First Person

A Weekend in Juarez

What I did was illegal. In 1955, I was living in California, married, when my “kid” sister, Muriel, called from New York. We had lost touch since she married Alfred Letourneur, a famous French…

Joe Blaustein & the Flood of Florence

Joe Blaustein took photos out  the window of the pensione’s fifth floor. “Dawn was hardly dawn. On the opposite shore I could just make out a parked yellow car and half a…

Keeping Love Alive at the Hamburger Habit

About seven years ago, my sweetie, Jim, and I decided to celebrate Valentine’s Day by making reservations at one of our favorite restaurants—Anarbagh Indian Cuisine in Woodland Hills. We dressed up! I…

A Message from the Twilight Zone

I have a hundred stories of the Woolsey Fires, but this one is the strangest. Our house on Point Dume in Malibu survived the Woolsey Fire—thanks to neighbors who stayed behind and…

Woolsey Fire Chronicles Evacuating the Fourth Estate

Nearly 25 years ago, my husband, Janek, and I moved our large family to Topanga Canyon. Like many newcomers to canyon life, we were clueless about what living in the wildland urban…

More Woolsey Chronicles

Topanga Nutcracker through the Eyes of Evacuation For a few months every year, young children, preteens, teenagers, parents, and old friends come together to create the Topanga Nutcracker, and bring to life…

Woolsey Fire Chronicles The Edge of Green

I evacuated late, then snuck back into the Canyon as soon as I could. The day I came back, I woke up really early, stuffed five dogs and two cats in the…

The Topanga Snail Convention

I moved to Topanga in 1978. At that time, I had a king-size heated waterbed. Remember those days? Topanga was beautiful space–land, community, music–what more could an urban Indian want? I had…

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When the Power Died and the Fire Raged

The power went off at 6 a.m. on Friday, November 9. I remember because growling at my Alexa to wake up didn’t work. That woke me up. Thus the day, and those…

“Get Ready Malibu!”

I’ve lived in Malibu all my life. One of earliest memories is the 1970 fire, my father holding me on his shoulders in front of the house, pointing to the glow on…