Five Month Update

The path to rebuilding

At left, the Army Corps team planning the debris removal of our lot. At right, the aftermath.

Time is moving quickly in this surreal new life, and much has happened in the five months since the fire. In early April, pleasantly earlier than I anticipated, the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers cleared our lot. Now all that remains of our former lives is a massive crater in the soil where the cement slab and retaining walls once stood. It took just two days of machinery to undo 71 years of home.

With most of the lots on our block now cleared, we are permitted to rebuild. Yet there are many steps to complete before we can even think about framing or walls. And patience never was my strong suit.

We’ve hired an architect. They can start sketching after we pay a surveyor to map our property lines. This will take weeks if not months. There are also some unknowns about building codes and whether exceptions will be accommodated for fire rebuilds. Much of today’s code didn’t exist when our home was built in 1954, so we will probably have to design an entirely new structure.

While I’m looking forward to replacing the outdated elements of our home for energy-saving versions — like installing insulation-friendly double glazed windows in place of single glass panes — I’m not excited about the “modern” prices. I can’t stop thinking about the time we were quoted $112,000 to replace a wall of windows in our (modestly-sized) living room. Los Angeles building codes also require efficient features like solar panels and rainwater collection. All wonderful additions, but at what cost?

Once our new layout is finalized, we will apply for a building permit with the County of Los Angeles, a process which is notoriously slow and certifiably insane. As of May 30th, the county has only issued 15 permits to rebuild in the Eaton Fire area, despite receiving more than 600 applications. Residents also have to front anywhere from $25,000 to $50,000 to pay for these permits.

Fire-affected Pacific Palisades residents do not have to pay for their rebuild permits because Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass signed an order that only affects city residents (Altadena is in Los Angeles County, but unincorporated). Altadenans are rightly pissed. Our County Supervisor (the closest thing we have to a mayor) is trying to waive permit fees in Altadena, but who knows. Everything is coalescing at a time of overall “budget woes” in Los Angeles, and the county is looking to squeeze out extra cash wherever they can, like so many California oil wells bled dry.

It’s also hard to imagine a more dismal time to build a house. We’re up against soaring inflation, tariff tumult, less-than-ideal interest rates, and general supply chain kerfuffles. I laugh when I remember that our Mid Century Modern home was built in an era of everyman design, with an emphasis on minimalism and economical, easy-to-find materials.

Signs of Spring in Altadena ruins (35mm film).

We visit Altadena every few weeks. It has been bittersweet to witness the onset of Spring. With residents mostly displaced, the chaparral has moved on without us. Rare flowers called “fire followers” jut through heat-cracked asphalt. Native plants tower ferally without human intervention. Heritage gardens burst with bright blooms overshadowing charred vehicles and slumping stucco walls. The Spring scenery is as beautiful as ever, yet so completely strange. And depressing. And lonely.

These California bluebells are "fire followers," meaning they grow in areas affected by fire. I've never seen them in our yard before but now they are everywhere.

But life goes on, even busier than before. We try to grasp some semblance of normalcy while filling the days with endless calls from insurance adjusters and salesmen and government entities. Just when you think you’re moving on, you tear your house apart trying to find some mundane belonging (this week it was a scrunchie) before remembering it’s long gone, sitting in a pile of ash at the bottom of a landfill. Like it never even existed.

Embracing our temporary digs in Mount Washington.

Navigating this new life has been difficult and frankly dark at times, but I really don’t like being a victim. I struggle to even publish this; I don’t want it to seem like I’m fishing for a pity party when so many others are way, way worse off. Should I leave my thoughts in my head and off of Substack? I don’t know. I guess I feel like there are so many facets of this story to tell. The initial tragedy is over and news outlets have moved on, but it will be years before residents of Altadena (and Pacific Palisades) can even begin to move on.

When I’m bummed about my stupid scrunchie I try to remember how fortunate we are. We’ve landed comfortably in Mount Washington. When friends ask about the new house I tell them I would be miserable without it, and it’s not an exaggeration. The neighborhood is charming, and filled with Victorian homes (a little perk just for me). We’re only ten minutes from Downtown Los Angeles yet I still hear coyotes. I was on the porch at dusk yesterday when two big owls flew overhead. It reminded me of Altadena.