The L.A. Fires
The stories in Corvairs and Horny Toads are set in a fictional town that very much represents my hometown on the storied Llano Estacado. I begin reading each story with the invitation “This is my home. Let me tell you about it.”
And truly, Dixon is my home—in memory and love and sentiment.
But let me tell you about my current home. The home of my everyday adult life, my home of over thirty years...
We live in Los Angeles—the Valley. Over the last week, we have watched as vast parts of this sprawling city have burned. We have watched the flames devour entire sections of L. A., threaten and destroy landmarks, displace friends and fellow Angelenos. We have felt and listened to the unrelenting winds, smelled the smoke and known what the smell means. It is the odor of homes, vegetation, landmarks, every single thing people own and cherish going up in flames.
The story I had planned for Corvairs and Horny Toads this week…I couldn’t. I tried to record it, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t speak the words, tell the story, share the memories of the home in my memory because so much of my current home is burning, being destroyed by hungry, cruel fires. I cherish my home and mourn for it.
We are safe for now, but my heart is broken.
I’ll be back with a new story soon.
Well said Lucinda. I'm doing fine, and my home is still standing "Gracias a Dios!" My heart goes out to those who may have experienced less fortunate circumstances than myself during this devastating event. We'll talk soon.
Los Angeles is more than a place. It's a promise of good weather and a brighter future. It’s the promise of landing a good paying job or conquering the largest wave. This week was a time of broken promises. As a native Angelino, I am mourning.