The Healing Power of Community

Dear L.A. neighbors, friends, and loved ones,

If you’re up here during this tragic and traumatic moment for our beloved Los Angeles, welcome. If you’re reading this from afar, I hope you’re somewhere safe with the support of friends and loved ones. If your home has been destroyed, or you’ve suffered any other meaningful loss, I think I speak for this entire community when I say our hearts go out to you. We know all too well your pain. 

It was just seven short years ago that the Thomas Fire ravaged the mountains above our town and left a burn scar that led to the devastating 1/9 debris flow. This wildland-urban interface disaster traumatized this community, destroyed 10% of our homes and took 23 precious lives. It shook this community to its core and left us feeling and fearing that Montecito would never be the same. At the time it was hard to believe that Montecito would ever be a place where people would choose to buy a home again, let alone escape to.

Fool’s Paradise?

It’s true we will forever be changed by that calamity. That we’ll never forget the trauma and tragedy of that moment. More so for those who, in an instant, lost loved ones, pets, and their homes. For those of us who called Montecito home on 1/9/2018, we will likely never reclaim the blissful ignorance that comes from not understanding that Mother Nature does not discriminate; and that she always bats last.

On the other hand, our 2018 tragedy also had some silver linings that left us wiser, more resilient, deeply appreciative of community, and conscious of the tradeoffs one makes for living on a strip of paradise sandwiched between the sparkling Pacific and the majestic Santa Ynez Mountains. 

What Did We Learn from the Thomas Fire and Debris Flow – And What Can Others Learn from It? 

On January 9, 2018, Montecito was torn asunder. It was almost unfathomable there was so much carnage in such a small place. Montecito looked like it had been attacked, which in a sense it had, by the forces of gravity and Nature’s trident of downward rotational force meets mass meets velocity. Our town was unrecognizable and, in some cases, washed out to sea. 

In the weeks that followed, we came to understand the profound value of knowing our neighbors. We’ll never forget the acts of heroism that took place in harrowing, character-defining moments: a baby pulled from the mud, a teenager rescued from deep beneath the earth. The amazing people of Santa Barbara, some friends, some strangers, who did our laundry, clothed us, housed us, fed us, taught our children in makeshift classrooms, wept with us. No more was Montecito just a “rich” enclave to the south. We were all in this together. As scary as that moment was, it’s the warm feeling of community, with daily acts of humanity, that I remember the most and will remember forever.

Another silver lining came in the form of some important lessons I’d like to share with you, because they might be helpful:

In the immediate aftermath of 1/9, we were under the illusion that the powers that be would swoop in and make it all okay. That government would help us get through the moment, and work diligently to make us safer and more resilient going forward. We very quickly figured out that there was no cavalry coming. That was terrifying…at first.

“Montecito looked like it’d been attacked, which in a sense it had, by the forces of gravity and Nature’s trident of downward rotational force meets mass meets velocity. As the Palisades and Altadena are today, so, too, was our town unrecognizable.”

Government is a lot of things, but nimble is not one of them. The wheels of bureaucracy turn slowly, and while it might speed up somewhat in dire emergencies, I believe that government is not well suited for these moments. Which is separate from first responders and other emergency services which were built precisely to respond quickly and efficiently and heroically to our immediate needs. 

Within a week of the debris flow, it became painfully clear that government was not prepared to provide the answers we were looking for. What happened next was a beautiful thing, and forever impacted my belief in the strength and importance of community.

Immediately, a group of Montecito residents acted by literally picking up shovels and began digging out people’s mud-filled homes. This group evolved into the Bucket Brigade, whose primary work is deploying volunteers in response to natural disasters and community. In times when they’re not dealing with natural events and disasters, they are a powerful engine behind other community projects like building walking paths around Montecito to make our town safer and more walkable. 

The other notable group that formed was called The Project for Resilient Communities, which got to work researching global resilience strategies, and applied for emergency permits to install debris nets on the mountains above our homes, and with the help of the community raised six million dollars to purchase and install them. The time it takes to apply for and receive an emergency permit is far shorter than for a regular permit. As a public private partnership, we were able to work at a pace that government would not be able to.

And then there were the geology professors from UCSB who volunteered hundreds of hours of expertise to help us find a path forward out of the devastation. 

These and many other community efforts empowered us to participate in our own survival and allowed us to feel like we had at least some agency over our own destinies. They gave us an alternative to feeling helpless. They provided a way for us to connect with one another in a way that created bonds I suspect will never be broken. Bonds that got us all through a time that, in retrospect, it’s hard to believe ever happened. 

Many efforts like these are already popping up around Los Angeles and even here in Santa Barbara. 

When the Smoke Clears

As Winston Churchill once said, “When you’re going through hell, keep going.” In the meantime, be good to yourselves. Be good to each other. Don’t waste time looking to assign blame, there will be plenty of time for blue ribbon commissions when the smoke clears. 

“Build Back Better” was a catch phrase and ultimately a failed stimulus bill that never made it through Congress. But what I’d like to share with our displaced friends in Altadena and the Palisades is that more than a slogan, common citizens can actually build back better. Or at least they can start the process by putting one foot in front of the other. They can stick a shovel in the ground or clear a roadway, and, in the process, gain not just a sense of community, but of agency. Post disaster, hope is like electrolytes for the soul. And that’s something no cavalry was ever going to bring, or even could bring, on slow horses with small saddle bags.

Read more about how Montecito is helping those affected by the Los Angeles fires.