I do not want to face this. Thank you for reading what I write now that makes me face this.
Background: Several months after the wildfires on November 8th on the West Side of Altadena, where I live, I’d suited up in a Tyvek suit, as did a brave friend. We packed nine carpenter bags of my belongings, and schlepped them to the dumpster.. My bed, loveseat, and desk were also tossed.
A kind Christian Disaster Relief group cleaned my apartment. The women wore pioneer-style dresses. They and their husbands scrubbed walls and floors. As they left, they let me pick out a hand-made quilt. I’d show photos I took of them, but later learned they don’t like their photos taken, but were too polite to tell me.
After moving back at the end of May, 2025, I’ve worried, but denied the creepiness that toxins might be swirling in the studio I share with my adorable 20-pound Maltese-Mix Rumi. I especially get concerned about Rumi, who found a retreat under my bed which is under the air conditioner, which was never fully remediated, but which I, after months using fans, use to tolerate the heat.
It was the tenth anniversary on November 7 of the fires in both Altadena and the Pacific Palisades. An organization called Eaton Fire Residents United (EFRU) held a press conference that Rumi and I attended. They revealed the results of dangerous toxins in 50 remediated homes.
Afterwards, I wrote a poem about the press conference that was first published on Medium.com, and a version shared on Substack, which I will link here: There was a feeling of indescribable unity at that gathering.
On the positive side, there have been so generous, kind initiatives that have sprung up, and organizations and people that have given donations. The heart below was given to me by a group of mostly volunteers at “A Sense of Home,” an organization that typically gives foster kids aging out of the system everything they need for their new apartments. They added wildfire survivors to their people to gift.
They invited me to their warehouse, where they had set up a desk, kitchen table, round small table, mosaic Lazy Susan, carpet, dishes, and more, for me to take home. But the best was when they gave me this big heart, told me a word each had picked out for me, signed their names (on the back), and snuck into my bags the loving notes you see on this photo. Then they huddled into a football formation, rose, and cheered: “Claudia!”
Loving messages and heart from “A Sense of Home.” Quilt, a home-made gift from Christian Disaster Relief.”
At Ten Month Anniversary of So Cal Fires, Residents Learn Homes Likely Toxic: A Poem: Inspired by the Press Conference November 7.
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