{"id":499217,"date":"2026-01-07T15:47:13","date_gmt":"2026-01-07T15:47:13","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/499217\/"},"modified":"2026-01-07T15:47:13","modified_gmt":"2026-01-07T15:47:13","slug":"one-year-since-my-childhood-home-burned","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/499217\/","title":{"rendered":"One year since my childhood home burned"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

When we went around the table at Thanksgiving, our close ones laid out their myriad plans and wishes for the coming year: writing projects, work goals, fitness regimens, travel plans. All the wishes sort of blended into a bit of white noise for me. Until our friends Betsy and Howard took their turns. \u201cI want a home,\u201d was all Betsy said. \u201cYeah,\u201d Howard agreed, \u201ca home.\u201d<\/p>\n

The home they owned in Altadena \u2014 near the top of Lake Avenue and just below wild brushland \u2014 burned down one year ago tonight. I recall it as a beautifully quirky place, where you could soak in a hot tub or cook a pizza in an outdoor brick oven, or look over a small fruit orchard and take in a good portion of the western San Gabriel Valley.<\/p>\n

You’re reading the Essential California newsletter <\/p>\n

Betsy and Howard are among the lucky ones. They have good insurance and they\u2019re roosting in a fine temporary place in Pasadena. But like thousands of others, they don\u2019t feel they\u2019re home. <\/p>\n

We all know a home is more than just the roof over our heads. Often it\u2019s those who\u2019ve lost theirs who understand what it really means. It\u2019s a set of routines developed over years, the comfort of the familiar and a monument to the different ways families learn to feel safe and like themselves. <\/p>\n

Our friends\u2019 holiday wish clarified the way in which disasters can be simultaneously crushing and affirming. They leave us lost and bewildered. And they remind us what really matters.<\/p>\n

The scope of postfire logistics can overwhelm<\/p>\n

The family home where I grew up in Malibu, which we still own, also burned a year ago. Our old ranch house, built in 1948 and bought by my parents in 1969, had survived too many fires to remember. But the monster of 2025 finally took it down, leaving a void in place of the house where my mom had died just months earlier.<\/p>\n

We already had taken much of what we wanted from the old place. But some photos and my mom\u2019s artwork went up with the flames.<\/p>\n

What should we do next? The most sensible thing might be to sell. But in this postfire environment, potential buyers are fleeting and prices have swooned, especially given the difficulty that any owner, new or old, will find in insuring properties in the fire zone.<\/p>\n

In the meantime, properties have been carrying costs. To get the county to restart water service, I had to get a plumber to install a backflow inhibitor. The device prevents contaminated water from things like fires from flushing back into the public water lines. That cost several thousand dollars to install and get certified. Several thousand more went to building a temporary irrigation system to prevent the last remnants of our landscaping from dying altogether.<\/p>\n

Like many folks in the two fire zones, I\u2019m still working to get a full settlement from our insurance company. To do that, you\u2019d better have a specific bid from a contractor or contractors, showing what the costs will be. I\u2019m still diving into that morass, finding contractors crazy busy and some loath to give a price if they\u2019re not sure you\u2019ll hire them for the job.<\/p>\n

I can count a few small victories: After multiple calls and emails, the county assessor\u2019s office finally acknowledged there is no home on our land anymore. That will reduce our taxes considerably. And I was able to find original plans for our house, designed by renowned architect Cliff May, in an archive at UC Santa Barbara. So we now have a full-color rendering of what the house once was and might be again.<\/p>\n

\"Rendering <\/p>\n

Rendering of the Rainey Malibu home.<\/p>\n

(Art, Design & Architecture Museum \/ UCSB)<\/p>\n

Rebuild or not, we\u2019ll never go back to life before Jan. 7<\/p>\n

Within our own families, rebuilding can feel overwhelming. Even if you turn out to be one of the rare families with enough insurance to cover reconstruction, do all of your loved ones want to go through the ordeal? And what kind of neighborhood will you return to?<\/p>\n

An old friend from the neighborhood, Bill Stange, has found plowing through all the rebuilding details amounts to a full-time job. And he\u2019s not sure how many of his neighbors will stay the course, even if he does.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re working to rebuild your house and put memories back where they\u2019re supposed to be,\u201d Stange said to me this week. \u201cBut you\u2019re also looking for your tribe. And, you know, most of the tribes have gone far and wide with the wind since this fire. \u2026So you could lose that character and that cohesiveness that doesn\u2019t come with every neighborhood. That\u2019s the shrinking part of Malibu that I hope doesn\u2019t go away totally, you know?\u201d<\/p>\n

More on the firesToday\u2019s top stories \"Rep. <\/p>\n

Rep. Doug LaMalfa (R-Richvale) answers questions during a town hall meeting in Chico in August.<\/p>\n

(Hector Amezcua \/ Sacramento Bee)<\/p>\n

California Rep. Doug LaMalfa, 1960-2026Trump\u2019s operation in VenezuelaLAFD fire reportL.A.\u2019s lower homicide rates<\/p>\n