Fire isn’t funny – A personal essay on life below the burning hills

By Cynthia J. Cohen
LOS ANGELES (Herald de Paris) - Fire isn’t funny. But it obviously can be purposeful. Providing warmth, a means to cook, the conduit for a child to blow out birthday candles, the backdrop for a romantic evening — this is when the flames are seen as beautiful, dancing whispers of orange glow. But when fire becomes an inferno, raging, devastating, and deadly, it takes on a whole new meaning. A living hell.

Two firefighters have lost their lives in the Station Fire, thus labeled by authorities based on its proximity to a local ranger station, I believe. Geographically, it encompasses the hills of La Crescenta, La Canada/Flintridge, the Angeles National Forest and surrounding vicinities, Pasadena and Glendale among them. It has burned over one hundred thousand acres. More than 60 homes have been destroyed, and countless memories have been lost. Mandatory evacuations have become the order of the day. The Station Fire is currently, on September 2nd, approximately 22 percent contained. Authorities have given September 15th as a possible date for full containment. Two weeks from now. That’s how unpredictable, how “angry”, how “cranky,” as the firefighters have labeled it, this blaze is.

The Governor is even here, and as I learned this morning, that usually means the fire is close to dissipating – meaning, the threat to homes and human lives is minimal. Even though it will take another two weeks to completely extinguish. The continuous 100 degree-plus temperatures, the temperamental winds, the lack of humidity and the treacherous terrain, have all come together to create the perfect storm. When I saw on TV that a 747 had been brought in to drop over 20 thousand pounds of fire retardant on the raging blaze, I truly realized the scope of this disaster.

That’s the hell of a brush fire that burns dangerously close to civilization. However, I would like to share a couple of anecdotes about California brush fires, as seen through the eyes of myself, a local — my parents, visiting from Maryland — and a couple of friends who all have varying reactions to the blaze.

I live in the flatlands of L.A. Streets that you don’t have to put your emergency brake on to park. Nowhere near potential brush fires. However, when these fires are first reported by the media, the first thing I ask myself is always, how close to me? I’m not sure if it’s just so I can sound dramatic and tell people, “Oh my god, the fire is so close to my house,” “Will the air smell like charred New York Strip” or “Is their going to be ash on my car?”

The Station Fire is a bit of all three. To offer a layout of the land, my home in Toluca Woods is approximately 15 miles southwest of La Canada/Flintridge, where the blaze began. My parents, who are novices to brush fires – my mother, especially – panics once my 9-year-old daughter and her friend discover they can see the plumes of smoke and orange glow as they play in my backyard. It’s an illusion, just how close those hills are to my home. But for a visitor, an outsider, a tourist, they have no perception of the fire’s ability, or should I say, inability, to reach their location. I tried to ease my mother’s fears, telling her that the fire would have to jump a plethora of freeways, office buildings, shopping malls, movie theaters and Taco Bells to come anywhere close to our humble abode. Still, smelling the smoke that filled the air, she wasn’t quite convinced. But hearing this morning that the smoke has also affected the skies of Colorado – yes, the state of Colorado – I think her fears about its proximity to my home were somewhat alleviated.

I also have a friend who lives in Sunland, dangerously close to Big Tujunga Canyon, another area where the fires have been raging. He’s an interesting fellow, my friend. His biggest fear, living in the hills, has always been that a brush fire will somehow consume his home, and I get that. But I joke with him that many times, his fears are unfounded. Last year, while he was in Africa, he heard about a brush fire raging in Santa Clarita, about ten miles and several freeways north of him. (That’s our unit of measurement for distance in L.A. – freeways.) He actually called me from Nairobi – god knows what that cost him – and asked me and a friend to check on his home. His house was nowhere near the path of the fire, but we removed his laptop from his house just to ease his fears while he cohabitated with gorillas.

But with the Station Fire, where the city of Sunland has been at risk, I felt compelled to text him. And oddly enough, despite the real threat to his home this time, he was surprisingly calm. He could see the flames from his home, but he seemed much more at ease than when he was 10000 miles away. I guess it’s just one of those situations where you just have to witness something yourself to assess it. Thank god, he and his home are fine. But perhaps he won’t be so quick to light up a cigar on his veranda in the next two weeks.
Another friend, who lives another six miles to my west, found ash all over her car a day or two after the fire began. She called me, wondering if there was a brush fire somewhere. She wasn’t even aware, initially that this blaze was even burning. And I have a theory for that. I think, in some ways, those of us who live in the flatlands of L.A. have become so immune to hearing about brush fires during fire season that we tune out reports on the newscasts. And, admittedly, when I hear it’s nowhere near me, I, too, go on with my day..
But for those who live in the vicinity of brush fires, like my friend in Sunland, they never have the luxury of “tuning out.” They’re always listening. Because within moments, through no fault of their own, their homes can become blackened, smoldering rubble. Their memories become ash. Their photos, their favorite piece of art, their most comfortable chair, can disappear. And they’re helpless. I say to myself, there but for the grace.

So, next time, I’m going to try not to tune out. . I will watch the local news, read updates on the internet, and desperately hope that these people, strangers or friends, will be able to return to their homes. And that animals, wild or domesticated, will be able to return to their homes. And that the relentlessly courageous firefighters, rescue personnel, and selfless volunteers, will be able to return to their homes.
And that life, can again, return to normal in Los Angeles. With the choking scent of ego rather than the choking scent of smoke.

We welcome YOUR personal essays and stories on the ongoing Los Angeles area fires.

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