L.A. Burning
written by: Dianne Moritz
I fell in love with Los Angeles the minute my plane landed at LAX in early spring, 1970. Everything about the city was intoxicating: the sunshine, swaying palm trees, exotic Spanish style architecture, the colors, the sea, the warm air and more.
I’d come to visit my sister for a long weekend, to check out the area, and research available teaching jobs.
My first day in LA, I rented a car on Hollywood Boulevard and went exploring. I drove up to Griffith Park, pulled into the parking lot, then walked around Griffith Observatory. I’d been smitten with the beautiful Art Deco building ever since I’d seen it featured in the classic movie, Rebel Without a Cause, as a teenager. On a clear day, the view is panoramic. You can see all the way from the San Gabriel Mountains to the Pacific Ocean. That day I was mesmerized. I had to live in LA!
After my brief stay, I quickly made plans to move to sunny California permanently. I gave notice at my dead-end job in a child guidance center in Minneapolis, sold most of my belongings, took an epic road trip west, and escaped Minnesota’s brutal winters forever.
I rented my first apartment in Santa Monica, a separate city by the sea, four blocks from Pacific Palisades Park, perched above Ocean Avenue, with beautiful views of Santa Monica Bay, the beaches, and the vast Pacific ocean. On a cloudless, sunny day, one can sometimes catch a glimpse of Catalina Island twenty-six miles in the distance.
When I told friends of my move, many were terrified. “California has earthquakes!” they shouted, but I wasn’t worried about something that might happen. After all, disasters are far beyond my or anyone else’s control.
I did experience the 1971 LA earthquake. The tremors woke me up. My roommate and I scrambled to get under the front doorway beams. I admit, I was frightened. Yet the most significant damage occurred in the San Fernando Valley, far away from where we were.
(I’d been called in to substitute teach in the inner city that day, then LAUSD closed all schools. I still got paid!)
Throughout my years living in LA, I was particularly fond of California’s early winter months when the Santa Ana winds blew. Even though winters were mild, the winds brought warmer weather along the coast, which felt like a bonus summer….until global warming became a huge issue.
In the ensuing years, there have been torrential rains, mudslides, droughts and worse all over LA County and beyond.
One year, my sister, who lived in Beverly Glen, remembered seeing garbage cans and small cars floating down the canyon. She said the road resembled river rapids!
In 1983, no one welcomed El Niño. Huge waves battered the coastline, which resulted in beach erosion, floods, and landslides. Homes slid down the hillsides. Pacific Coast Highway was closed in some places and much damage occurred. At the time it was considered the worst event in California history.
Until now.
I watch in horror while my beloved city burns down, thousands of homes turn to rubble, and people’s lives are lost or changed completely in the ravaging wildfires.
Most of Pacific Palisades is gone.
The Malibu coastline, where I once swam, watched surfers ride the waves, attended parties, and celebrated birthday dinners on the beach at Moon Shadows Restaurant for many years, no longer exists. It is now an endless wasteland.
What devastation and grief does the future hold for our old Mother Earth?
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