooms, camped out. Everyone everywhere.
5 dogs, 3 cats, 2 birds and a hibernating tortoise.
Texts, social media post, start coming in from friends.
Their homes are gone too,
Everything is gone.
So many people,
Our whole community.
Matt, Lauren, Tsune, Liana, Elizabeth, Pema, Liz, another Liz, Christina, Elisa, Chris, Julia, Alan, Amir, Heather, Michelle, Marylin, Meghan, Ellen,
So many, I know I’m missing people,
Add your name.
More friends evacuating.
I need to get Sienna out of here.
So hungry, so tired, so sore, but pack her stuff.
She doesn’t want to go,
She’s worried about her home she loves.
Lots of questions, crying.
7pm I finally get her in the car,
All her stuff, family photos, the dogs, the bird, the tortoise,
they can’t breathe this air either.
I start driving, freeway.
Another fire, it’s small,
Call 911.
Sienna yells, “we are in the red zone,” and puts on her mask.
She’s quiet for most of the hour drive after that.
Little bouts of sobbing.
We arrive, so happy to be in fresh air but all I can smell is the smoke that’s seeped into me.
So happy to see my mom.
Unload everything,
Set up pets,
Set up Sienna’s stuff,
Drink some water,
I barely had any all day.
Sienna doesn’t want me to go.
We’ve never been apart overnight before.
I can’t stay.
If we have to evacuate I still need to get my stuff together.
Computer, documents, camera, hard drives, my life’s work.
Fuck, I didn’t finish packing clothes, I will need clothes.
I need to grab that Waldorf doll I made her, it’s so special.
Waldorf is gone, that was my childhood.
I finally calm her,
I ask her to look after the pets for me, they need her.
She’s asleep.
9pm I head back
10pm I get my sister
I need to go see how close the fire is to me.
I don’t trust the evacuation orders now.
4 miles from my house we find fire,
A house is smoldering.
Next to it is homes with people in it, making dinner,
Electricity on,
A couple out for a walk,
No mask,
What is happening?!
We drive further
The smoke thickens and swirls around us.
No more electricity, so dark, so quiet, so eerie.
A teenage boy skates in the middle of the street,
He doesn’t even look at me, dazed.
Fallen trees, downed power lines, burning homes, open gas lines unattended and burning.
They make a whooshing sound,
It frightens me.
We want to check on our old neighbors house,
An 85 year old woman who evacuated.
It stand, IT STANDS!
Oh wait the last house on her street is on fire.
Please let her house survive.
Over at the burning house,
Is that… a looter?…
No cell service,
Drive to find a cop, report it.
He’s already investigating another looting.
Try to make it to see family friends who refused to evacuate.
We can’t understand why.
Police blocking most main streets, but I get around.
On the way a house burns,
No fire fighters in sight.
It could spread.
Find another officer to report the fire, he said they had just been there,
It must have re-ignited.
Fire fighters playing whack-a-mole.
He won’t let us through.
We tell him about our friends,
Beg him to convince our friends to leave if the burning house spreads.
It’s pretty close to them.
11:30pm my head is spinning,
so tired.
I don’t think the fire will reach us tonight,
No wind.
Go home, maybe I can sleep.
1:30am finally going to sleep.
4am up again,
No sleep, check where the fire is,
Did it move?
I’m ok still, ok please sleep.
7am sleep, 10am wake.
My head hurts so bad.
I’m being smothered in smoke.
I want to leave.
I don’t think we are at risk anymore,
but Justin has to stay.
He works for the city.
I can’t leave him in this smoke.
He leaves to meet the congressman, mayor, and city councilmen.
They are assessing damage, next moves, etc.
I go to work saran wrapping and taping all the windows in the house.
It’s working,
The air is starting to smell clean,
My headache is less severe.
So hungry but can’t stop,
I have to get this done and go to Sienna.
I promised her.
She can’t do another night without me.
Taking me all day.
The house is a disaster,
Ash everywhere.
Nena and the family help clean up.
I finally pack my things.
Help Justin’s parents with some steps for their insurance company.
Justin’s mother on the phone with FEMA, 1.5 hours.
Trying to help people who want to donate money.
Justin’s parents don’t want to ask but they know insurance won’t cover everything.
Justin’s mom cries frequently throughout the evening.
She’s devastated.
10pm Justin packs the car with my stuff.
11pm I arrive at my mom’s.
Park the car, sit there, I sob,
First time I get to cry.
*
Many of you have heard of the devastating fires in Pasadena and Altadena that have destroyed so many homes and local businesses and have taken lives in these past few days. Pasadena is a touchstone city for Culture Honey that many of our writers, contributors, and readers hail from and several of our writers have completely lost their homes and everything that they own as a result of these fires. If you are one of our dear readers who have lost their homes as well, our hearts break for you. We want to be there for you in any way we can.
In times like these of hardship and devastation, it is truly the strength of the community that can help those in need to rise from the ashes. Thus we at Culture Honey would like to encourage our dedicated readers to help the writers who have brought so much joy and insight over the years. Every donation will go toward helping these writers cover immediate expenses such as food, clothing and shelter as they work to recover from this tragedy. We thank you for your empathy and generosity and are truly thankful to have you all as part of our Culture Honey community.
Mercedes Blackehart attended LA County High School for the Arts in the visual arts department as well as the ArtCenter College of Design. Within the film world she has done it all from videography, editing, and website design to graphic design and photography. Mercedes has worked on commercials as a production designer and set decorator as well as working as a buyer on streaming shows for several studios. Her photography has been nominated for a Pulitzer prize.
Mercedes, her husband Justin and their young daughter lost their home in Altadena. You can read a story from Justin as well on their experience of the fire in this week’s edition here. The family in total lost two homes, two cars, and most everything else. Donations to help the family get back on their feet can be made here.
