Thoughtful as always. Thank you for updating us and talking through this.
I changed how I thought about irreplaceable objects after a wildfire destroyed a family member’s home with all sorts of artwork, family antiques, etc.
Every time I visit family in CA I take photographs of things: my grandmother’s paintings, my mother’s framed photography, old letters, the family silver no one uses. I assume it could all vanish at any time. I assume the photographs that document their existence is all I will have in the future. I don’t know if that will be enough—or if it’s a useless gesture.
When my aunt lost everything in a wildfire, I sent her all my digital photos of her place. I promised to have them printed up in a book—to make them material in some way. A few years later she has moved on—I need to ask her if she still wants it.
The imagery of the remaining chimneys and washing machines has stuck with me since listening to this. Your insight into letting too much stuff into your home, overcrowding the truly valuable things, is poignant. Thank you for sharing.
This is the hardest part of any disaster, be it fire, flood, earthquake, or whatever - not the loss of "things" that can be tallied-up on an insurance company claim-form, but the loss of the "irreplacables" we all accumulate over a lifetime that remind us who we are, and where we've come from. The grief is real, so once the basic necessities like shelter, food, medicines, and insurance paperwork are taken-care of, don't neglect to let yourself grieve.
I liked your thoughts at the end about what you would like to see from everyone moving forward and your aspirations for change in the future. Expanding on these as you rebuild will be very interesting to read.
Thank you for your newfound insights parsing the real value of “stuff,” under such horrific circumstances. Your dispatches have me taking stock of what split-second decisions I would have made in your situation (only to be haunted by them after the fact). So glad your pointy shoes and handmade handbag made it out with you. Impractical, perhaps, but well worth it for the comfort they bring you now. And yes, keep us posted on a GoFundMe …
Thank you for the dispatch, Meghan of the pointy shoes. Such an important reminder about the world of things. I’m looking around my home with new eyes. I’m sorry about your lost painting. And your oboe ❤️
Altadena is where my daughter’s friends could find relative affordability in a lovely community and still teach at Harvard Westlake, open a bakery in Atwater Village, work as a realtor in Glassel Park or in a gallery on Western. This tragedy for so very many people, the established middle class black community, those with small children starting their family lives or merely finding a relatively affordable home is a city and the elderly population there forever is a tragedy we all will not get over in any future that I will see. I am so sorry.
I’ve been a fickle subscriber over the years. Just subscribed for the year again as these dispatches have been a reminder of why I first loved your writing. We’ve lived through a few destructive hurricanes and I’ve learned the way of having a go bag (mine includes things that are also well loved items). Thanks for sharing these. They’re unique and show a fuller version of your experiences in California.
I don't know if it will make you feel any better, but my good friends - one an artist - who lost their house in Santa Cruz to fire thought and did the same thing. That is, they thought it was a precaution and didn't take much with them. They took none of her art.
I'm sorry for your losses. Particularly of your art - that piece! - and the books. I am happy you have the pointed shoes and the bag . (Fire material to me...)
As Leslie and I were listening and you mentioned the intact fireplaces, we both realized that there was a disaster formula. Fire = house burned, chimney in tact. Earthquake = chimney gone, wood frame house in tact. Glad it was the earthquake that hit us - easy to rebuild the chimney.
Meghan, thank you for this thoughtful, ground-zero point of view, which is largely missing from everything I've heard about the fires so far. I look forward to future dispatches, and I am sorry to see/listen to what you and many Angelenos are going through right now.
Thank you for another glimpse into your thoughts amidst this catastrophe affecting your life. It’s so true that we tend to hang on to so much stuff that’s “material”, yet immaterial to our life. In a situation like your evacuation, I fear I too would be paralyzed when I should act to separate the wheat from the chaff. We emotionally attach ourselves to things that are not objectively valuable, but to us they are. When I moved house, the hardest decision was which books to give away. Yes, a lot of things can be replaced, but they don’t feel the same. Something of us is lost.
Thoughtful as always. Thank you for updating us and talking through this.
I changed how I thought about irreplaceable objects after a wildfire destroyed a family member’s home with all sorts of artwork, family antiques, etc.
Every time I visit family in CA I take photographs of things: my grandmother’s paintings, my mother’s framed photography, old letters, the family silver no one uses. I assume it could all vanish at any time. I assume the photographs that document their existence is all I will have in the future. I don’t know if that will be enough—or if it’s a useless gesture.
When my aunt lost everything in a wildfire, I sent her all my digital photos of her place. I promised to have them printed up in a book—to make them material in some way. A few years later she has moved on—I need to ask her if she still wants it.
The imagery of the remaining chimneys and washing machines has stuck with me since listening to this. Your insight into letting too much stuff into your home, overcrowding the truly valuable things, is poignant. Thank you for sharing.
This is the hardest part of any disaster, be it fire, flood, earthquake, or whatever - not the loss of "things" that can be tallied-up on an insurance company claim-form, but the loss of the "irreplacables" we all accumulate over a lifetime that remind us who we are, and where we've come from. The grief is real, so once the basic necessities like shelter, food, medicines, and insurance paperwork are taken-care of, don't neglect to let yourself grieve.
I liked your thoughts at the end about what you would like to see from everyone moving forward and your aspirations for change in the future. Expanding on these as you rebuild will be very interesting to read.
Thank you for your newfound insights parsing the real value of “stuff,” under such horrific circumstances. Your dispatches have me taking stock of what split-second decisions I would have made in your situation (only to be haunted by them after the fact). So glad your pointy shoes and handmade handbag made it out with you. Impractical, perhaps, but well worth it for the comfort they bring you now. And yes, keep us posted on a GoFundMe …
Thank you for the dispatch, Meghan of the pointy shoes. Such an important reminder about the world of things. I’m looking around my home with new eyes. I’m sorry about your lost painting. And your oboe ❤️
Your equanimity in the midst of all this is admirable.
Altadena is where my daughter’s friends could find relative affordability in a lovely community and still teach at Harvard Westlake, open a bakery in Atwater Village, work as a realtor in Glassel Park or in a gallery on Western. This tragedy for so very many people, the established middle class black community, those with small children starting their family lives or merely finding a relatively affordable home is a city and the elderly population there forever is a tragedy we all will not get over in any future that I will see. I am so sorry.
I’ve been a fickle subscriber over the years. Just subscribed for the year again as these dispatches have been a reminder of why I first loved your writing. We’ve lived through a few destructive hurricanes and I’ve learned the way of having a go bag (mine includes things that are also well loved items). Thanks for sharing these. They’re unique and show a fuller version of your experiences in California.
I don't know if it will make you feel any better, but my good friends - one an artist - who lost their house in Santa Cruz to fire thought and did the same thing. That is, they thought it was a precaution and didn't take much with them. They took none of her art.
I'm sorry for your losses. Particularly of your art - that piece! - and the books. I am happy you have the pointed shoes and the bag . (Fire material to me...)
As Leslie and I were listening and you mentioned the intact fireplaces, we both realized that there was a disaster formula. Fire = house burned, chimney in tact. Earthquake = chimney gone, wood frame house in tact. Glad it was the earthquake that hit us - easy to rebuild the chimney.
Lots of love to you, Meghan. Thanks for bringing so much heart to telling the story of your experience.
Meghan, thank you for this thoughtful, ground-zero point of view, which is largely missing from everything I've heard about the fires so far. I look forward to future dispatches, and I am sorry to see/listen to what you and many Angelenos are going through right now.
Meghan, I had considered becoming a paid subscriber....and did so a few days ago.
Thank you, Meghan, for the update and for your words. They are inspiring. I hope you are surrounded by friends and may peace and grounding be yours.
Thank you for another glimpse into your thoughts amidst this catastrophe affecting your life. It’s so true that we tend to hang on to so much stuff that’s “material”, yet immaterial to our life. In a situation like your evacuation, I fear I too would be paralyzed when I should act to separate the wheat from the chaff. We emotionally attach ourselves to things that are not objectively valuable, but to us they are. When I moved house, the hardest decision was which books to give away. Yes, a lot of things can be replaced, but they don’t feel the same. Something of us is lost.