On January 6, my grandmother marked her 100th birthday,a remarkable milestone for a woman who,during the Covid pandemic,once quipped,“What’s the fuss about vaccines? We all got them in the ’30s to fight typhoid.”
Family members traveled from near and far—from Las vegas to North Carolina—to join the celebration at our home in Altadena, California. Nestled at the base of the San Gabriel Mountains, Altadena is a vibrant, eclectic community. It’s the kind of place where walking a small dog like a Yorkie at night feels risky, as coyotes might see it as “a light snack,” as I often joked with my girlfriend.
Given Altadena’s history as part of the Mexican land grant Rancho San Pascual, hosting a taquiza—a backyard taco feast with a professional taco chef—felt fitting. As I unloaded party supplies from Smart & Final, my neighbor James, a cheerful 62-year-old known as “the mayor” of our block, waved me over. James lives in the oldest Black-owned home in the area and is always the first to no about anything happening on our street, including my grandmother’s birthday bash.
“Cherish her,” James said.“I wish my mom were still here.” His mother, who passed away last year, had purchased their home in 1972, nurtured it, and passed it down to him. Families like hers have built lasting legacies in Altadena.
On January 7, I drove my mom and grandmother to the airport. My now-centenarian grandma was thrilled about her next celebration, this time in Ecuador, her birthplace. Despite warnings from the National Weather Service about dangerous winds, she brushed them off, saying she’d faced worse in her lifetime. Still, the howling winds made our house feel like Dorothy’s Kansas farmhouse, teetering on the edge of being swept away.
after dropping them off at LAX around 6 p.m., my grandmother blessed me with the sign of the cross before heading inside. moments later, I got a call from Liesel, my longtime mentor and a professor at Pasadena City College.“Stay out,” she urged. “I’m leaving with the kids now.” I immediately called her husband, Steve, another mentor who taught me the art of writing. Steve was in the process of saying goodbye to their belongings. Their 1912 Altadena home, once an orphanage, had become a sanctuary for students like me—those who felt lost or abandoned. Over the years, they had opened their doors to countless young people, offering them a place to heal and grow.
“Cherish her,” James told me. “I wish my mom was still here.”
liesel and steve were more than mentors; they were collectors of art,fine furniture,and rare comic books. Steve, a multiple Will Eisner Award-nominated writer, had amassed one of the most impressive comic collections I’d ever seen. Their home was a testament to their generosity and love for nurturing others, a legacy that will endure long after the winds have settled.
Surviving the Inferno: A Community’s Fight Against the Altadena Wildfires
On a fateful morning in January, the skies over Altadena turned an ominous shade of black as wildfires ravaged the community. What began as a routine day quickly spiraled into chaos, with residents forced to flee their homes, leaving behind everything they held dear. For manny, the fires were not just a natural disaster but a battle for survival, a fight to protect the dreams and memories tied to their homes.
As I navigated the smoke-filled streets, the air thick with ash and embers, I found myself rerouting repeatedly to avoid roadblocks and flames. The scene was surreal—burned-out cars, charred palm bark scattered across lawns, and the constant hum of emergency sirens. Despite the devastation, there was a glimmer of hope as I arrived at my house, still standing amidst the chaos. inside, it was pitch black, even at 9 a.m., and I relied on my phone’s flashlight to gather essential documents—my passport, proof of homeownership, and my laptop. These items represented more than just possessions; they were the culmination of an immigrant child’s dreams.
“The question was not why someone would sacrifice their life to fight the fire. The question was how could they not?”
As I sped away, my inbox flooded with messages from friends who had lost everything. Six close friends saw their homes reduced to ashes,while three others lost entire blocks. The emotional toll was immeasurable,but the resilience of the community shone through. Neighbors banded together,offering shelter,supplies,and support to those in need.
By January 9, the fires showed no signs of abating, with zero containment reported. The news of an Altadena man who perished while trying to save his home with a garden hose was particularly heartbreaking. For many in this working-class town, their homes were their only financial security. As one resident poignantly put it, “The question was not why someone would sacrifice their life to fight the fire. The question was how could they not?”
Returning to my neighborhood, I was met with a grim reality. The National Guard had cordoned off the area, allowing only residents with proof of residency to enter. After presenting my driver’s license, I hiked half a mile to my street, where my home still stood. The relief was fleeting, as I soon discovered that a quarter-mile north, an entire block had been obliterated.The air was thick with ash, a somber reminder of the destruction.
I found james, a longtime resident and unofficial “mayor” of our block, standing guard in front of his home. He had spent 48 harrowing hours in his basement, followed by nights sleeping in his car, revolver in hand, ready to defend his property.His home, passed down through generations, was more than just a house—it was his legacy.”This is my generational wealth,” he said.”I’m not letting it go without a fight.”
Further up the street, I visited Liesel and steve, whose home was barely standing. Electrical poles leaned precariously, and the air was heavy with the scent of smoke.despite the devastation, their spirits remained unbroken. “We’ll rebuild,” Liesel said, her voice steady. “This is our home, and we’re not giving up.”
The Altadena wildfires were a stark reminder of the fragility of life and the strength of community. In the face of unimaginable loss,neighbors came together,proving that even in the darkest times,hope and resilience can prevail.
Rebuilding After Loss: A Story of Resilience and Community
Standing amidst the charred remains of what was once a cherished home,the weight of the moment hit me like a tidal wave. I had managed to stay composed while speaking to friends and neighbors, even during a FaceTime call with my mom and 100-year-old grandmother, careful not to upset her. But here, in the ashes of Liesel and Steve’s house, I finally broke down.
This wasn’t just any house. It was where I discovered my passion for writing and launched my first business. When I bought my own home, I chose to live right next door. Now, it was gone—a devastating loss that came just five years after Liesel and Steve had joyfully adopted two brilliant Mexican-American children.
Seeing so many Angelenos showing up to volunteer has been the first step to rebuilding—a necessary rebuilding of the spirit.
In the aftermath, I’ve gained a crash course in disaster recovery. I now understand the intricacies of FEMA, the SBA, and navigating home insurance claims. I’ve learned about disaster centers, the ugly reality of price gouging, and the importance of half-face respirators.More than anything, I’ve come to understand loss and the heavy burden of survivor’s remorse.
Yet, this tragedy has also revealed the strength of our community. angelenos have shown up in droves to volunteer, donate to strangers through mutual aid websites, and express their love for our diverse, working-class town. This outpouring of support marks the first step toward rebuilding—not just structures,but the spirit of our community.
Houses may have been reduced to rubble, but the sense of home endures.businesses may be gone, but the communities they nurtured remain unshaken. Altadena will rise again, both physically and emotionally. as our mayor,who tirelessly protects our block while the National Guard secures the area,reminded me: “All we have is each other.”
How did the fires impact the sense of community in Altadena?
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James’s determination was emblematic of the spirit that defined Altadena. Despite the devastation, the community’s resilience and unity were palpable. Neighbors shared stories of loss and survival, offering comfort and strength to one another.The fires had taken much, but they could not extinguish the bonds that held this community together.
As the days passed, the focus shifted from immediate survival to rebuilding.Fundraisers were organized, and volunteers poured in from neighboring towns to help clear debris and provide supplies. The road to recovery would be long, but the people of Altadena were determined to rise from the ashes.
For me, the experience was a stark reminder of the fragility of life and the importance of community.The fires had tested our resolve,but they had also revealed the depth of our connections and the strength of our collective spirit. As I looked around at the charred remains of what once was, I knew that Altadena would rebuild, not just its homes, but its heart.
“This is my generational wealth,” James said.”I’m not letting it go without a fight.”
In the aftermath of the inferno, the people of Altadena stood together, united by their shared loss and their unwavering hope for the future. The fires had left scars, but they had also forged a renewed sense of purpose and solidarity. As the community began to heal, it was clear that the spirit of Altadena would endure, stronger than ever.
