Current Affairs

The Franklin Fire in Malibu threatens my community. It also brings us together.


The campus was closed for the second consecutive “fire day.” Instead of heading to morning classes, my high school freshman would watch younger classmates whose parents had to work. This family usually pays her to babysit, and now there is no charge. We form a village.

I recently moved to Los Angeles after three decades of living apart — now, with one teenager at home and another in college. Our little house is in the hills near the Franklin Fire that swept through Malibu this week, a remote valley. So far, it has consumed about 4,000 acres, and is close to the land of my daughter’s school.

Why did we write this?

Story focused on

Natural disasters are often thought-provoking events. Our writer reflects on setting priorities as wildfire looms—and building local relationships along the way.

I realize I don’t have a suitcase. We keep important papers in a fireproof box for this particular occasion, but I’ve neglected to pack the other essentials. All I really need is my girls and our baby girl, Rocky.

It is impossible to ignore the mounting feeling of disaster. In the last few weeks, we had a small earthquake, which was too small to trigger the warning system; My oldest daughter, who lives in Northern California, was affected by a tsunami warning; And now we have this final fire.

But now I have a plan. And my village is growing.

The campus was closed for the second consecutive “fire day.” Instead of heading to morning classes, my high school freshman would watch younger classmates whose parents had to work. This family usually pays her to babysit, and now there is no charge. We form a village.

I looked around our house with great gratitude: the nutcrackers we had collected; My grandparents’ furniture. A white dresser served as a changing table for my daughter, who is now in college; Artworks – lots of art – collected abroad, passed down through generations, and made by little hands when my daughters were younger.

I recently moved to Los Angeles after three decades of living apart — now, with one teenager at home and another in college. Our little house is located in the hills near Franklin Fire It’s sweeping across Malibu this week, a remote valley. The fire has so far burned about 4,000 acres, and is approaching my daughter’s wooded school grounds.

Why did we write this?

Story focused on

Natural disasters are often thought-provoking events. Our writer reflects on setting priorities as wildfire looms—and building local relationships along the way.

We saw Cal Fire Live evacuation map We grow through the night – ready to run to campus to save whatever we can. As of the fourth day, the school was under an evacuation warning, but its small cabins in the hills were still standing.

Los Angeles is a city of mountains, valleys, coasts and canyons that connect them. It’s this topography that creates Los Angeles’ microclimates—a draw for locals who have strong opinions about which neighborhood has the best weather—and its well-equipped fire lanes.

Ali Martin/The Christian Science Monitor

Visiting the Nutcracker ballet was an annual tradition for the writer’s family. Every year her daughters happily bring out the dolls, collected from shows and shown here at the fireplace on December 12, 2024, in Los Angeles.

The air feels heavy. Cold humidity brings the slightest hope of moisture. Natural haze mixed in with any smoke that might indicate flames making their way up the Pacific side of the Santa Monica Mountains. We are surrounded by trees: sycamore, lemon, pomegranate, orange, cypress, elm, maple and oak. In the middle of the city, we are connected to nature. This duality is as integral to the Los Angeles makeup as sunshine and the creative spirit.

I grew up here, in the San Fernando Valley, where drought and earthquakes are part of the atmosphere. But the actual threat of fire always floated as a low cloud of possibility that never descended. yet.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *