Thursday afternoon
Dad via text: “send a pic people here want to see”
Dad’s internal conversation: “It’s crazy that fire is a spectator sport here in LA, watching the fearless firefighters waging battle against the elements, smoke counts some but actual flames get the utmost respect, they’re the real deal. Maybe we’re conditioned from the countless hours of media coverage over the years, we know real danger when we see it. It’s this weird fascination this urban battle with nature.”

Adele sends the attached photo. Dad freaks. Smoke and fire…

Adele via text: “helicopter is putting out some flames”
Dad via text (nervously): “Good deal keep me posted”
Adele via text: “fire truck is riding up and down the street”
Dad sitting in office, ten miles away, watching the smoke getting thicker and thicker, has another internal conversation: “OK, Topanga has not burned in decades, there’s enough fuel in the hills to cause some serious damage, and once it goes, its gonna GO! Teri, kids and dogs are together and they can get out via PCH or via the access road behind the Getty, they will be fine, don’t forget Sunny the lizard. Our important papers are here with me. Check to make sure the passports are here. Need keys for lock box and storage unit. There’s cash in the house somewhere. Gas in the car? Need clothes, maybe a place to stay?”
Teri via text: “don’t try and come home early the traffic is awful they’ve closed PCH at coastline”
Dad sitting in office, internal conversation: “I’ve got my running stuff in the car, can run back home if need be…”

Friday afternoon
Teri via text: “fire is back”
Dad, sitting in the office, searching for the smoke plume through the thick, brown haze, has another internal conversation: “that’s not good, they put all kinds of heavy artillery on it last night and dumped tons of water and fire retardant, what do you mean its back?”
Teri via text: “can you get Vince?” meaning go get him NOW, anxiety levels are starting to peak.
Dad drops everything goes…

Saturday, Sunday & Monday we had a steady stream of helicopters and planes dropping water and fire retardant along the ridge and down the other side of the canyon. It was like being in some kind of altered reality where big, heavy machinery battled the elements all around us and life just sort of continued on as if everything was perfectly normal. Every once in a while we would stop and snap a photo, respond to a neighbor peeking over our fence or check online to make sure the flames were getting smaller. Sirens and the “wump-wump-wump” of the helicopters fell into a natural rhythm. By sundown Tuesday they stopped. It was a long holiday weekend.

“Wump-Wump-Wump” Price we pay for paradise…