latimes--2020-09-16--How you can get a flu shot in Southern California

It ’ s roughly Month 7 of the pandemic and Week 4 of wildfire season .
Unfortunately , we have one more concern to add to your plate : It ’ s time to get a flu shot .
Thousands of people die every year from the flu .
The CDC estimates that in the 2019-20 flu season , there were as many as 740,000 flu-related hospitalizations and 24,000 to 62,000 flu-related deaths in the United States .
If people maintain their social distancing protocols through fall , we may experience a than normal .
You ’ re a lot @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in your house .
But as coronavirus rates start to come down in some parts of the country , there ’ s a fear that eased restrictions or even just a perception of reduced risk will lead to a — a rough flu season on top of COVID-19 .
“ The flu vaccine is important in all years , but this year it ’ s even more important , ” said Robert Kim-Farley , an epidemiologist and infectious disease expert at the UCLA Fielding School of Public Health .
That applies even if @ @ @ @ @ @ @ limiting trips and seeing no one , he said .
“ As much as we try to be careful , we still are going to have need sometimes of being exposed when we go out on an essential errand , even if we try to practice good physical distancing , hand-washing , et cetera , ” he said .
“ You just never can be totally certain.
” And in case you were wondering , no , that elderberry syrup protocol doesn ’ t replace a flu shot either .
The website lets @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the country .
The options for the flu shot include the standard vaccine for those 18 and older , as well as alternatives for children , seniors , the nasal spray and an egg-free variant .
Results will include pharmacies , grocery stores with pharmacy locations inside , urgent care centers , and other medical clinics .
Your local pharmacy will likely have flu shots in stock soon , if it doesn ’ t already .
Call ahead to make sure before you show up .
CVS and Walgreens are offering online scheduling @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the link to make a , and here is the link to schedule .
If you have a doctor ’ s visit of any kind scheduled in the near future , call their office and ask if they have any in stock .
Flu shot clinics also will be offered at health centers around Los Angeles and L.A. County Library locations .
Though the dates and locations haven ’ t been announced yet , the system is set to post information on , and the county Public Health Department has a full that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ fall .
Most flu shots are free with insurance or are offered at a low cost .
Flu shots are required to be provided at no cost under the Affordable Care Act , though you may have to reach out to your insurer directly to find out if you need to go to a specific provider or location to get the shot for free .
began offering flu shots as of Sept. 1 .
If you ’ re insured by Medi-Cal , find a primary care physician or pharmacy using their or , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 877 ) 658-0305 .
Flu shots are available at .
How effective is this year ’ s flu shot ?
It ’ s too early to know how effective this year ’ s flu shot will be .
This year ’ s vaccine has been updated with different strains from last year ’ s , Kim-Farley said .
Even if you catch the flu , having gotten the shot can lessen the disease ’ s length and severity .
Getting a flu shot this year is “ particularly important to reduce the stress @ @ @ @ @ @ @ reduce the risk of having flu and COVID at the same time , ” Kim-Farley said .
So mask up , make a plan , and protect yourself .

It’s roughly Month 7 of the pandemic and Week 5 of wildfire season. Unfortunately, we have one more concern to add to your plate: It’s time to get a flu shot.
Thousands of people die every year from the flu. The CDC estimates that in the 2019-20 flu season, there were as many as 740,000 flu-related hospitalizations and 24,000 to 62,000 flu-related deaths in the United States.
If people maintain their social distancing protocols through fall, we may experience a less deadly flu season than normal. You’re a lot less likely to catch the flu sitting in your house. But as coronavirus rates start to come down in some parts of the country, there’s a fear that eased restrictions or even just a perception of reduced risk will lead to a “twindemic” — a rough flu season on top of COVID-19.
The bottom line: Get a flu shot.
“The flu vaccine is important in all years, but this year it’s even more important,” said Robert Kim-Farley, an epidemiologist and infectious disease expert at the UCLA Fielding School of Public Health.
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That applies even if you’re working from home and limiting trips and seeing no one, he said.
“As much as we try to be careful, we still are going to have need sometimes of being exposed when we go out on an essential errand, even if we try to practice good physical distancing, hand-washing, et cetera,” he said. “You just never can be totally certain.”
And in case you were wondering, no, that elderberry syrup protocol doesn’t replace a flu shot either.
Lifestyle No, elderberry syrup will not prevent the flu Elderberry products are all the rage for natural wellness types online. But drinking homemade elderberry tinctures won’t prevent colds or the flu.
How to find a flu shot
The website VaccineFinder.org lets you find locations for immunizations anywhere in the country. The options for the flu shot include the standard vaccine for those 18 and older, as well as alternatives for children, seniors, the nasal spray and an egg-free variant. Results will include pharmacies, grocery stores with pharmacy locations inside, urgent care centers, and other medical clinics.
Free flu shot clinics will be offered at L.A. County Library locations around the city in October and November — here’s the schedule of locations and dates. Several city health clinics offer free influenza vaccinations at certain times of the week — here is the list (available in English and in Spanish) of locations and hours.
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Your local pharmacy will likely have flu shots in stock soon, if it doesn’t already. Call ahead to make sure before you show up. CVS and Walgreens are offering online scheduling for flu shots. Here’s the link to make a flu vaccine appointment with CVS , and here is the link to schedule a flu shot at Walgreens .
If you have a doctor’s visit of any kind scheduled in the near future, call their office and ask if they have any in stock.
Most flu shots from any doctor or pharmacy are free with insurance or are offered at a low cost. Flu shots are required to be provided at no cost under the Affordable Care Act, though you may have to reach out to your insurer directly to find out if you need to go to a specific provider or location to get the shot for free. Kaiser Permanente walk-in clinics began offering flu shots as of Sept. 1.
If you’re insured by Medi-Cal, find a primary care physician or pharmacy using their provider finder tool or pharmacy finder tool , or by calling member services at (877) 658-0305. Flu shots are available at no cost under Medi-Cal .
California Could the coronavirus make for a lighter flu season? The social distancing that tamps down the coronavirus could also keep many people from getting the flu.
How effective is this year’s flu shot?
It’s too early to know how effective this year’s flu shot will be. This year’s vaccine has been updated with different strains from last year’s, Kim-Farley said. Even if you catch the flu, having gotten the shot can lessen the disease’s length and severity.
Getting a flu shot this year is “particularly important to reduce the stress on the healthcare system, and to reduce the risk of having flu and COVID at the same time,” Kim-Farley said.
So mask up, make a plan, and protect yourself.


latimes--2020-09-16--It's tough to tell COVID-19 from smoke inhalation symptoms — and flu season's coming

The patients walk into Dr. Melissa Marshall ’ s community clinics in Northern California with the telltale symptoms .
They ’ re having trouble breathing .
It may even hurt to inhale .
They have a cough , and the sore throat is definitely there .
A straight case of COVID-19 ?
Not so fast .
This is wildfire country .
Up and down the West Coast , hospitals and health facilities are reporting an influx of patients with problems most likely related to smoke inhalation .
As fires rage largely uncontrolled amid dry heat and high winds , smoke @ @ @ @ @ @ @ towns up to hundreds of miles away , turning the sky orange or gray and making ordinary breathing difficult .
But that , Marshall said , is only part of the challenge .
Facilities already strapped for testing supplies and personal protective equipment must first rule out COVID-19 in these patients , because many of the symptoms they have are the same as those caused by the virus .
“ Obviously , there ’ s overlap in the symptoms , ” said Marshall , the CEO of CommuniCare , a collection of six @ @ @ @ @ @ @ underinsured and uninsured patients .
“ Any time someone comes in with even some of those symptoms , we ask ourselves , ‘ Is it COVID ?
’ At the end of the day , clinically speaking , I still want to rule out the virus.
” The protocol is to treat the symptoms , whatever their cause , while recommending that the patient quarantine until test results for the virus come back , she said .
It is a scene playing out in numerous hospitals .
Administrators and physicians , finely attuned @ @ @ @ @ @ @ quickly and wreak havoc , simply won ’ t take a chance when they recognize symptoms that could emanate from the virus .
“ We ’ ve seen an increase in patients presenting to the emergency department with respiratory distress , ” said Dr. Nanette Mickiewicz , president and CEO of Dominican Hospital in Santa Cruz .
“ As this can also be a symptom of COVID-19 , we ’ re treating these patients as we would any person under investigation for coronavirus until we can rule them out through our screening process.
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ are more specific to COVID-19 , like fever , would become apparent .
For the workers at Dominican , the issue moved to the top of the list quickly .
Santa Cruz and San Mateo counties have borne the brunt of the CZU Lightning Complex fires , which have burned more than 86,000 acres .
Multiple tents erected outside the building serve as an extension of its ER waiting room .
They also are used to perform what has come to be understood as an essential role : separating those with symptoms of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ have been arriving at NorthBay Healthcare ’ s two hospitals in Solano County with COVID-19-like symptoms that may actually be from smoke inhalation .
NorthBay ’ s intake process “ calls for anyone with COVID characteristics to be handled as [ a ] patient under investigation for COVID , which means they ’ re separated , screened and managed by staff in special PPE , ” said spokesperson Steve Huddleston .
At the two hospitals , which have handled nearly 200 COVID-19 cases so far , the protocol is well established .
Although @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the most dangerous time of year for wildfires — generally — another complication for health providers lies on the horizon : flu season .
The Southern Hemisphere , whose influenza trends during our summer months typically predict what ’ s to come for the U.S. , has had very little of the disease this year , presumably because of restricted travel , social distancing and face masks .
But it ’ s too early to be sure what the U.S. flu season will entail .
“ You can start to see some cases @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” said Marshall , “ and the reality is that it ’ s going to carry a number of characteristics that could also be symptomatic of COVID .
And nothing changes : You have to rule it out , just to eliminate the risk.
” Mark Kreidler writes for , a nonprofit news service covering health issues .
It is an editorially independent program of the and is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente .

The patients walk into Dr. Melissa Marshall’s community clinics in Northern California with the telltale symptoms. They’re having trouble breathing. It may even hurt to inhale. They have a cough, and the sore throat is definitely there.
A straight case of COVID-19? Not so fast. This is wildfire country.
Up and down the West Coast, hospitals and health facilities are reporting an influx of patients with problems most likely related to smoke inhalation. As fires rage largely uncontrolled amid dry heat and high winds, smoke and ash are settling on cities and towns up to hundreds of miles away, turning the sky orange or gray and making ordinary breathing difficult.
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But that, Marshall said, is only part of the challenge. Facilities already strapped for testing supplies and personal protective equipment must first rule out COVID-19 in these patients, because many of the symptoms they have are the same as those caused by the virus.
“Obviously, there’s overlap in the symptoms,” said Marshall, the CEO of CommuniCare, a collection of six clinics in Yolo County that treats mostly underinsured and uninsured patients. “Any time someone comes in with even some of those symptoms, we ask ourselves, ‘Is it COVID?’ At the end of the day, clinically speaking, I still want to rule out the virus.”
The protocol is to treat the symptoms, whatever their cause, while recommending that the patient quarantine until test results for the virus come back, she said.
It is a scene playing out in numerous hospitals. Administrators and physicians, finely attuned to COVID-19’s ability to spread quickly and wreak havoc, simply won’t take a chance when they recognize symptoms that could emanate from the virus.
“We’ve seen an increase in patients presenting to the emergency department with respiratory distress,” said Dr. Nanette Mickiewicz, president and CEO of Dominican Hospital in Santa Cruz. “As this can also be a symptom of COVID-19, we’re treating these patients as we would any person under investigation for coronavirus until we can rule them out through our screening process.” During the workup, symptoms that are more specific to COVID-19, like fever, would become apparent.
For the workers at Dominican, the issue moved to the top of the list quickly. Santa Cruz and San Mateo counties have borne the brunt of the CZU Lightning Complex fires, which have burned more than 86,000 acres. Multiple tents erected outside the building serve as an extension of its ER waiting room. They also are used to perform what has come to be understood as an essential role: separating those with symptoms of COVID-19 from those without.
Advertisement
New patients have been arriving at NorthBay Healthcare’s two hospitals in Solano County with COVID-19-like symptoms that may actually be from smoke inhalation.
NorthBay’s intake process “calls for anyone with COVID characteristics to be handled as [a] patient under investigation for COVID, which means they’re separated, screened and managed by staff in special PPE,” said spokesperson Steve Huddleston. At the two hospitals, which have handled nearly 200 COVID-19 cases so far, the protocol is well established.
Although the West Coast is now squarely in the most dangerous time of year for wildfires — generally September to December — another complication for health providers lies on the horizon: flu season.
The Southern Hemisphere, whose influenza trends during our summer months typically predict what’s to come for the U.S., has had very little of the disease this year, presumably because of restricted travel, social distancing and face masks. But it’s too early to be sure what the U.S. flu season will entail.
“You can start to see some cases of the flu in late October,” said Marshall, “and the reality is that it’s going to carry a number of characteristics that could also be symptomatic of COVID. And nothing changes: You have to rule it out, just to eliminate the risk.”


latimes--2020-09-16--Bobcat fire threatens multiple fronts, from Mt. Wilson to foothill neighborhoods

The Bobcat fire continued to be a threat on several fronts Tuesday , expanding to the northeast while all eyes remained on the southern foothill communities and the Mt .
Wilson Observatory to the west .
The blaze in the Angeles National Forest has charred 44,393 acres and remained at 3 % containment Wednesday morning , according to the .
The fire jumped Highway 2 on Tuesday evening and started a spot fire that has burned nearly 1,000 acres .
In response , new evacuation orders were issued for residences north of Angeles Crest North and between Clear Creek Station @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Fire Capt .
David Dantic said dry brush and steep terrain are the main reasons for the fire ’ s erratic behavior .
“ The fire is finding places to go through ridges , down [ wind channels ] and drainages , and it ’ s getting to new areas , ” Dantic said .
“ That ’ s why we ’ re constantly working on putting a perimeter around it .
But it has been challenging .
There are some places we can ’ t get to.
” On Tuesday , flames @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Observatory , at one time reaching less than .
The Forest Service credited strategic hand- and bulldozer-dug lines with creating a “ strong protection point ” for the observatory and said fire crews had a “ good night last night ... [ but ] not out of the woods yet.
” “ There is a possibility that the fire could go back up north toward Mt .
Wilson , because it ’ s just a little bit south of there and east , ” he said Wednesday morning .
“ We have structure @ @ @ @ @ @ @ trying to protect any property that we can.
” Tuesday evening , fire officials said “ isolated patches of the fire ran up towards the compound , however , firefighters ’ containment lines continue to hold.
” The observatory isn ’ t the only structure threatened by the blaze .
In the forest ’ s Big Santa Anita Canyon , officials said they feared 80 historic cabins , along with the 1893-built , may have been destroyed .
“ We think we lost most of it , ” said Deb Burgess , cabin @ @ @ @ @ @ @ board .
The cabins are made of wood and rock , and are preserved as such under Forest Service rules , said Ben Fitzsimmons , president of Big Santa Anita Canyon Permittees Assn.
, who added that it is “ unlikely that this 100-year-old community has survived unscathed.
” Forest Service officials could not confirm yet whether any structures had burned , further frustrating owners .
“ Why can ’ t they go through ?
” Burgess asked of the fire service personnel .
“ They don ’ t have to do a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ us something , just something to hold onto.
” Residents in other parts of Los Angeles are also watching the fire closely — particularly as it pertains to air quality .
The forecast for the day is sunny and smoky , according to the South Coast Air Quality Management District , which has extended a for the 10th consecutive day .
Smoke from the West Coast ’ s wildfires has now reached as far as the East Coast and parts of Europe .
The Bobcat fire is one of more than two dozen @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the 10 largest in terms of acres burned , according to the , which is providing air support for the blaze .
While more firefighters have been added to battle the wildfire , Cal Fire officials said size is not a primary factor in resource allocation .
“ Resources usually go where life is at stake , ” said Cal Fire spokeswoman Lynette Round .
“ Life is first , property is second , natural resources is third.
” More than 1,100 personnel are now assigned to the Bobcat fire — up @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the fire has crept closer to communities .
“ We have personnel everywhere , from the north to the south , ” Dantic said .
Evacuation orders for residents of Camp Williams in Azusa have been lifted , as have orders for parts of Arcadia and Sierra Madre north of Elkins Avenue and east of Santa Anita Avenue .
Residents in those areas will be allowed to return beginning at 4 p.m. Wednesday .
Evacuation warnings for Monrovia , Bradbury , Sierra Madre , Altadena , Duarte and Pasadena are still in effect @ @ @ @ @ @ @ National Forest , along with all national forests in California , has been extended until Sept. 21 .

The Bobcat fire continues to blaze in the mountains above Monrovia. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
A worker installs a street camera along North Azusa Avenue as smoke covers the sky from the Bobcat fire. (Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)
Claudia Alcaino walks her dogs along Highland Oaks Drive as crews continue to battle the Bobcat fire in the nearby Angeles National Forest. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
A line of California fire engines head to the flaming Santa Anita Canyon as the Bobcat fire burns near Arcadia. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
A firefighting helicopter refills in a reservoir on Grand View Ave. as crews continue to battle the Bobcat fire. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
Mormon Lake, Ariz. Hotshot Squad team member Jessy Twin looks over charred hillsides after clearing brush. Twin said his crew is on their sixth day of cutting line. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
Los Angeles County firefighters, using only hand tools, keep flames from jumping a fire break in the Angeles National Forest north of Monrovia. (David McNew / Getty Images)
A Coulson 737 firefighting tanker jet drops fire retardant to slow Bobcat fire at the top of a major run up a mountainside in the Angeles National Forest. (David McNew / Getty Images)
Firefighters keep watch from an overlook on Mt. Wilson as the Bobcat fire burns in the Angeles National Forest near Pasadena. (Mario Tama / Getty Images)
Firefighters look on from Sawpit Canyon as a controlled fire burns on a hillside overlooking the San Gabriel Valley. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
Curious deer look on as firefighters watch the progress of the Bobcat fire as it continues to burn in the Angeles National Forest. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
Flames from a control burn are used to reduce fuel near homes in Monrovia as the Bobcat fire continues to burn in the Angeles National Forest. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
Road Runners hand crew from the Angeles National Forest walk single file as they head for breakfast at the Bobcat fire command post at the Santa Fe Dam Recreation Park in Irwindale. (Irfan Khan/Los Angeles Times)
Roland Pagan surveys the remains of his home on Juniper Hills Drive. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)
After spending night at camp Pasadena, firefighters Christina Terrazas, left, and Jason Van Vlymen have their breakfast standing next to their fire truck. Hundreds of firefighters from different agencies fighting Bobcat Fire in San Gabriel mountains above Arcadia, Monrovia and Duarte camp overnight in Santa Fe Dam Recreation Park in Irwindale. (Irfan Khan/Los Angeles Times)
Los Angeles County firefighters standing on outlook as they monitor the Bobcat fire burning in a canyon near the Mt. Wilson Observatory in Angeles National Forest. (Irfan Khan/Los Angeles Times)
Flames crest a hill a few miles from Juniper Hills Rd. as the Bobcat fire advances north into the Antelope Valley. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
A fire engine drives into air thick with smoke along Juniper Hills Rd. as the Bobcat fire advances north into the Antelope Valley. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
LaVerne engine 761 arrives to offer defense as the Bobcat fire burns near homes in Monrovia. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
The LA County Fire Camp 9 hand crew rests on Big Pines Highway after working the north flank of the Bobcat fire near Mile High. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
A statue is left charred Sept. 19 after the Bobcat fire roared through Juniper Hills. (Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)
Castle Snider, 8, looks on as flames from a control burn are used to reduce fuel near homes in Monrovia as the Bobcat fire continues to burn in the Angeles National Forest. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
Bear Divide Hotshots cover a U.S. Forestry Department information center Sept. 19 in Wrightwood to protect it from the Bobcat fire. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)
A smokey sunset as the Bobcat Fire continues to burn in the Angeles National Forest. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
Mike Gregoryan is frustrated as he is asked to leave his home on Cruthers Creek as Bobcat fire closes in on structures. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)
A house on Cima Mesa Road in Juniper Hills burns Sept. 18 as the Bobcat fire continues to rage. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)
A statue sits on top of a house that burned to the ground in Juniper Hills. (Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)
The view from Big Pines Highway as the Bobcat fire continues to burn in the Angeles National Forest. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
Horses are spooked by the approaching Bobcat fire on 106th Street in Juniper Hills on Sept. 18. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)
The Bobcat fire continues to burn in the Angeles National Forest as seen from the Evergreen Cemetery in Los Angeles on Sept. 21. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
Firefighters continue to battle the Bobcat fire north of Mt. Wilson along Angeles Crest Highway. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
Blue Ridge Hot Shots crew members from Arizona help on a backfire operation on Angeles Crest Highway. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
Smoke and ash filter the sunset looking west from Angeles Crest Highway as the Bobcat fire continues to burn. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
Blue Ridge Hot Shots crew members from Arizona join forces with firefighters from Northern and Southern California on a backfire operation north of Mt. Wilson on Angeles Crest Highway. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
Blue Ridge Hot Shots crew members from Arizona work on a backfire operation north of Mt. Wilson on Angeles Crest Highway. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
The Bobcat fire continued to be a threat on several fronts Tuesday, expanding to the northeast while all eyes remained on the southern foothill communities and the Mt. Wilson Observatory to the west.
The blaze in the Angeles National Forest has charred 44,393 acres and remained at 3% containment Wednesday morning, according to the U.S. Forest Service . The fire jumped Highway 2 on Tuesday evening and started a spot fire that has burned nearly 1,000 acres.
In response, new evacuation orders were issued for residences north of Angeles Crest North and between Clear Creek Station and Highway 39.
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Los Angeles County Fire Capt. David Dantic said dry brush and steep terrain are the main reasons for the fire’s erratic behavior.
“The fire is finding places to go through ridges, down [wind channels] and drainages, and it’s getting to new areas,” Dantic said. “That’s why we’re constantly working on putting a perimeter around it. But it has been challenging. There are some places we can’t get to.”
On Tuesday, flames came dangerously close to Mt. Wilson Observatory, at one time reaching less than 500 feet from the famed complex . The Forest Service credited strategic hand- and bulldozer-dug lines with creating a “strong protection point” for the observatory and said fire crews had a “good night last night ... [but] not out of the woods yet.”
“There is a possibility that the fire could go back up north toward Mt. Wilson, because it’s just a little bit south of there and east,” he said Wednesday morning. “We have structure defense groups, and we’re trying to protect any property that we can.”
Tuesday evening, fire officials said “isolated patches of the fire ran up towards the compound, however, firefighters’ containment lines continue to hold.”
The observatory isn’t the only structure threatened by the blaze. In the forest’s Big Santa Anita Canyon, officials said they feared 80 historic cabins, along with the 1893-built Sturtevant Camp , may have been destroyed.
“We think we lost most of it,” said Deb Burgess, cabin owner and president of the Sturtevant Camp board.
The cabins are made of wood and rock, and are preserved as such under Forest Service rules, said Ben Fitzsimmons, president of Big Santa Anita Canyon Permittees Assn., who added that it is “unlikely that this 100-year-old community has survived unscathed.”
Forest Service officials could not confirm yet whether any structures had burned, further frustrating owners.
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“Why can’t they go through?” Burgess asked of the fire service personnel. “They don’t have to do a complete inventory, but they could give us something, just something to hold onto.”
Residents in other parts of Los Angeles are also watching the fire closely — particularly as it pertains to air quality. The forecast for the day is sunny and smoky, according to the South Coast Air Quality Management District, which has extended a smoke advisory for the 10th consecutive day.
California Photos: Bobcat fire rages in the Angeles National Forest Fears of a significant spread of the Bobcat fire dissipated as Santa Ana winds failed to materialize, but foothill communities remain on high alert.
Smoke from the West Coast’s wildfires has now reached as far as the East Coast and parts of Europe.
The Bobcat fire is one of more than two dozen fires currently burning in California and one of the 10 largest in terms of acres burned, according to the California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection , which is providing air support for the blaze.
While more firefighters have been added to battle the wildfire, Cal Fire officials said size is not a primary factor in resource allocation.
1 / 23 Brooks Hubbard with the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers takes photos from the historic North Broadway Bridge over the Los Angeles River Tuesday morning as smoke and ash from the Bobcat fire cloak the area. (Al Seib/Los Angeles Times) 2 / 23 Elijah Simpson practices shooting hoops against a backdrop of smokey skies from the Bobcat Fire at Angel’s Gate Park in the San Pedro on September 16, 2020. (Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times) 3 / 23 A helicopter fights the Bobcat fire burning dangerously close to Mt. Wilson Observatory. (Irfan Khan/Los Angeles Times) 4 / 23 An aerial view of Dodger Stadium and the downtown Los Angeles skyline at sunset is obscured by smoke, ash and smog on Sept. 14. (Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times) 5 / 23 Visitors check their photos at Griffith Observatory with a smoky view of the Hollywood sign behind them. (Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times) 6 / 23 Two people get ready to surf as a hazy red sun sets off Hermosa Beach. (Jay L. Clendenin/Los Angeles Times) 7 / 23 Smoke from the Bobcat fire burning in the Angeles National Forest blankets the Southland. (Al Seib/Los Angeles Times) 8 / 23 An airplane flies through smoky skies in downtown Los Angeles. (Dania Maxwell/Los Angeles Times) 9 / 23 A smoky haze envelopes Santa Monica Beach. (Jay L. Clendenin/Los Angeles Times) 10 / 23 Beachgoers walk along the shoreline in Laguna Beach beneath a hazy sky. (Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times) 11 / 23 A crow on a cypress tree in Garden Grove is silhouetted by a sun obscured by ash from Southland wildfires. (Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times) 12 / 23 The sky is gray over the Santa Monica Pier as a family plays in the breakwater. (Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times) 13 / 23 A man walks his dog past the historic lifeguard tower in Laguna Beach as the sun is obscured by smoke from wildfires. (Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times) 14 / 23 An upbeat message on the South Coast Cinemas marquee in Laguna Beach is dimmed by the smoky air. (Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times) 15 / 23 Surfers near the Manhattan Beach Pier under a smoky sunset. (Jay L. Clendenin/Los Angeles Times) 16 / 23 Gray skies over the Santa Monica Pier. (Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times) 17 / 23 A hazy sun is seen behind the Christ Cathedral in Garden Grove. (Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times) 18 / 23 Despite the unhealthful air quality, Fabian Ortez of Riverside enjoys an afternoon of fishing off the pier in Seal Beach. (Francine Orr/Los Angeles Times) 19 / 23 The Christ Cathedral in Garden Grove. (Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times) 20 / 23 A bicyclist travels along the 1st Street Bridge as smoke hovers east of downtown Los Angeles. (Gary Coronado / Los Angeles Times) 21 / 23 Haze from the Bobcat fire looms over Azusa as it burns in Angeles National Forest. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times) 22 / 23 The Los Angeles skyline is shrouded in smoke from the Bobcat fire as seen from the Griffith Observatory in Los Angeles. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times) 23 / 23 Haze from the Bobcat fire looms over Kare Park in Irwindale. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
“Resources usually go where life is at stake,” said Cal Fire spokeswoman Lynette Round. “Life is first, property is second, natural resources is third.”
More than 1,100 personnel are now assigned to the Bobcat fire — up from 652 a week ago — as the fire has crept closer to communities.
“We have personnel everywhere, from the north to the south,” Dantic said.
Evacuation orders for residents of Camp Williams in Azusa have been lifted, as have orders for parts of Arcadia and Sierra Madre north of Elkins Avenue and east of Santa Anita Avenue. Residents in those areas will be allowed to return beginning at 4 p.m. Wednesday. Evacuation warnings for Monrovia, Bradbury, Sierra Madre, Altadena, Duarte and Pasadena are still in effect.
The temporary closure of the Angeles National Forest, along with all national forests in California, has been extended until Sept. 21.


latimes--2020-09-16--Lynwood city manager on leave after social media post following Compton deputies  shooting

Lynwood ’ s city manager has been placed on paid administrative leave after he posted controversial content on social media regarding the shooting of two Los Angeles County sheriff ’ s deputies in nearby Compton .
Tuesday ’ s City Council decision regarding Jose Ometeotl , which the city said is “ pending an internal investigation , ” follows a post he apparently made on Instagram in response to Saturday ’ s shooting — when a man opened fire on a 31-year-old female deputy and a 24-year-old male deputy as they sat in their vehicle , shooting them in the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ deputies are recovering , and a manhunt for the suspect is ongoing .
The personal Instagram account identified as Ometeotl ’ s was no longer viewable Wednesday morning , but a screenshot of the post taken by a reporter for Fox 11 Los Angeles shows a photo of Malcolm X overlaid with the text “ Chickens come home to roost.
” The caption of the post read : “ The shooting of anyone is a wholly unacceptable occurrence in society .
I do not condone the type of violence seen in the shooting @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I will say that communities like Compton have been plagued by deputy gangs that inflict fear and violence in the community .
`` ... .The fact that someone randomly opened fire on deputies is to be expected in the society we live in today , ” the post continued .
“ The political climate and leadership of [ L.A. County ] Sheriff [ Alex ] Villanueva has only sowed the seeds of anger and frustration in the community .
I pray for the deputies and their families while still demanding justice for Andres @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Ahmaud Arbery.
” In a statement Sunday , the city of Lynwood said that Ometeotl ’ s comments were “ his personal opinions and don ’ t reflect the position of the Lynwood City Council.
” “ On behalf of the hard-working families of Lynwood , as well as the city ’ s employees and elected officials , we wish to send our heartfelt prayers to the families of the Los Angeles County sheriff ’ s deputies recently injured in the line of duty , ” the statement continued .
“ We @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s department to track down their attackers.
” The City Council has selected Community Development Director Michelle Ramirez to serve as acting city manager .

Lynwood’s city manager has been placed on paid administrative leave after he posted controversial content on social media regarding the shooting of two Los Angeles County sheriff’s deputies in nearby Compton.
Tuesday’s City Council decision regarding Jose Ometeotl, which the city said is “pending an internal investigation,” follows a post he apparently made on Instagram in response to Saturday’s shooting — when a man opened fire on a 31-year-old female deputy and a 24-year-old male deputy as they sat in their vehicle, shooting them in the face, head and arms.
The deputies are recovering, and a manhunt for the suspect is ongoing.
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The personal Instagram account identified as Ometeotl’s was no longer viewable Wednesday morning, but a screenshot of the post taken by a reporter for Fox 11 Los Angeles shows a photo of Malcolm X overlaid with the text “Chickens come home to roost.”
The caption of the post read: “The shooting of anyone is a wholly unacceptable occurrence in society. I do not condone the type of violence seen in the shooting of the deputies yesterday in Compton. I will say that communities like Compton have been plagued by deputy gangs that inflict fear and violence in the community.
”....The fact that someone randomly opened fire on deputies is to be expected in the society we live in today,” the post continued. “The political climate and leadership of [L.A. County] Sheriff [Alex] Villanueva has only sowed the seeds of anger and frustration in the community. I pray for the deputies and their families while still demanding justice for Andres Guardado, Breonna Taylor, Tamir Rice, Ahmaud Arbery.”
In a statement Sunday, the city of Lynwood said that Ometeotl’s comments were “his personal opinions and don’t reflect the position of the Lynwood City Council.”
“On behalf of the hard-working families of Lynwood, as well as the city’s employees and elected officials, we wish to send our heartfelt prayers to the families of the Los Angeles County sheriff’s deputies recently injured in the line of duty,” the statement continued. “We also support every effort by the sheriff’s department to track down their attackers.”
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The City Council has selected Community Development Director Michelle Ramirez to serve as acting city manager.
City News Service contributed to this report.


latimes--2020-09-16--Arellano: One family's COVID-19 nightmare shows the pandemic's unjust burden on Latinos in Californi

Arellano: One family's COVID-19 nightmare shows the pandemic's unjust burden on Latinos in California

Standing among barren shelves , empty bins and massive beer posters at Pancho ’ s Mini Market in a barrio near USC , Teresa Gonzalez had a simple message for anyone who still thinks the coronavirus is a joke .
“ Cuídense , ” the 63-year-old said , repeating it thrice .
Take care of yourselves .
“ It ’ s a sad reality , ” she continued in Spanish , as her daughter Mabel and granddaughter Camila nodded in wearied , masked agreement .
“ Look around us .
It destroyed our dream.
” Teresa and her husband , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ran this mercadito for nearly 30 years .
She was in charge of inventory ; he ran the register from 8 in the morning until 9 at night .
There were only five days since he acquired the store in 1991 that Pancho hadn ’ t shown up to work : Mabel ’ s high school and college graduations , her quinceañera and wedding and the kindergarten graduation of Camila a few years back .
But it was a blessed life .
Their long hours working for thin margins allowed the Mexican immigrants @ @ @ @ @ @ @ street from the family business to a nicer one in Montebello .
Pancho reveled in his role as a surrogate father to many of the teenage boys who popped in for soda and Takis and gladly helped older residents with answers to everything from how to pay utility bills to whom to call for immigration problems .
The nicknames customers had for him — Don Pancho , Panchito , even just Pancho ’ s Market — were all testaments of respect .
“ We ’ d always joke to the people around here @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ours , ’ ” Teresa said .
Then the coronavirus came .
Sales began to plummet in February as customers lost their jobs .
Pancho began to open mid-morning and even as late as noon for the first time ever .
He tried to make everyone feel at ease by mandating masks early on and took care to decontaminate himself every night before enjoying family time for a couple of hours .
But in mid-July , COVID-19 hit all four of the Gonzalezes .
But Pancho — who didn ’ t show any @ @ @ @ @ @ @ all at once — spent more than a month in the hospital .
A barrel-chested , regal man , the 63-year-old was left so weak that a task as simple as sipping soup with a plastic spoon leaves him exhausted .
Now in a nursing facility , he can muster a couple of minutes of FaceTime a day with his family , and not every day .
Lung scarring makes it hard to take full breaths .
Months of physical therapy loom ahead .
So in early August , Teresa closed Pancho ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
She cleared out most of the inventory as the month progressed , tossing the food that went bad and donating nearly everything else to people in need .
When she returned to show me the mercadito , all that remained in the coolers were a couple of cold cases of Modelo and a lonely can of Mickey ’ s malt liquor .
“ I ’ m happy he accepted [ the closure ] , ” Teresa said .
“ Because his life is the store.
” Her family has every right to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ All of us should feel the same .
What makes so many Latinos “ essential ” cogs in the ecosystem of jobs that help feed and serve America has put a big , fat crosshair for the coronavirus on our backs .
All of the public crises that threaten the California dream of housing , health , education and income are hitting us harder than other ethnic groups .
Coronavirus is the latest reckoning for Latinos in California — and yet again , we ’ re playing defense against an offensive scheme hell-bent @ @ @ @ @ @ @ were part of a food industry — from the fields to slaughterhouses to processing plants to restaurants and stores — in which Latinos are overrepresented .
These places have become petri dishes for the coronavirus .
And yet the tragedy of this slow-moving disaster — which will have wide-ranging repercussions on healthcare , education and social mobility for years to come — has yet to provoke large-scale expressions of anger , despite being a public scandal like few others .
Mabel is a teacher for Los Angeles Unified School District and now lectures @ @ @ @ @ @ @ because district officials don ’ t have a definite plan on how to safely reopen schools .
Nearby , in the living room , Camila , 8 , is one of millions of schoolchildren who must learn by squinting at a computer screen because our federal government couldn ’ t contain the coronavirus when it had a chance .
Will this be a lost year for children like her ?
By merely living their lives and carrying out their labor — often in demand , rarely appreciated — the Gonzalezes , like many @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with the coronavirus .
Data from the California Department of Public Health show that Latinos make up about 39 % of the state ’ s population but 60 % of COVID-19 cases and 48 % of deaths — far outpacing any other ethnic group in morbidity .
In Orange County , the majority Latino cities of Anaheim and Santa Ana — my hometown and where my wife runs her own small market — account for nearly 40 percent of all cases .
Friends on Facebook have revealed how they or someone they know @ @ @ @ @ @ @ take la corona seriously .
Experts blame a tragic trinity of causes : a preponderance of jobs that put Latinos in contact with strangers daily , a tradition of multi-generational households and high poverty rates .
If you ’ re Latino in California — even if , like me , you have the luxury of a white-collar job that grants you the privilege of working from home — it ’ s almost a certainty that COVID-19 will stalk the life of someone you love .
Maybe your mom .
Maybe dad .
An @ @ @ @ @ @ @ bestowed the bittersweet title of “ essential ” worker .
So I take it personally when protesters in Huntington Beach howl that mask mandates are tyranny , or when churches gather large flocks in defiance of stay-at-home ordinances — forgetting Matthew 18:20 , which lays out a humbler blueprint for what makes a house of God : “ For where two or three are gathered together in my name , there am I in the midst of them.
” COVID-19 skeptics practice that oldest of California sports : disregarding the lives of Latinos @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , more heavily than most , as abstractions , and their losses , in both deaths and economic progress , as a numeric inconvenience .
Every weekend , I hear the strains of banda or mariachi , or the wallop of a wooden stick on a piñata , as yet another family holds a fiesta down the street from my house .
A drive past a park reveals soccer games with unmasked players or taco trucks where customers line up with little thought toward social distancing .
I take that personally , too @ @ @ @ @ @ @ supremacy for the disproportionate impact of the coronavirus without also calling out ourselves .
We should know better — yet we often don ’ t .
No excuses .
Couple that with a traditional skepticism toward government diktats worthy of a Trump caravan , and that ’ s why Teresa wants to especially remind Latinos : Cuídense .
“ I ’ ve heard our own gente say that it ’ s just a gripita [ a little flu ] , ” she said , shaking her head .
“ It ’ s not @ @ @ @ @ @ @ assassins of your parents or children if you ’ re not careful.
” “ Disbelief is going to stop when it hits your family , ” added Mabel .
“ That ’ s when we finally get responsible.
” She said it with a tone much like her mother ’ s : not accusatory , but with a serenity that was almost preternatural .
What keeps the two from despair is their Catholic faith .
The Gonzalezes are parishioners at St. Benedict Church in Montebello .
Near the entrance to Pancho ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ faded images of the Archangel Michael and San Martin Caballero , staples of Latino small businesses .
“ When I came back to start emptying the store , ” she said , “ I told God , ‘ You gave it to me , and I received it with much joy .
Today , I return it to you with the same joy that I received it the day that you let me borrow it.
’ ” The Gonzalez women are trying to focus on the positive in the face of an uncertain @ @ @ @ @ @ @ family who brought food to their doorstep while she , Mabel , and Camila were quarantined “ were such a marvel of love.
” Camila looks forward to the day that Ato — her nickname for Pancho — returns home from the nursing facility .
The Gonzalezes show that despite all this tragedy , we not only can survive but can plunge ahead into a murky future with confidence and hope .
And never alone .
Even as she and her mom closed the outdoor scissor gates to the store for perhaps the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ good in life .
“ Oh look , ” she said as she pointed at the glass door .
“ Someone tagged something for my dad.
” In pink paint marker were the words “ Get well Pancho.
” Outside the mercadito , customers — all masked — passed by and offered condolences .
“ He ’ s a nice man , ” said Antonio Monroy , who rents an apartment above Pancho ’ s .
“ It ’ s sad for us .
What are we going to do without him ?
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ down the street and strolled by just after the Gonzalezes left .
He asked me when Pancho ’ s would open again , and he needed a moment after I told him the news .
“ It ’ s hard , ” Arriola finally said , angling his body under the shade of a utility pole .
“ Work all your life for something , and lose it all in a moment.
” The condolences have continued .
Friends have raised more than $ 12,000 on GoFundMe to help with expenses .
Customers @ @ @ @ @ @ @ photos of themselves inside the store .
One guy even tattooed a detailed image of the corner where Pancho ’ s Mini Market stands onto his shoulder .
And Pancho is slowly but surely improving .
He recently gained 11 pounds in a week and was able to stand by himself for three seconds .
A photo Mabel sent me of her papi shows Pancho far skinnier than he was but with the same impressive mustache and a smile brighter than a diamond .
The coronavirus has destroyed the dreams of this typical @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s not going to stop them .

Teresa Gonzalez, left, with granddaughter Camila, 8, and daughter Mabel, FaceTime with Gonzalez’s husband, Francisco, while he recuperates from COVID-19.
Standing among barren shelves, empty bins and massive beer posters at Pancho’s Mini Market in a barrio near USC, Teresa Gonzalez had a simple message for anyone who still thinks the coronavirus is a joke.
“Cuídense,” the 63-year-old said, repeating it thrice. Take care of yourselves.
“It’s a sad reality,” she continued in Spanish, as her daughter Mabel and granddaughter Camila nodded in wearied, masked agreement. “Look around us. It destroyed our dream.”
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Teresa and her husband, Francisco — universally known as Pancho — ran this mercadito for nearly 30 years. She was in charge of inventory; he ran the register from 8 in the morning until 9 at night. There were only five days since he acquired the store in 1991 that Pancho hadn’t shown up to work: Mabel’s high school and college graduations, her quinceañera and wedding and the kindergarten graduation of Camila a few years back.
But it was a blessed life.
Their long hours working for thin margins allowed the Mexican immigrants to move from a house down the street from the family business to a nicer one in Montebello. Pancho reveled in his role as a surrogate father to many of the teenage boys who popped in for soda and Takis and gladly helped older residents with answers to everything from how to pay utility bills to whom to call for immigration problems.
The nicknames customers had for him — Don Pancho, Panchito, even just Pancho’s Market — were all testaments of respect.
“We’d always joke to the people around here, ‘Pancho is more yours than ours,’” Teresa said.
Then the coronavirus came.
Sales began to plummet in February as customers lost their jobs. Pancho began to open mid-morning and even as late as noon for the first time ever. He tried to make everyone feel at ease by mandating masks early on and took care to decontaminate himself every night before enjoying family time for a couple of hours.
Advertisement
But in mid-July, COVID-19 hit all four of the Gonzalezes.
Teresa, Mabel and Camila quickly recovered.
But Pancho — who didn’t show any symptoms, until he seemingly had them all at once — spent more than a month in the hospital. A barrel-chested, regal man, the 63-year-old was left so weak that a task as simple as sipping soup with a plastic spoon leaves him exhausted.
Now in a nursing facility, he can muster a couple of minutes of FaceTime a day with his family, and not every day. Lung scarring makes it hard to take full breaths. Months of physical therapy loom ahead.
So in early August, Teresa closed Pancho’s for good, at his request.
The Gonzalez family speaks with Francisco, who was hospitalized July 13 and remained there for 51 days. The family was forced to close their mini market in Los Angeles. (Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)
She cleared out most of the inventory as the month progressed, tossing the food that went bad and donating nearly everything else to people in need. When she returned to show me the mercadito, all that remained in the coolers were a couple of cold cases of Modelo and a lonely can of Mickey’s malt liquor.
“I’m happy he accepted [the closure],” Teresa said. “Because his life is the store.”
Her family has every right to be angry, hurt, sad.
All of us should feel the same.
What makes so many Latinos “essential” cogs in the ecosystem of jobs that help feed and serve America has put a big, fat crosshair for the coronavirus on our backs.
We’re hurting — again.
All of the public crises that threaten the California dream of housing, health, education and income are hitting us harder than other ethnic groups. Coronavirus is the latest reckoning for Latinos in California — and yet again, we’re playing defense against an offensive scheme hell-bent on breaking us.
Pancho and Teresa were part of a food industry — from the fields to slaughterhouses to processing plants to restaurants and stores — in which Latinos are overrepresented. These places have become petri dishes for the coronavirus. And yet the tragedy of this slow-moving disaster — which will have wide-ranging repercussions on healthcare, education and social mobility for years to come — has yet to provoke large-scale expressions of anger, despite being a public scandal like few others.
Mabel is a teacher for Los Angeles Unified School District and now lectures from the family’s dining room because district officials don’t have a definite plan on how to safely reopen schools.
Nearby, in the living room, Camila, 8, is one of millions of schoolchildren who must learn by squinting at a computer screen because our federal government couldn’t contain the coronavirus when it had a chance. Will this be a lost year for children like her?
By merely living their lives and carrying out their labor — often in demand, rarely appreciated — the Gonzalezes, like many Latinos, seemed fated to cross paths with the coronavirus.
Data from the California Department of Public Health show that Latinos make up about 39% of the state’s population but 60% of COVID-19 cases and 48% of deaths — far outpacing any other ethnic group in morbidity.
In Orange County, the majority Latino cities of Anaheim and Santa Ana — my hometown and where my wife runs her own small market — account for nearly 40 percent of all cases. Friends on Facebook have revealed how they or someone they know had contracted COVID-19 and implore everyone to take la corona seriously.
Experts blame a tragic trinity of causes: a preponderance of jobs that put Latinos in contact with strangers daily, a tradition of multi-generational households and high poverty rates.
If you’re Latino in California — even if, like me, you have the luxury of a white-collar job that grants you the privilege of working from home — it’s almost a certainty that COVID-19 will stalk the life of someone you love. Maybe your mom. Maybe dad. An uncle, an aunt. A sibling bestowed the bittersweet title of “essential” worker.
So I take it personally when protesters in Huntington Beach howl that mask mandates are tyranny, or when churches gather large flocks in defiance of stay-at-home ordinances — forgetting Matthew 18:20, which lays out a humbler blueprint for what makes a house of God: “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.”
COVID-19 skeptics practice that oldest of California sports: disregarding the lives of Latinos by treating the crucibles Latinos must endure, more heavily than most, as abstractions, and their losses, in both deaths and economic progress, as a numeric inconvenience.
And yet …
Every weekend, I hear the strains of banda or mariachi, or the wallop of a wooden stick on a piñata, as yet another family holds a fiesta down the street from my house. A drive past a park reveals soccer games with unmasked players or taco trucks where customers line up with little thought toward social distancing.
I take that personally, too.
Latinos can’t blame white supremacy for the disproportionate impact of the coronavirus without also calling out ourselves. We should know better — yet we often don’t. No excuses.
Couple that with a traditional skepticism toward government diktats worthy of a Trump caravan, and that’s why Teresa wants to especially remind Latinos: Cuídense.
“I’ve heard our own gente say that it’s just a gripita [a little flu],” she said, shaking her head. “It’s not a game. You can be the assassins of your parents or children if you’re not careful.”
“Disbelief is going to stop when it hits your family,” added Mabel. “That’s when we finally get responsible.”
She said it with a tone much like her mother’s: not accusatory, but with a serenity that was almost preternatural.
What keeps the two from despair is their Catholic faith. The Gonzalezes are parishioners at St. Benedict Church in Montebello. Near the entrance to Pancho’s Mini Market, Teresa has kept up faded images of the Archangel Michael and San Martin Caballero, staples of Latino small businesses.
“When I came back to start emptying the store,” she said, “I told God, ‘You gave it to me, and I received it with much joy. Today, I return it to you with the same joy that I received it the day that you let me borrow it.’”
The Gonzalez women are trying to focus on the positive in the face of an uncertain future. Teresa said the friends and family who brought food to their doorstep while she, Mabel, and Camila were quarantined “were such a marvel of love.” Camila looks forward to the day that Ato — her nickname for Pancho — returns home from the nursing facility.
Francisco Gonzalez is recuperating from COVID-19 in a skilled nursing facility in Montebello. (Gonzalez Family)
The Gonzalezes show that despite all this tragedy, we not only can survive but can plunge ahead into a murky future with confidence and hope.
And never alone.
Even as she and her mom closed the outdoor scissor gates to the store for perhaps the final time, Mabel looked for the good in life.
“Oh look,” she said as she pointed at the glass door. “Someone tagged something for my dad.”
In pink paint marker were the words “Get well Pancho.”
Outside the mercadito, customers — all masked — passed by and offered condolences.
“He’s a nice man,” said Antonio Monroy, who rents an apartment above Pancho’s. “It’s sad for us. What are we going to do without him?”
Porfirio Arriola, 69, lives down the street and strolled by just after the Gonzalezes left. He asked me when Pancho’s would open again, and he needed a moment after I told him the news.
“It’s hard,” Arriola finally said, angling his body under the shade of a utility pole. “Work all your life for something, and lose it all in a moment.”
The condolences have continued. Friends have raised more than $12,000 on GoFundMe to help with expenses. Customers have flooded Mabel’s inbox with photos of themselves inside the store. One guy even tattooed a detailed image of the corner where Pancho’s Mini Market stands onto his shoulder.
And Pancho is slowly but surely improving. He recently gained 11 pounds in a week and was able to stand by himself for three seconds. A photo Mabel sent me of her papi shows Pancho far skinnier than he was but with the same impressive mustache and a smile brighter than a diamond.
The coronavirus has destroyed the dreams of this typical Latino family in California. But it’s not going to stop them.
Because nothing can.


latimes--2020-09-16--Column: Wherever there's a fight for California's future, this Mexican nerd will be there

I snaked my Yukon past funerals and tombstones at Pacific View Memorial Park in Corona del Mar .
At its summit was my destination : the Alcove of Time .
There , in a small mausoleum niche on the bottom row of a wall full of them , were the cremains of pioneering Los Angeles Times reporter Ruben Salazar .
On Aug. 29 , 1970 , he covered the Chicano Moratorium , an anti-Vietnam War rally in East Los Angeles .
Lawmen broke up what had been a peaceful afternoon with clubs and bullets ; protesters responded with soda bottles @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Silver Dollar Cafe to wait out the chaos with a beer .
Instead , a sheriff ’ s deputy shot a tear-gas canister into the bar that hit the reporter ’ s head , killing him instantly .
Memorials soon sprung up for Salazar , whose reporting on Southern California ’ s Mexican American community gave voice to the voiceless and launched a new journalism genre .
But there is no hint of this legacy at Salazar ’ s final resting place .
A cast-iron plaque decorated with an hourglass and olive branches @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Father ” and lists the date of his birth and death .
That ’ s it .
There is no nook to leave flowers or mementos or anything .
So I came with a gift : a bottle of Manzanilla wine .
Salazar was a bon vivant who enjoyed French food and good drinks , a reality far removed from the martyrdom fans have affixed on him .
He was a man who defied expectations , even as his heart was always with los olvidados — the forgotten ones — of society .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Earlier that day , The Times announced I would be its latest Latino news columnist — the first in nearly eight years , and only the sixth in its 139-year history .
This , in a city where we ’ re nearly the majority .
In a state where we ’ re already the plurality .
The response was overwhelmingly positive ; the expectations , rightfully huge .
“ Guide me , ” I asked Ruben .
I offered a toast , poured a splash of the dry Spanish wine on the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and then took a swig myself .
A sea breeze cut through the muggy morning air as I headed back to my Yukon .
Then I remembered my good manners .
I returned to Ruben ’ s niche , wiped down the puddle of Manzanilla in front of him , and went off to work .
For nearly 13 years , I wrote a column called ¡Ask a Mexican !
, where I mocked the very idea of a “ Latino columnist.
” You know : those well-meaning scribes who try to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ talked to Latinos , everything would be chido ( Mexico City slang for “ copacetic ” ) .
I felt such pundits were antiquated and too apologetic .
Because I never thought of myself as a minority who needed to be understood .
Because I knew who I was .
Throughout my 20-year journalism career , I ’ ve navigated a gantlet of editors and readers who tried to pigeonhole and tokenize me as they had too many Latino reporters past and present .
I wrote about Latinos , yes , but in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ norm instead of some exotic interloper in the Southern California story .
And I also wrote about other things .
Because that ’ s who I am .
I ’ m the Southern California-born son of immigrants from the state of Zacatecas , the Iowa of Mexico .
One picked garlic in Gilroy as a 9-year-old ; the other came to this country in the trunk of a Chevy .
They raised a nerdy son who spoke Spanish when he entered kindergarten and is now the black sheep in a family of public-sector @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a writer .
But I ’ m also the schmear of Yiddish in my daily speech , a fan of Middle Eastern food and Cambodian acid rock , and all the other parts of Southern Californian culture that make our collective identity as deliciously jumbled as the chili cheese fries at Tommy ’ s .
That ’ s what I plan to bring to this column .
I want to show who we were , are , and becoming , as Californians .
And I ’ m the right person in this moment @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Precisely because I happen to be Latino .
Trouble paying rent ?
Keeping your hard-fought gains ?
With a fear that the good times can quickly end that now sways over your days like palm trees ?
Welcome to the life that Latinos have been living in California since 1848 .
But the flip side of that fatalism is resilience .
Pluck .
Mañana as a promise , not an excuse .
And a willingness to fight for lo bueno — the good .
It ’ s a battle plan that has @ @ @ @ @ @ @ over 170 years .
So it ’ s about high time everyone else listens to us .
But not me .
You shouldn ’ t care about what I ’ ll tell you ; you should care about what I ’ ll show ustedes ( that ’ s “ y ’ all ” in Spanish ) .
So instead of pontificating from behind a desk , I ’ ll be where the action is .
At strawberry fields and downtown protests , classrooms and tejuino stands .
In East Los Angeles , Riverside @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ ll talk to people whom I want to champion , people with whom I ’ ll agree to disagree , and people who deserve an FBI investigation .
I want to do a bit of everything in this column , which will appear about once a week — sometimes more , sometimes less .
Expect triumphs and tragedies .
Long pieces .
Profiles .
Investigations .
History .
Politics .
The economy .
Even the occasional food review .
To try and write as the voice for a particular group of people @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The world doesn ’ t need another self-appointed savior .
To write as a voice gives you a shot to help those you truly care for .
So I write as myself .
Think of me as a Mexican Tom Joad : Wherever there ’ s a fight for our future , I ’ ll be there — wearing a mask and socially distant for a while , of course .

I snaked my Yukon past funerals and tombstones at Pacific View Memorial Park in Corona del Mar. At its summit was my destination: the Alcove of Time.
There, in a small mausoleum niche on the bottom row of a wall full of them, were the cremains of pioneering Los Angeles Times reporter Ruben Salazar.
On Aug. 29, 1970, he covered the Chicano Moratorium, an anti-Vietnam War rally in East Los Angeles. Lawmen broke up what had been a peaceful afternoon with clubs and bullets; protesters responded with soda bottles and fists.
Advertisement
Salazar ducked into the Silver Dollar Cafe to wait out the chaos with a beer. Instead, a sheriff’s deputy shot a tear-gas canister into the bar that hit the reporter’s head, killing him instantly.
Memorials soon sprung up for Salazar, whose reporting on Southern California’s Mexican American community gave voice to the voiceless and launched a new journalism genre.
But there is no hint of this legacy at Salazar’s final resting place.
A cast-iron plaque decorated with an hourglass and olive branches reads “Rubén Salazar Beloved Husband and Father” and lists the date of his birth and death. That’s it. There is no nook to leave flowers or mementos or anything.
So I came with a gift: a bottle of Manzanilla wine.
Salazar was a bon vivant who enjoyed French food and good drinks, a reality far removed from the martyrdom fans have affixed on him. He was a man who defied expectations, even as his heart was always with los olvidados — the forgotten ones — of society.
I came to ask for a blessing. Earlier that day, The Times announced I would be its latest Latino news columnist — the first in nearly eight years, and only the sixth in its 139-year history.
Advertisement
This, in a city where we’re nearly the majority. In a state where we’re already the plurality.
The response was overwhelmingly positive; the expectations, rightfully huge.
“Guide me,” I asked Ruben. I offered a toast, poured a splash of the dry Spanish wine on the floor directly in front of his niche, and then took a swig myself.
A sea breeze cut through the muggy morning air as I headed back to my Yukon. Then I remembered my good manners.
I returned to Ruben’s niche, wiped down the puddle of Manzanilla in front of him, and went off to work.
**
So, um, yeah. No pressure.
Hola! I’m your latest Los Angeles Times Latino columnist.
A 2012 photo of Gustavo Arellano, then editor of the OC Weekly and author of the syndicated ¡Ask a Mexican! column. (Arkasha Stevenson / Los Angeles Times)
For nearly 13 years, I wrote a column called ¡Ask a Mexican!, where I mocked the very idea of a “Latino columnist.” You know: those well-meaning scribes who try to convince white readers that if they just talked to Latinos, everything would be chido (Mexico City slang for “copacetic”).
I felt such pundits were antiquated and too apologetic. Because I never thought of myself as a minority who needed to be understood.
Because I knew who I was.
Throughout my 20-year journalism career, I’ve navigated a gantlet of editors and readers who tried to pigeonhole and tokenize me as they had too many Latino reporters past and present.
Instead, I tokenized myself.
I wrote about Latinos, yes, but in a way that centered us as the norm instead of some exotic interloper in the Southern California story.
And I also wrote about other things.
Because that’s who I am.
I’m the Southern California-born son of immigrants from the state of Zacatecas, the Iowa of Mexico. One picked garlic in Gilroy as a 9-year-old; the other came to this country in the trunk of a Chevy.
They raised a nerdy son who spoke Spanish when he entered kindergarten and is now the black sheep in a family of public-sector siblings — because I decided to become a writer.
But I’m also the schmear of Yiddish in my daily speech, a fan of Middle Eastern food and Cambodian acid rock, and all the other parts of Southern Californian culture that make our collective identity as deliciously jumbled as the chili cheese fries at Tommy’s.
That’s what I plan to bring to this column.
I want to show who we were, are, and becoming, as Californians. And I’m the right person in this moment to tell these tales as a columnist.
Precisely because I happen to be Latino.
Trouble paying rent? Keeping your hard-fought gains? With a fear that the good times can quickly end that now sways over your days like palm trees?
Welcome to the life that Latinos have been living in California since 1848.
But the flip side of that fatalism is resilience. Pluck. Mañana as a promise, not an excuse.
And a willingness to fight for lo bueno — the good.
It’s a battle plan that has guided and sustained Latinos in California for over 170 years.
So it’s about high time everyone else listens to us.
But not me.
You shouldn’t care about what I’ll tell you; you should care about what I’ll show ustedes (that’s “y’all” in Spanish).
So instead of pontificating from behind a desk, I’ll be where the action is. At strawberry fields and downtown protests, classrooms and tejuino stands. In East Los Angeles, Riverside, Orange County and beyond. I’ll talk to people whom I want to champion, people with whom I’ll agree to disagree, and people who deserve an FBI investigation.
I want to do a bit of everything in this column, which will appear about once a week — sometimes more, sometimes less. Expect triumphs and tragedies. Long pieces. Profiles. Investigations. History. Politics. The economy. Even the occasional food review.
And I’ll write with expectations.
But only mine.
To try and write as the voice for a particular group of people is a guaranteed failure and presumptuous. The world doesn’t need another self-appointed savior.
To write as a voice gives you a shot to help those you truly care for.
So I write as myself.
A zacatecano.
A nerd.
A columnist. A reporter, always.
A Southern Californian, reporting for duty.
Think of me as a Mexican Tom Joad: Wherever there’s a fight for our future, I’ll be there — wearing a mask and socially distant for a while, of course.


latimes--2020-09-16--Why didn't these L.A. hotels house homeless people? A new report offers some answers

When Los Angeles city and county officials reached out to local hotels , hoping to lease rooms through a new program meant to help homeless people survive the COVID-19 pandemic , they ran into a host of concerns .
One downtown hotel was worried about how participating in the program , Project Roomkey , would affect its brand , according to a report issued this week by a city analyst .
Several hotels said they were already housing medical workers , police officers or both .
And one was prepared to participate until a company , one that made up @ @ @ @ @ @ @ threatened to pull out of the hotel if homeless people moved in , according to the two-page report .
The report , prepared by the city ’ s chief legislative analyst and based on information provided by negotiators for Los Angeles County and Mayor Eric Garcetti , sheds light on some of the challenges encountered by government officials as they tried to secure rooms for Project Roomkey , a program meant to help medically vulnerable people living on the streets during the pandemic .
So far , roughly 4,100 people have been housed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ far short of the program ’ s 15,000-person goal .
The city ’ s report focused only on hotels in L.A. that received taxpayer assistance or were built on sites currently or formerly owned by the city or its former redevelopment agency .
None took part in Project Roomkey .
According to the report , some of the hotels were involved in other programs during the COVID-19 pandemic , such as housing medical personnel .
Some were deemed to have logistical issues , such as elevators that increased infection risk .
And some @ @ @ @ @ @ @ interest .
Jon Vein , who negotiated some of the Project Roomkey agreements on Garcetti ’ s behalf , said the vast majority of the hotels he dealt with were “ trying to do the right thing ” and searching for ways to participate .
Still , he said , there were also “ bad actors , ” whom he declined to name .
In one case , a lender threatened to pull its financing if the hotel moved ahead with Project Roomkey , he said .
In another , a company that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that they did not want any of the hotels that they managed to house homeless people , ” said Vein , who sits on the city ’ s convention and tourism commission and worked on Project Roomkey in a volunteer capacity .
The report had been sought by Councilmen Mike Bonin and Marqueece Harris-Dawson , who argued that hotels that received taxpayer subsidies should have been participating in the program .
“ The broader issue that this helps inform is , why hasn ’ t Project Roomkey been more successful ?
” Bonin @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the part of the hotels ?
... Too much bureaucracy ?
Too many rules ?
And honestly , it sounds like all of the above.
” Heather Rozman , executive director of the Hotel Assn .
of Los Angeles , said local hotels worked with government officials to house healthcare workers and those with COVID-19 , among others .
But they found the contracting process for Project Roomkey “ extremely complex , ” she said , and struggled to get answers on when and how the program would conclude .
“ With this @ @ @ @ @ @ @ obtain approvals from various stakeholders , including lenders and insurance companies , ” Rozman said .
“ This made it difficult for some hoteliers to be able to sign contracts.
” A corporate spokeswoman for Omni Hotels & Resorts did not respond to messages from The Times seeking comment on the report , which stated that the Omni Los Angeles had concerns about Project Roomkey affecting its brand .
The Millennium Biltmore , which was described as being close to a deal on Project Roomkey until an unnamed company threatened to pull its @ @ @ @ @ @ @ messages .
But Vein , the city commissioner , said the Biltmore spent weeks working on an agreement , only to have an airline company threaten to cancel its business with the hotel if Project Roomkey came in .
“ That put them in a difficult situation , ” said Vein , who declined to name the company .
The city report indicated that if a hotel was continuing to serve the public , providing rooms to medical personnel or had permanent tenants , it was “ generally not eligible to participate in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hotel complex at L.A. Live , which did not take part , has “ many full-time residents , ” the report said .
Christopher Yee , spokesman for the Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority , said Project Roomkey sought to lease entire hotels so that medically vulnerable homeless people were not put at risk by other guests who were not observing the same protocols .
For negotiators , that meant focusing on empty hotels or those large enough that populations could be kept in separate wings of a building , Vein said .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ for the lease agreements with hotels , paying an average nightly rate of $ 94.23 per room , or roughly $ 120 in the downtown area , according to a recent report .
Project Roomkey sites provide meals and medical monitoring and are staffed around the clock with site managers , security and case managers .
The city ’ s report did not say how much taxpayer money had been provided to the 12 hotel properties , which were assisted between 1973 and 2015 .
City Controller Ron Galperin reported two years ago @ @ @ @ @ @ @ $ 1 billion in subsidies , much of it for hotels , since 2005 .
Throughout the summer , activists have voiced alarm about dangerous conditions facing homeless Angelenos — first coronavirus , then extreme heat and , now , smoke .
The Los Angeles County Coroner ’ s office reported Tuesday that heat exposure had contributed to the deaths of at least three people believed to be homeless , two in Los Angeles , over the Labor Day weekend .
Jed Parriott , an organizer with Street Watch L.A. , repeated the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ city seize hotels to house homeless people instead of negotiating with willing owners .
Most of the subsidized hotels , he said , are located downtown , not far from “ the epicenter of homelessness : skid row.
” “ The excuses are unacceptable during this human rights crisis , ” Parriott said .

Two hotels at L.A. Live, the downtown entertainment complex, did not take part in Project Roomkey. A report looked at why some hotels did not participate.
When Los Angeles city and county officials reached out to local hotels, hoping to lease rooms through a new program meant to help homeless people survive the COVID-19 pandemic, they ran into a host of concerns.
One downtown hotel was worried about how participating in the program, Project Roomkey, would affect its brand, according to a report issued this week by a city analyst.
Several hotels said they were already housing medical workers, police officers or both. And one was prepared to participate until a company, one that made up a major portion of its business, threatened to pull out of the hotel if homeless people moved in, according to the two-page report.
The report, prepared by the city’s chief legislative analyst and based on information provided by negotiators for Los Angeles County and Mayor Eric Garcetti, sheds light on some of the challenges encountered by government officials as they tried to secure rooms for Project Roomkey, a program meant to help medically vulnerable people living on the streets during the pandemic.
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So far, roughly 4,100 people have been housed in hotels across Los Angeles County, far short of the program’s 15,000-person goal. The city’s report focused only on hotels in L.A. that received taxpayer assistance or were built on sites currently or formerly owned by the city or its former redevelopment agency. None took part in Project Roomkey.
According to the report, some of the hotels were involved in other programs during the COVID-19 pandemic, such as housing medical personnel. Some were deemed to have logistical issues, such as elevators that increased infection risk. And some gave no reason for their lack of interest.
Jon Vein, who negotiated some of the Project Roomkey agreements on Garcetti’s behalf, said the vast majority of the hotels he dealt with were “trying to do the right thing” and searching for ways to participate.
Still, he said, there were also “bad actors,” whom he declined to name.
In one case, a lender threatened to pull its financing if the hotel moved ahead with Project Roomkey, he said. In another, a company that managed several hotels “was very clear that they did not want any of the hotels that they managed to house homeless people,” said Vein, who sits on the city’s convention and tourism commission and worked on Project Roomkey in a volunteer capacity.
The report had been sought by Councilmen Mike Bonin and Marqueece Harris-Dawson, who argued that hotels that received taxpayer subsidies should have been participating in the program.
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“The broader issue that this helps inform is, why hasn’t Project Roomkey been more successful?” Bonin said. “Is it unwillingness on the part of the hotels? ... Too much bureaucracy? Too many rules? And honestly, it sounds like all of the above.”
The Millennium Biltmore Los Angeles did not participate in Project Roomkey after a company threatened to pull its business from the hotel, according to a city report. (Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)
Heather Rozman, executive director of the Hotel Assn. of Los Angeles, said local hotels worked with government officials to house healthcare workers and those with COVID-19, among others. But they found the contracting process for Project Roomkey “extremely complex,” she said, and struggled to get answers on when and how the program would conclude.
“With this limited information, hotels had to then obtain approvals from various stakeholders, including lenders and insurance companies,” Rozman said. “This made it difficult for some hoteliers to be able to sign contracts.”
A corporate spokeswoman for Omni Hotels & Resorts did not respond to messages from The Times seeking comment on the report, which stated that the Omni Los Angeles had concerns about Project Roomkey affecting its brand.
The Millennium Biltmore, which was described as being close to a deal on Project Roomkey until an unnamed company threatened to pull its business, also did not reply to messages. But Vein, the city commissioner, said the Biltmore spent weeks working on an agreement, only to have an airline company threaten to cancel its business with the hotel if Project Roomkey came in.
“That put them in a difficult situation,” said Vein, who declined to name the company.
The city report indicated that if a hotel was continuing to serve the public, providing rooms to medical personnel or had permanent tenants, it was “generally not eligible to participate in the program.” For example, the hotel complex at L.A. Live, which did not take part, has “many full-time residents,” the report said.
Christopher Yee, spokesman for the Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority, said Project Roomkey sought to lease entire hotels so that medically vulnerable homeless people were not put at risk by other guests who were not observing the same protocols. For negotiators, that meant focusing on empty hotels or those large enough that populations could be kept in separate wings of a building, Vein said.
L.A. has used state funding to pay for the lease agreements with hotels, paying an average nightly rate of $94.23 per room, or roughly $120 in the downtown area, according to a recent report. Project Roomkey sites provide meals and medical monitoring and are staffed around the clock with site managers, security and case managers.
The city’s report did not say how much taxpayer money had been provided to the 12 hotel properties, which were assisted between 1973 and 2015. City Controller Ron Galperin reported two years ago that the council had signed off on $1 billion in subsidies, much of it for hotels, since 2005.
Throughout the summer, activists have voiced alarm about dangerous conditions facing homeless Angelenos — first coronavirus, then extreme heat and, now, smoke. The Los Angeles County Coroner’s office reported Tuesday that heat exposure had contributed to the deaths of at least three people believed to be homeless, two in Los Angeles, over the Labor Day weekend.
Jed Parriott, an organizer with Street Watch L.A., repeated the activist group’s demand that the city seize hotels to house homeless people instead of negotiating with willing owners. Most of the subsidized hotels, he said, are located downtown, not far from “the epicenter of homelessness: skid row.”
“The excuses are unacceptable during this human rights crisis,” Parriott said.


latimes--2020-09-16--In California town lost to fire, this market was lifeline. Can Berry Creek recover?

The Bear fire was burning in the mountains of Butte County , devouring acres of land and belching out black smoke as it inched toward Berry Creek and other communities in the area .
More than 40 miles away in Chico , Carin Dorghalli had trouble sleeping .
The 26-year-old journalist had been covering the fire for the Chico Enterprise-Record .
While in the field , she managed to check up on the family business — the Village Market .
It was the only gas station and convenience store in the area .
Her father had purchased it 2006 and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from Syria .
For residents , the store was a lifeline and a community gathering spot , especially after the 2018 fire disaster in nearby Paradise , when the Village Market was one of the few stores that stayed open .
But when Dorghalli arrived at the store in the early hours of Sept. 10 , she found the store leveled and smoldering .
The fire had swept through the area , consuming cars , homes and trees .
Ash and embers fell from the sky as if it were snowing .
Dorghalli @ @ @ @ @ @ @ cry .
Two years ago , “ my dad and cousin did everything they could to keep it open , ” Dorghalli recalled .
Now the fate of the family business was far from certain , as was the future of Berry Creek .
California fires have destroyed thousands of homes this year , but they ’ ve also taken numerous small businesses , many of them lifelines for rural communities .
Many more are at risk amid what could become California ’ s worst fire season ever .
A firestorm moved through @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ago .
killing at least 15 people and destroying more than 720 structures , including two schools .
In this remote region , it was the market that bought people together and has raised hopes that , if rebuilt , it could be a focal point for recovery .
As of Tuesday evening , the North Complex fire had burned more than 270,000 acres and was 34 % contained .
While scores of West Coast fires are burning from California to British Columbia , the conflagrations in Butte County have been the deadliest @ @ @ @ @ @ @ state ’ s biggest fire is the August Complex , which by Tuesday had burned more than 790,000 acres in Northern California ’ s coastal range .
Far to the south , the Bobcat fire in the Angeles National Forest was much smaller , at 36,000 acres , but was threatening the Mt .
Wilson Observatory and adding to plumes of smoke fouling the Los Angeles basin .
In Berry Creek , longtime residents lamented the loss of the Village Market , curious if the family would rebuild or not .
“ People @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Kathy Bartley , 62 , a resident of Berry Creek for 25 years .
“ It ’ s just sad .
The story of the Dorghallis begins in 1988 , when Mitch Dorghalli migrated to the United States with his siblings from Fairouzeh , a village about 100 miles from Damascus , the capital of Syria .
He landed in Detroit where his brother lived and worked at a convenience store , saving money where he could .
In 1989 , he moved to Chico , Calif. , where his sister lived .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ store , saving money in hope of starting his own business one day .
In 1992 , Mitch Dorghalli was introduced to his future wife , Rana .
She had lived in Homs , three miles away from his village in Syria .
She was attending a local university , majoring in English when her parents decided to migrate to the U.S. that year .
As with most immigrants , life in the U.S. was challenging for the couple .
They had to improve their English , adapt to American customs and deal @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , aware they had opportunities here they did not have back home .
In 1992 , the couple married and moved to Oroville , where a year later Mitch Dorghalli purchased Jerry ’ s Market .
In 1994 , the couple would give birth to the first of three children .
They named her Carin .
For years , Carin Dorghalli ’ s father tried to balance life at home and work .
“ He would work 80 hours a week , ” Dorghalli said .
“ Customers saw him more than I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and confusing thing for her .
But as she grew older , she came to understand the family ’ s success was tied to the store .
The business offered an opportunity for a better life .
It would help pay for her college tuition at Cal State Chico .
It also helped pay for her brothers ’ college tuitions .
“ I think my feelings were valid , ” she said .
“ When you ’ re younger you don ’ t know how difficult things can be .
We ’ ve @ @ @ @ @ @ @ those things because my parents made sure we never had to.
” In 2006 , Dorghalli purchased the Village Market in Berry Creek , serving the town and several communities nearby .
Her cousin , George Dorghalli , managed the store .
This week , many of George Dorghalli ’ s customers recalled his generosity and care for the community .
Bartley , who has been living in a motel since evacuating , said he would sometimes give credit to people who couldn ’ t afford to pay for items .
“ He @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that you came into his store , ” Bartley recalled .
“ He was such a very outgoing guy.
” Josh and Samantha Jarrell said when Mitch and George Dorghalli took over the store they brought in more food options .
They added a microwave so if people purchased frozen dinners and didn ’ t have electricity at their homes , they could use the one in their store .
They let people charge their telephones at the store and would offer free ice to certain people who needed it .
“ There @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to sell or look for things , ” Josh Jarrell said .
What made the store special was their interaction with the Dorghallis , especially with George .
“ George was very community-oriented and always tried to help anyone he could .
The Jarrells said he would sometimes buy things for the couple whenever he went to Costco to stock up on store supplies .
Adding to his kindness , Samantha Jarrell , a former employee , said Dorghalli would allow her to bring her kids to work on days when her husband @ @ @ @ @ @ @ helped shift her hours so she could go to school to become a certified nursing assistant .
Now that the store was gone , they said they felt heartbroken and worried about the future of it and Berry Creek .
“ I hope [ they ] rebuild , ” Josh Jarrell said , adding that the town would not be the same without it .
Carin Dorghalli said since she mentioned her father ’ s store on her Twitter account , she ’ s heard from other residents and their positive experiences they @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ m learning , as I speak to many evacuees , that the Village Market supported them in many ways , ” she said .
“ I ’ m happy to hear the stories.
” She said the childhood perspective she once had has shifted .
“ It wasn ’ t just my dad supporting us , ” she said .
“ He was supporting and providing for a community.
” But , she added , “ I hate that it took a catastrophic fire to appreciate that.
” At 8 a.m. that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ told him the store had burned down .
Over the phone , she could hear him crying .
It was a rare thing .
He hadn ’ t cried since 2015 when she had returned from studying abroad .
Later that day , she went on Twitter to honor the family business , writing : “ He put everything into the business so my brothers and I could have all the opportunities in the world.
” On a recent Saturday afternoon , she was back at the market , taking photos for a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ store .
She sat with charred metal , broken glass and melted merchandise in background , ready to take a picture when she broke down and cried .
It was the kind of cry that only she and her father could understand .
No one else could .

Mitch Dorghalli owns the Village Market, which was destroyed in the North Complex fire last week in the town of Berry Creek, Calif. His daughter, Carin Dorghalli, works at the local newspaper, the Chico Enterprise-Record.
The Bear fire was burning in the mountains of Butte County, devouring acres of land and belching out black smoke as it inched toward Berry Creek and other communities in the area.
More than 40 miles away in Chico, Carin Dorghalli had trouble sleeping. The 26-year-old journalist had been covering the fire for the Chico Enterprise-Record. While in the field, she managed to check up on the family business — the Village Market.
It was the only gas station and convenience store in the area. Her father had purchased it 2006 and marked his financial success as an immigrant from Syria. For residents, the store was a lifeline and a community gathering spot, especially after the 2018 fire disaster in nearby Paradise, when the Village Market was one of the few stores that stayed open.
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But when Dorghalli arrived at the store in the early hours of Sept. 10, she found the store leveled and smoldering. The fire had swept through the area, consuming cars, homes and trees. Ash and embers fell from the sky as if it were snowing. Dorghalli said she couldn’t help but cry.
Carin Dorghalli mourns the loss of her father’s business in Berry Creek. (Dylan Bouscher / East Bay Times)
Two years ago, “my dad and cousin did everything they could to keep it open,” Dorghalli recalled. Now the fate of the family business was far from certain, as was the future of Berry Creek.
California fires have destroyed thousands of homes this year, but they’ve also taken numerous small businesses, many of them lifelines for rural communities. Many more are at risk amid what could become California’s worst fire season ever.
A firestorm moved through this hamlet and Butte County a week ago. killing at least 15 people and destroying more than 720 structures, including two schools. In this remote region, it was the market that bought people together and has raised hopes that, if rebuilt, it could be a focal point for recovery.
As of Tuesday evening, the North Complex fire had burned more than 270,000 acres and was 34% contained. While scores of West Coast fires are burning from California to British Columbia, the conflagrations in Butte County have been the deadliest, although not the largest.
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California Photos: Bobcat fire rages in the Angeles National Forest Fears of a significant spread of the Bobcat fire dissipated as Santa Ana winds failed to materialize, but foothill communities remain on high alert.
The state’s biggest fire is the August Complex, which by Tuesday had burned more than 790,000 acres in Northern California’s coastal range. Far to the south, the Bobcat fire in the Angeles National Forest was much smaller, at 36,000 acres, but was threatening the Mt. Wilson Observatory and adding to plumes of smoke fouling the Los Angeles basin.
In Berry Creek, longtime residents lamented the loss of the Village Market, curious if the family would rebuild or not.
All that remains of the Village Market in Berry Creek are a few cans and carts. (Carolyn Cole/Los Angeles Times)
“People cried their eyes out,” said Kathy Bartley, 62, a resident of Berry Creek for 25 years. “It’s just sad.
“There’s nothing left up there.”
The story of the Dorghallis begins in 1988, when Mitch Dorghalli migrated to the United States with his siblings from Fairouzeh, a village about 100 miles from Damascus, the capital of Syria. He landed in Detroit where his brother lived and worked at a convenience store, saving money where he could.
In 1989, he moved to Chico, Calif., where his sister lived. There he worked again at a convenience store, saving money in hope of starting his own business one day.
In 1992, Mitch Dorghalli was introduced to his future wife, Rana. She had lived in Homs, three miles away from his village in Syria. She was attending a local university, majoring in English when her parents decided to migrate to the U.S. that year.
As with most immigrants, life in the U.S. was challenging for the couple. They had to improve their English, adapt to American customs and deal with homesickness. But they carried on, aware they had opportunities here they did not have back home.
In 1992, the couple married and moved to Oroville, where a year later Mitch Dorghalli purchased Jerry’s Market. In 1994, the couple would give birth to the first of three children. They named her Carin.
For years, Carin Dorghalli’s father tried to balance life at home and work.
“He would work 80 hours a week,” Dorghalli said. “Customers saw him more than I did.”
In the town of Berry Creek, the Village Market, owned by Mitch Dorghalli, was destroyed in the North Complex fire. (Carolyn Cole/Los Angeles Times)
His workload was a frustrating and confusing thing for her. But as she grew older, she came to understand the family’s success was tied to the store. The business offered an opportunity for a better life. It would help pay for her college tuition at Cal State Chico. It also helped pay for her brothers’ college tuitions.
“I think my feelings were valid,” she said. “When you’re younger you don’t know how difficult things can be. We’ve never had to pay close attention to those things because my parents made sure we never had to.”
In 2006, Dorghalli purchased the Village Market in Berry Creek, serving the town and several communities nearby. Her cousin, George Dorghalli, managed the store.
This week, many of George Dorghalli’s customers recalled his generosity and care for the community.
Bartley, who has been living in a motel since evacuating, said he would sometimes give credit to people who couldn’t afford to pay for items.
“He’s always smiling and always thankful that you came into his store,” Bartley recalled. “He was such a very outgoing guy.”
Josh and Samantha Jarrell said when Mitch and George Dorghalli took over the store they brought in more food options. They added a microwave so if people purchased frozen dinners and didn’t have electricity at their homes, they could use the one in their store. They let people charge their telephones at the store and would offer free ice to certain people who needed it.
“There was a bulletin board you could post to sell or look for things,” Josh Jarrell said.
What made the store special was their interaction with the Dorghallis, especially with George.
“George was very community-oriented and always tried to help anyone he could.
The Jarrells said he would sometimes buy things for the couple whenever he went to Costco to stock up on store supplies. Adding to his kindness, Samantha Jarrell, a former employee, said Dorghalli would allow her to bring her kids to work on days when her husband was going to school. He also helped shift her hours so she could go to school to become a certified nursing assistant.
Now that the store was gone, they said they felt heartbroken and worried about the future of it and Berry Creek.
“I hope [they] rebuild,” Josh Jarrell said, adding that the town would not be the same without it.
Carin Dorghalli said since she mentioned her father’s store on her Twitter account, she’s heard from other residents and their positive experiences they’ve had there.
“I’m learning, as I speak to many evacuees, that the Village Market supported them in many ways,” she said. “I’m happy to hear the stories.”
She said the childhood perspective she once had has shifted.
“It wasn’t just my dad supporting us,” she said. “He was supporting and providing for a community.”
But, she added, “I hate that it took a catastrophic fire to appreciate that.”
At 8 a.m. that Wednesday, she called her father and told him the store had burned down. Over the phone, she could hear him crying. It was a rare thing. He hadn’t cried since 2015 when she had returned from studying abroad.
Later that day, she went on Twitter to honor the family business, writing: “He put everything into the business so my brothers and I could have all the opportunities in the world.”
My immigrant father owns Village Market, the only store in Berry Creek. It burned in the #BearFire. He put everything into the business so my brothers and I could have all the opportunities in the world. He often worked 80-hour weeks. We have insurance, but our hearts still hurt. pic.twitter.com/kQBHX8mTT9 — Carin Dorghalli (@CarinDorghalli) September 9, 2020
On a recent Saturday afternoon, she was back at the market, taking photos for a column she was writing about the family store. She sat with charred metal, broken glass and melted merchandise in background, ready to take a picture when she broke down and cried.
It was the kind of cry that only she and her father could understand. No one else could.