latimes--2020-09-23--Crews 'turn a corner' in Bobcat fire as containment doubles overnight

Beleaguered fire crews made significant progress overnight on the Bobcat fire burning in northeastern Los Angeles County .
After weeks of struggling to keep up with the fire ’ s erratic , multidirectional growth , crews had achieved 38 % containment of the blaze as of Wednesday morning — more than doubling the fire ’ s containment from the previous day .
“ Today we had a pretty successful day , ” said Kerri Gilliland , of the California Interagency Incident Management Team organizing the battle against the Bobcat fire , in a Tuesday evening update .
Crews successfully placed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with bulldozers and mechanical equipment to hinder the spread of flames — along the fire ’ s edge , Gilliland said .
The fire ’ s growth is also slowing .
After ballooning to twice its size in the course of one week , it is now increasing in slower increments , growing by a little more than 1,000 acres overnight .
The total acreage burned Wednesday was 113,307 , according to the U.S. Forest Service .
Progress was so significant that the estimated containment date for the fire has been moved up @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
“ We finally got the resources , we got favorable weather , and the fuel transition was big , ” Forest Service spokesman Larry Smith said Wednesday .
“ Once it came out of the really steep timber [ of the Angeles National Forest ] , we were able to get more mechanized.
” The northern portion of the fire , which seared through the foothills community of Juniper Hills and , has been marked as contained , Smith said .
But the fight is not over .
Mt .
Wilson , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ $ 1 billion worth of communications towers , remains threatened by the fire , which is considered one of the largest in L.A. County history .
Still , fire crews ’ progress atop Mt .
Wilson held steady Wednesday afternoon .
Pockets of terrain were smoldering , but few immediate flames were apparent .
“ The weather finally cooperated , ” said Capt .
Dave Gillotte of the L.A. County Fire Department .
“ We were finally able to see the fire and to get to the fire.
” The rugged landscape was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ pink fire retardant and blackened trees , but the sky above the observatory was clear despite the lingering smell of smoke .
Gillotte attributed much of the crews ’ recent gains to hard work and preparation .
“ We ’ ve been making a stand at Mt .
Wilson , ” he said .
“ Half the time is very intense , and half the time is preparing for it to be very intense.
” Farther down the mountain , though , was a different scene .
At the intersection of Highway 2 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , about five miles below the observatory in the Angeles National Forest , thick smoke had settled in like a blanket over the valley .
“ There are still a lot of variables at play , ” said L.A. County Fire Department spokesman Pono CQ Barnes , who was stationed at the intersection .
“ Right now we ’ re looking at wind , fuels and topographical features.
” And although progress on the blaze has been substantial , Barnes said the Bobcat fire ’ s containment lines are still very dependent on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it changes , he said , there is “ significant potential ” for reignition .
“ I ’ m exhausted , ” said Thomas Meneghini , executive director of the Mt .
Wilson Observatory .
Meneghini said observatory staff had been “ pretty well wiped out ” from seeing flames lap at Mt .
Wilson for more than a week .
At one point , the fire reached less than 500 feet from the storied structure .
“ Our stuff is priceless , it ’ s irreplaceable , ” he said of the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 100-year-old telescope that played an important role in the history of astronomy , and the 2004-built CHARA array for digitized space study .
“ There ’ s no monetary value you could put on these items , ” he said .
The fire has destroyed 52 structures — 27 of which were residences — and damaged 14 other buildings , officials said Wednesday .
Among the structures lost is the nature center at the Devil ’ s Punchbowl , a 1,310-acre rock canyon that receives a reported 130,000 visitors each year .
remain @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Angeles National Forest and the foothills north of the blaze .
also remain for Pasadena , Altadena and other areas threatened by the fire .
The Bobcat fire , which ignited Sept. 6 , is one of more than two dozen fires burning across California , and resources are spread thin .
In response , the Forest Service has mobilized 100 firefighters from across Mexico to assist with wildfire suppression throughout the state .
The firefighters are expected to arrive Wednesday and will receive orientation and training before traveling to the Castle fire @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Forest .
Firefighters from Canada and the U.S. military are also deployed to fires around the state , the Forest Service said .
More than 3 million acres have burned in California this year , and although the cause of the Bobcat fire is still classified as “ under investigation , ” federal officials are investigating Southern California Edison utility equipment around Cogswell Dam that experienced an incident minutes before the reported ignition of the fire nearby .
But after what felt like weeks of playing whack-a-mole with the unpredictable Bobcat fire , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ could be the start of a new chapter .
“ We ’ re really starting to turn a corner on this fire and getting the upper hand , ” Forest Service spokesman Andrew Mitchell said Wednesday .
But , Mitchell said , officials are not celebrating just yet , as the forecast calls for hot , dry weather that could help reignite the blaze .
The National Weather Service said Wednesday that “ temperatures will be above normal into the weekend , then a significant warming trend is forecast for early next week.
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ critical fire weather , ” Mitchell said .
“ It all depends on this weekend .
”

Beleaguered fire crews made significant progress overnight on the Bobcat fire burning in northeastern Los Angeles County.
After weeks of struggling to keep up with the fire’s erratic, multidirectional growth, crews had achieved 38% containment of the blaze as of Wednesday morning — more than doubling the fire’s containment from the previous day.
“Today we had a pretty successful day,” said Kerri Gilliland, of the California Interagency Incident Management Team organizing the battle against the Bobcat fire, in a Tuesday evening update.
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Crews successfully placed several direct containment lines — barriers created with bulldozers and mechanical equipment to hinder the spread of flames — along the fire’s edge, Gilliland said.
The fire’s growth is also slowing. After ballooning to twice its size in the course of one week, it is now increasing in slower increments, growing by a little more than 1,000 acres overnight. The total acreage burned Wednesday was 113,307, according to the U.S. Forest Service .
Progress was so significant that the estimated containment date for the fire has been moved up by one month, to Sept. 30.
“We finally got the resources, we got favorable weather, and the fuel transition was big,” Forest Service spokesman Larry Smith said Wednesday. “Once it came out of the really steep timber [of the Angeles National Forest], we were able to get more mechanized.”
The northern portion of the fire, which seared through the foothills community of Juniper Hills and portions of the Antelope Valley , has been marked as contained, Smith said.
But the fight is not over. Mt. Wilson, home to an observatory and a reported $1 billion worth of communications towers, remains threatened by the fire, which is considered one of the largest in L.A. County history.
Still, fire crews’ progress atop Mt. Wilson held steady Wednesday afternoon. Pockets of terrain were smoldering, but few immediate flames were apparent.
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“The weather finally cooperated,” said Capt. Dave Gillotte of the L.A. County Fire Department. “We were finally able to see the fire and to get to the fire.”
The rugged landscape was painted with a stark mix of bright pink fire retardant and blackened trees, but the sky above the observatory was clear despite the lingering smell of smoke. Gillotte attributed much of the crews’ recent gains to hard work and preparation.
“We’ve been making a stand at Mt. Wilson,” he said. “Half the time is very intense, and half the time is preparing for it to be very intense.”
Farther down the mountain, though, was a different scene. At the intersection of Highway 2 and Mt. Wilson Red Box Road, about five miles below the observatory in the Angeles National Forest, thick smoke had settled in like a blanket over the valley.
“There are still a lot of variables at play,” said L.A. County Fire Department spokesman Pono CQ Barnes, who was stationed at the intersection. “Right now we’re looking at wind, fuels and topographical features.”
And although progress on the blaze has been substantial, Barnes said the Bobcat fire’s containment lines are still very dependent on the direction of the wind. If it changes, he said, there is “significant potential” for reignition.
“I’m exhausted,” said Thomas Meneghini, executive director of the Mt. Wilson Observatory.
Meneghini said observatory staff had been “pretty well wiped out” from seeing flames lap at Mt. Wilson for more than a week. At one point, the fire reached less than 500 feet from the storied structure.
“Our stuff is priceless, it’s irreplaceable,” he said of the observatory’s equipment , which includes a 100-year-old telescope that played an important role in the history of astronomy, and the 2004-built CHARA array for digitized space study.
“There’s no monetary value you could put on these items,” he said.
The fire has destroyed 52 structures — 27 of which were residences — and damaged 14 other buildings, officials said Wednesday.
Among the structures lost is the nature center at the Devil’s Punchbowl, a 1,310-acre rock canyon that receives a reported 130,000 visitors each year.
I'm sad to share that 90 percent of Devil's Punchbowl has burned from the #BobcatFire. The nature center and significant plant life and fauna across its 1350 acres have been lost. My office is working with @lacountyparks to see how we can rebuild and restore this beloved land. pic.twitter.com/0fsPriO7ho — Supervisor Kathryn Barger (@kathrynbarger) September 22, 2020
Evacuation orders remain in place for several communities in the Angeles National Forest and the foothills north of the blaze. Evacuation warnings also remain for Pasadena, Altadena and other areas threatened by the fire.
The Bobcat fire, which ignited Sept. 6, is one of more than two dozen fires burning across California, and resources are spread thin. In response, the Forest Service has mobilized 100 firefighters from across Mexico to assist with wildfire suppression throughout the state.
The firefighters are expected to arrive Wednesday and will receive orientation and training before traveling to the Castle fire within the Sequoia Complex in Sequoia National Forest.
Firefighters from Canada and the U.S. military are also deployed to fires around the state, the Forest Service said. More than 3 million acres have burned in California this year, and although the cause of the Bobcat fire is still classified as “under investigation,” federal officials are investigating Southern California Edison utility equipment around Cogswell Dam that experienced an incident minutes before the reported ignition of the fire nearby.
But after what felt like weeks of playing whack-a-mole with the unpredictable Bobcat fire, officials said Wednesday’s substantial gains could be the start of a new chapter.
“We’re really starting to turn a corner on this fire and getting the upper hand,” Forest Service spokesman Andrew Mitchell said Wednesday.
But, Mitchell said, officials are not celebrating just yet, as the forecast calls for hot, dry weather that could help reignite the blaze. The National Weather Service said Wednesday that “temperatures will be above normal into the weekend, then a significant warming trend is forecast for early next week.”
“We are expecting elevated to critical fire weather,” Mitchell said. “It all depends on this weekend.”


latimes--2020-09-23--Earthquake: 3.2 quake strikes near Ridgecrest, Calif.

A magnitude 3.2 earthquake was reported Wednesday at 7:17 a.m. seven miles from Ridgecrest , Calif. , according to the U.S. Geological Survey .
The earthquake occurred 27 miles from California City , Calif. , 56 miles from Barstow , 62 miles from Tehachapi , Calif. , and 62 miles from Rosamond , Calif .
In the last 10 days , there has been one earthquake of magnitude 3.0 or greater centered nearby .
The shaker followed an earlier 3.2 quake , at 5:24 a.m. , two miles from Rancho Cucamonga , a city about 15 miles northeast of Riverside @ @ @ @ @ @ @ magnitudes of 3.0 to 4.0 occur each year in California and Nevada , according to a recent three-year data sample .
The 7:17 a.m. earthquake occurred at a depth of 4.5 miles .
Did you feel this earthquake ?
Consider reporting what you felt to the USGS .
Even if you didn ’ t feel this small earthquake , you never know when the Big One is going to strike .
Ready yourself by following our five-step earthquake preparedness guide and building your own emergency kit .
This story was automatically generated by @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the latest earthquakes detected by the USGS .
A Times editor reviewed the post before it was published .
If you ’ re interested in learning more about the system , visit our list of frequently asked questions .

A magnitude 3.2 earthquake was reported Wednesday at 7:17 a.m. seven miles from Ridgecrest, Calif., according to the U.S. Geological Survey.
A magnitude 3.2 earthquake was reported Wednesday at 7:17 a.m. seven miles from Ridgecrest, Calif., according to the U.S. Geological Survey.
The earthquake occurred 27 miles from California City, Calif., 56 miles from Barstow, 62 miles from Tehachapi, Calif., and 62 miles from Rosamond, Calif. In the last 10 days, there has been one earthquake of magnitude 3.0 or greater centered nearby.
The shaker followed an earlier 3.2 quake, at 5:24 a.m., two miles from Rancho Cucamonga, a city about 15 miles northeast of Riverside.
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An average of 234 earthquakes with magnitudes of 3.0 to 4.0 occur each year in California and Nevada, according to a recent three-year data sample.
The 7:17 a.m. earthquake occurred at a depth of 4.5 miles. Did you feel this earthquake? Consider reporting what you felt to the USGS.
Even if you didn’t feel this small earthquake, you never know when the Big One is going to strike. Ready yourself by following our five-step earthquake preparedness guide and building your own emergency kit.
This story was automatically generated by Quakebot, a computer application that monitors the latest earthquakes detected by the USGS. A Times editor reviewed the post before it was published. If you’re interested in learning more about the system, visit our list of frequently asked questions.


latimes--2020-09-23--Magnitude 3.2 earthquake hits near Rancho Cucamonga

A magnitude 3.2 earthquake was reported Wednesday at 5:24 a.m. two miles from Rancho Cucamonga , according to the U.S. Geological Survey .
The earthquake occurred three miles from Claremont , three miles from Upland , six miles from La Verne and seven miles from Ontario .
In the past 10 days , there have been four earthquakes of magnitude 3.0 or greater centered nearby .
An average of five earthquakes with magnitudes between 3.0 and 4.0 occur per year in the greater Los Angeles area , according to a recent three-year data sample .
The earthquake occurred at a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ feel this earthquake ?
Consider reporting what you felt to the USGS .
Even if you didn ’ t feel this small earthquake , you never know when the Big One is going to strike .
Ready yourself by following our five-step earthquake preparedness guide and building your own emergency kit .
This story was automatically generated by Quakebot , a computer application that monitors the latest earthquakes detected by the USGS .
A Times editor reviewed the post before it was published .
If you ’ re interested in learning more about @ @ @ @ @ @ @ frequently asked questions .

A magnitude 3.2 earthquake was reported Wednesday at 5:24 a.m. near Rancho Cucamonga.
A magnitude 3.2 earthquake was reported Wednesday at 5:24 a.m. two miles from Rancho Cucamonga, according to the U.S. Geological Survey.
The earthquake occurred three miles from Claremont, three miles from Upland, six miles from La Verne and seven miles from Ontario.
In the past 10 days, there have been four earthquakes of magnitude 3.0 or greater centered nearby.
Advertisement
An average of five earthquakes with magnitudes between 3.0 and 4.0 occur per year in the greater Los Angeles area, according to a recent three-year data sample.
The earthquake occurred at a depth of 1.4 miles. Did you feel this earthquake? Consider reporting what you felt to the USGS.
Even if you didn’t feel this small earthquake, you never know when the Big One is going to strike. Ready yourself by following our five-step earthquake preparedness guide and building your own emergency kit.
This story was automatically generated by Quakebot, a computer application that monitors the latest earthquakes detected by the USGS. A Times editor reviewed the post before it was published. If you’re interested in learning more about the system, visit our list of frequently asked questions.


latimes--2020-09-23--New look, new chance. But now mercaditos, like other Latino businesses, hang in the balance

People have been dropping by Lupita ’ s corner for years .
¡Hola mija !
they often shout as they walk past the front door .
For 27 years , the little market at West 3rd Street and Lucas Avenue in L.A. 's Westlake neighborhood has been far more than just a store .
“ It ’ s a place that feels like home — like it belongs to us , ” said Josefina Reynoso , 72 .
Before the pandemic struck , sealing off much of the world around us , Lupita ’ s Corner Market was on the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Olague , 67 , the single mother who opened the mercadito in the 1990s , had passed the business on to her children .
Her kids , Luz and Raúl Arango , were working hard to make their family store a space that offered much-needed aid to the surrounding neighborhood like free groceries , more healthful food options , a space for kids to do their homework and for neighbors to host small gatherings .
“ It ’ s been difficult , ” said Luz , 33 .
“ We love this community @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and all the pieces came together so organically , but then COVID came along and everything changed.
” From one day to the next in mid-March , when schools shut , Lupita ’ s Corner Market lost about 80 % of its business .
Much of its sales came from across the street , where the local high school and elementary school used to send dozens of kids over each week in search of drinks and snacks .
Nationwide , business have been hit hard by the pandemic .
In Los Angeles @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , restaurants and mercaditos have suffered disproportionately , said Lilly Rocha , executive director of the Los Angeles Latino Chamber of Commerce .
About 1 out of 3 Latinos have seen their business shut down or have experienced a significant drop in revenue , she said .
“ We ’ re losing so many different entrepreneurs who for many years have put all their eggs in one basket , ” Rocha said .
Latino small-business owners play a vast role in the economic landscape of Los Angeles .
The chamber represents more than @ @ @ @ @ @ @ were already at a disadvantage before the virus grabbed hold .
They lacked access to financial resources and struggled to seek out support due to language barriers .
During the pandemic , most were passed up by federal financial assistance programs , Rocha said .
Many didn ’ t have the necessary connections with banks , which played a role in helping access the dollars .
And although studies have shown that Latinos spend a lot of time online , many Latino small-business owners have yet to learn how to market and sell @ @ @ @ @ @ @ It ’ s been very hard for them to pivot , ” said Rocha , adding that the chamber will be working to provide more technical support in coming months .
In Westlake , small businesses run by Latinos are widespread .
There are discount stores , hair salons , curanderos ( healers ) and countless food vendors .
Mom-and-pop mercaditos dot just about every corridor .
It ’ s a working-class area where just about everyone rents and the household income is nearly $ 26,724 less than the county median .
Over @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of Sinaloa , Mexico , who lives in Pico Rivera , had done everything to keep her doors open .
She lived frugally with her twins , took out loans , emptied out her savings .
In 2017 , she was starting to feel tired .
She was just getting by , the fridges were run-down , and the place was in dire need of a renovation .
She had been manning the market almost entirely alone , seven days a week , for nearly 25 years .
“ This was the one @ @ @ @ @ @ @ after struggling so much , ” Lupita said .
“ It allowed me to take care of my children and not ask anyone for help .
I just didn ’ t have the strength to keep it going anymore.
” Her kids , who grew up helping at the market , had other plans .
Luz was interested in pursuing radiology .
Raul wanted ( he still does ) to become a firefighter .
The family was wrestling with the tough decision to sell Lupita ’ s when , one afternoon , a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ information on how to revamp the market , how to make it a healthier space for the community .
“ She said we were located in a food desert , ” Luz said .
“ She told us there were programs that could educate us so we could have a more positive influence in the community.
” Luz was transformed by the courses she took with the Los Angeles Food Policy Council , a nonprofit launched by the city to promote equal access to food .
As her mom stepped back from the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ more involved , offering fruits and vegetables , smoothies and press-pressed juices and adding a deli with fresh-made sandwiches .
“ I ’ ve always wanted to help people , to be a resource .
This helped me realize how our store could be all those things , ” Luz said .
“ I saw all these possibilities , all this hope.
” In 2019 , Luz and her family teamed up with the Food Policy Council and other organizations and , through a series of fundraisers , grants and donated work , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
They cleared out the dim , cramped aisles , gutted the space and created , in bright shades of blue , green and orange , a brand-new , light-filled store with custom shelving , a spacious deli , a community wall for announcements and seating nooks for customers .
The space was thoughtfully designed with the needs of the neighborhood in mind , said Christine Tran , executive director of the Food Policy Council .
The organization has transformed seven other stores in a similar way in Los Angeles .
Luz and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Lupita ’ s in September 2019 , just six months before the pandemic would come along and test them in unforeseen ways .
On a recent afternoon , with both schools still shut across the street , business was slow , but Luz stayed busy behind the register .
She and Raul overhauled the deli menu , they ’ re promoting their offerings on social media , and they ’ re hoping to launch a website and curbside pickup .
They also partnered with a nearby farmers market to give away free groceries @ @ @ @ @ @ @ We ’ re behind on rent , we ’ re behind on bills , but we ’ re giving it our all , ” Luz said .
“ Our mom always taught us , ‘ If you don ’ t know the answer , you ’ ll figure it out.
’ ” Just before noon , a customer walks through door , an older woman with a mask and a warm look in her eyes .
“ Good , mija , ” says Chata , also known as Josefina Reynoso .
Reynoso was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it opened in 1993 .
The homemaker remembers going for a walk around her block , turning the corner and suddenly spotting a little market where a bookstore used to stand .
Lupita was behind the register .
“ Hola , pase , pase , ” she hollered with a smile .
Come in .
Come in .
The two women went on to become great friends .
They used to spend long afternoons inside the market chatting about their lives and their children .
If Chata ever went down the street to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ competitor ’ s market , 8-year-old Luz would tease her about it .
These days , Chata only hears about her old friend through Luz .
Lupita , who has severe asthma , has been at home since March to avoid catching the virus .
She hopes that , once the pandemic lifts , Lupita will be back in the store , at least a few days a week .
“ They ’ ve been through a lot this past year , ” said Chata .
“ But these kids , they know @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and her legacy is in the best hands .
”

People have been dropping by Lupita’s corner for years.
¡Hola mija! they often shout as they walk past the front door.
Qué hay de bueno? What’s new?
For 27 years, the little market at West 3rd Street and Lucas Avenue in L.A.’s Westlake neighborhood has been far more than just a store.
“It’s a place that feels like home — like it belongs to us,” said Josefina Reynoso, 72.
Luz Arango, right, helps Josefina Reynoso, who was the first customer at Lupita’s 27 years ago. (Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
Before the pandemic struck, sealing off much of the world around us, Lupita’s Corner Market was on the verge of a rare transformation. Lupita Olague, 67, the single mother who opened the mercadito in the 1990s, had passed the business on to her children.
Her kids, Luz and Raúl Arango, were working hard to make their family store a space that offered much-needed aid to the surrounding neighborhood like free groceries, more healthful food options, a space for kids to do their homework and for neighbors to host small gatherings.
“It’s been difficult,” said Luz, 33. “We love this community, we have this vision for it, and all the pieces came together so organically, but then COVID came along and everything changed.”
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From one day to the next in mid-March, when schools shut, Lupita’s Corner Market lost about 80% of its business. Much of its sales came from across the street, where the local high school and elementary school used to send dozens of kids over each week in search of drinks and snacks.
A neighborhood resident receives groceries at Lupita’s as another waits his turn. The food was donated by Atwater Village Farmers Market. (Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
Nationwide, business have been hit hard by the pandemic. In Los Angeles, Latino small businesses such as bakeries, restaurants and mercaditos have suffered disproportionately, said Lilly Rocha, executive director of the Los Angeles Latino Chamber of Commerce.
About 1 out of 3 Latinos have seen their business shut down or have experienced a significant drop in revenue, she said.
“We’re losing so many different entrepreneurs who for many years have put all their eggs in one basket,” Rocha said.
Latino small-business owners play a vast role in the economic landscape of Los Angeles. The chamber represents more than 1,700 of them. But many mom-and-pops were already at a disadvantage before the virus grabbed hold.
Advertisement
They lacked access to financial resources and struggled to seek out support due to language barriers. During the pandemic, most were passed up by federal financial assistance programs, Rocha said. Many didn’t have the necessary connections with banks, which played a role in helping access the dollars.
Luz Arango bags food donated by Atwater Village Farmers Market to be distributed to neighborhood members in need. (Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)
And although studies have shown that Latinos spend a lot of time online, many Latino small-business owners have yet to learn how to market and sell their goods on digital platforms.
“It’s been very hard for them to pivot,” said Rocha, adding that the chamber will be working to provide more technical support in coming months.
In Westlake, small businesses run by Latinos are widespread. There are discount stores, hair salons, curanderos (healers) and countless food vendors. Mom-and-pop mercaditos dot just about every corridor.
It’s a working-class area where just about everyone rents and the household income is nearly $26,724 less than the county median.
Over the years, Lupita, a native of Sinaloa, Mexico, who lives in Pico Rivera, had done everything to keep her doors open. She lived frugally with her twins, took out loans, emptied out her savings.
In 2017, she was starting to feel tired. She was just getting by, the fridges were run-down, and the place was in dire need of a renovation. She had been manning the market almost entirely alone, seven days a week, for nearly 25 years.
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Maria Guadalupe “Lupita” Olague with her twin children, Luz and Raul Arango, at their home in Pico Rivera. (Dania Maxwell / Los Angeles Times)
“This was the one thing that gave me a path forward after struggling so much,” Lupita said. “It allowed me to take care of my children and not ask anyone for help. I just didn’t have the strength to keep it going anymore.”
Her kids, who grew up helping at the market, had other plans. Luz was interested in pursuing radiology. Raul wanted (he still does) to become a firefighter.
The family was wrestling with the tough decision to sell Lupita’s when, one afternoon, a young woman walked into the store offering information on how to revamp the market, how to make it a healthier space for the community.
“She said we were located in a food desert,” Luz said. “She told us there were programs that could educate us so we could have a more positive influence in the community.”
Luz Arango, second from left, celebrates good news that she received money to help keep her business’ doors open for another month with volunteers Nina Angelo, left, Lola Gutierrez, and Osunkoya Chavon, right, while bagging donated food and passing them out to the neighborhood at Lupita’s Corner Market And Deli.
(Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)
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Luz was transformed by the courses she took with the Los Angeles Food Policy Council, a nonprofit launched by the city to promote equal access to food. As her mom stepped back from the business, she and her brother became more involved, offering fruits and vegetables, smoothies and press-pressed juices and adding a deli with fresh-made sandwiches.
“I’ve always wanted to help people, to be a resource. This helped me realize how our store could be all those things,” Luz said. “I saw all these possibilities, all this hope.”
In 2019, Luz and her family teamed up with the Food Policy Council and other organizations and, through a series of fundraisers, grants and donated work, fully renovated Lupita’s Corner Market.
They cleared out the dim, cramped aisles, gutted the space and created, in bright shades of blue, green and orange, a brand-new, light-filled store with custom shelving, a spacious deli, a community wall for announcements and seating nooks for customers.
The space was thoughtfully designed with the needs of the neighborhood in mind, said Christine Tran, executive director of the Food Policy Council. The organization has transformed seven other stores in a similar way in Los Angeles.
Luz and her family celebrated the grand reopening of Lupita’s in September 2019, just six months before the pandemic would come along and test them in unforeseen ways.
Advertisement
On a recent afternoon, with both schools still shut across the street, business was slow, but Luz stayed busy behind the register.
Maria Guadalupe “Lupita” Olague smiles with her twin children, Luz and Raul Arango, at their home in Pico Rivera. (Dania Maxwell/Los Angeles Times)
She and Raul overhauled the deli menu, they’re promoting their offerings on social media, and they’re hoping to launch a website and curbside pickup. They also partnered with a nearby farmers market to give away free groceries to the community each Wednesday.
“We’re behind on rent, we’re behind on bills, but we’re giving it our all,” Luz said. “Our mom always taught us, ‘If you don’t know the answer, you’ll figure it out.’”
Just before noon, a customer walks through the door, an older woman with a mask and a warm look in her eyes.
“Chata!” Luz cries out. “Como estas Chata?”
“Good, mija,” says Chata, also known as Josefina Reynoso.
Reynoso was the store’s first customer when it opened in 1993. The homemaker remembers going for a walk around her block, turning the corner and suddenly spotting a little market where a bookstore used to stand. Lupita was behind the register.
Advertisement
“Hola, pase, pase,” she hollered with a smile. Come in. Come in.
The two women went on to become great friends. They used to spend long afternoons inside the market chatting about their lives and their children.
A man carries a bag of food past a mural at Lupita’s Corner Market And Deli, a family-owned business in L.A.’s Westlake District for nearly 30 years. (Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)
If Chata ever went down the street to buy bread or toilet paper at a competitor’s market, 8-year-old Luz would tease her about it.
These days, Chata only hears about her old friend through Luz. Lupita, who has severe asthma, has been at home since March to avoid catching the virus.
She hopes that, once the pandemic lifts, Lupita will be back in the store, at least a few days a week.
“They’ve been through a lot this past year,” said Chata. “But these kids, they know how to take care of their mother, and her legacy is in the best hands.”


latimes--2020-09-23--Column: A bike tour reveals hidden Latino history in downtown Los Angeles

The distance was just over a quarter of a mile .
On First Street , from the old Los Angeles Times building on Spring up to The Music Center on Grand .
With a slight incline .
Me and a Metro bike , ready to channel my inner Tour de France champ .
Perhaps be one of those Basques cyclists who dominate those mountain climbs .
I hadn ’ t biked more than a block in over a decade , yet I was already halfway through a six-mile bike ride around downtown Los Angeles that doubled as a history lesson @ @ @ @ @ @ @ downtown .
My lungs burned ; my legs chafed .
Maybe I should ’ ve worn a more appropriate outfit than a free T-shirt , baggy Dickies shorts that went past my knees , and leather huaraches with tire-tread soles .
But no way would I quit in front of my guide .
So I huffed and I puffed and I never once used the curb as a crutch .
I was going to conquer this slight summit , dammit .
Next to me was UCLA Chicano Studies professor Marissa López .
She @ @ @ @ @ @ @ account that tells the hidden histories of Latino Los Angeles through photos and copious captions .
López plans to eventually release a map-based app version of the project , but the avid cyclist worked with the Los Angeles Explorers Club to turn it into a 70-minute self-guided audio bike tour in the meantime .
I was her first guest .
And I was about to embark on something like a nerdy , violence-free version of “ Grand Theft Auto V. ” Soon , we — OK , I — were catching our breath @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Around us were the surnames of Old Los Angeles : Chandler .
Taper .
Ahmanson .
Wheezing for air , I asked López why young people now seem so taken with woke history .
“ It ’ s more about being accurate than woke , ” she countered .
“ It ’ s important for young people to realize they ’ re not interlopers .
This is their city.
” A bikeable city , even for weaklings like me .
López , Picturing Mexican America contributor Yvonne Condes and Explorers Club founder Aimee @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s Metro Bike Share depot .
They smiled when I confessed the date of my last ride — and now they wanted me to cycle from Olvera Street to City Hall all the way to Exposition Park and learn some radical Angeleno history along the way ?
“ Being on a bike slows the world down , ” López assured me .
“ All your senses have to be on , which allows you to absorb more.
” So off we went — they on fancy Electra , and Bianchi bikes , me @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Reckonings with our complicated past have swept across the country this year , and not just among the progressive set .
Gilchrist , whose group focuses mostly on lighthearted bike rides that deal with Hollywood , Route 66 , and L.A. noir , reached out to López this spring to suggest the two create a downtown jaunt that was more than “ the whitewashing that usually happens on these things.
” López and Condes wrote a script and uploaded a recording of it to Spotify ; Gilchrist plotted out the route .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ romanticizing , erasing , and promoting a white gaze , ” López said as we pedaled up Alameda toward Los Angeles State Historic Park .
“ But something like this is about all the stuff left out .
You learn to love L.A. more.
” Our first stop : The Zanja Madre , the city ’ s first aqueduct .
A handmade sign on a fence pointed out a stretch of a brick-encased ditch that ran parallel to the Gold Line tracks .
That ’ s how L.A. 's founders first brought water @ @ @ @ @ @ @ version of López ’ s tour is comprehensive , if too earnest .
In person , her delivery is insightful and droll .
“ Historians always call this L.A. ’ s original public works project , ” López said .
“ But they never talked about the forced Indigenous labor that made it happen .
Instead , they make it seem like one giant , consensual fiesta.
” We circled around the park , and the profe was right : I noticed far more than I would have on foot or car .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ hill was St. Peter ’ s Italian Church .
In the shade were volunteers handing out free food .
Joggers and other cyclists buzzed around .
Looming over the scene was the L.A. skyline .
López made a Spotify soundtrack complete with chipster — that ’ s Chicano hipsters , people — favorites Chicano Batman , Ozomatli and Las Cafeteras for people who wanted to take the tour sans her narration .
Next up was Fletcher Bowron Square , named after the mayor who guided Los Angeles from the end of the Great @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the 1950s .
There was nothing on the tan concrete walls that bore Bowron ’ s name about who he was , but a plaque identified the site as the location for the city ’ s first newspaper , the Los Angeles Star .
López looked like Mookie Betts ready to swing at a fourth-grader ’ s fastball .
“ So no mention that Bowron was one of the biggest advocates to round up Japanese Americans during World War II , ” she said .
“ No mention that the Star published bilingually @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that across the street was a market where Native Americans were essentially sold as slave labor.
” “ You have to work hard to make this place boring.
” Condes kept us on schedule .
We walked our bikes past a Millard Sheets mural on City Hall East , then sped past the former headquarters of The Times before taking on that brutal incline up First Street .
López , Condes , and Gilchrist reached the summit with ease .
A downhill path thankfully followed to the highlight of the tour : The @ @ @ @ @ @ @ waterfall cascaded into a shallow pool that Mayor Eric Garcetti should turn into a mini-Raging Waters .
Towering over us were the largest bas relief military monuments in the United States .
Captions proclaimed the glories of “ the troops who helped to win the Southwest ” and the “ settlers who made Los Angeles a city ” — never mind that Mexicans founded Los Angeles in 1781 .
“ It ’ s an awe-inspiring , unironic monument to U.S. colonialism , ” López said dryly .
Condes pointed out a smaller plaque @ @ @ @ @ @ @ names was that of Daisuke “ Dike ” Nagano , a pioneering Japanese American architect who designed the Fort Moore monument .
“ Just a decade before he did this , he was in an internment camp , ” she said .
López didn ’ t even get into how whites regularly lynched Mexicans here — because I already knew that part , at least .
My guides wanted to push to Exposition Park , but my calves declined the invite .
So we zipped through Chinatown before ending up in Olvera Street @ @ @ @ @ @ @ trap and not spared a ding in López ’ s script .
Before us was something else : Latinos eating , shopping , and even posing on the area ’ s infamous burro while wearing ponchos and bandoliers .
Business was finally returning to the shopping district after months of coronavirus-caused shutdowns .
“ People make history real , ” López said .
“ People make it their own .
We have to move forward together to make a better tomorrow.
” She doesn ’ t plan to offer any group rides until @ @ @ @ @ @ @ you don ’ t need to wait that long .
Visit the Los Angeles Explorer Club ’ s website , download the route and audio guide , and learn a better , fuller history about L.A. than whatever you learned back in high school .
But , just in case , make sure to work out those calves .

Aimee Gilchrist founder of Los Angeles Explorer’s Club, left, and Marissa López, a professor of English and Chicano studies at UCLA and founder and director of Picturing Mexican America, ride through L.A. State Historic Park during a self-guided bicycle tour they created.
The distance was just over a quarter of a mile. On First Street, from the old Los Angeles Times building on Spring up to The Music Center on Grand. With a slight incline. Me and a Metro bike, ready to channel my inner Tour de France champ.
Perhaps be one of those Basques cyclists who dominate those mountain climbs.
I nearly died.
I hadn’t biked more than a block in over a decade, yet I was already halfway through a six-mile bike ride around downtown Los Angeles that doubled as a history lesson on the forgotten past of Latinos in downtown. My lungs burned; my legs chafed.
Advertisement
Maybe I should’ve worn a more appropriate outfit than a free T-shirt, baggy Dickies shorts that went past my knees, and leather huaraches with tire-tread soles.
But no way would I quit in front of my guide.
So I huffed and I puffed and I never once used the curb as a crutch. I was going to conquer this slight summit, dammit.
From left, Aimee Gilchrist, Marissa López and Yvonne Condes, walk their bikes through downtown Los Angeles during a self-guided tour. (Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
Next to me was UCLA Chicano Studies professor Marissa López. She runs Picturing Mexican America, an Instagram account that tells the hidden histories of Latino Los Angeles through photos and copious captions. López plans to eventually release a map-based app version of the project, but the avid cyclist worked with the Los Angeles Explorers Club to turn it into a 70-minute self-guided audio bike tour in the meantime.
I was her first guest.
And I was about to embark on something like a nerdy, violence-free version of “Grand Theft Auto V.”
Soon, we — OK, I — were catching our breath in front of The Music Center. Around us were the surnames of Old Los Angeles: Chandler. Taper. Ahmanson.
Advertisement
Wheezing for air, I asked López why young people now seem so taken with woke history.
“It’s more about being accurate than woke,” she countered. “It’s important for young people to realize they’re not interlopers. This is their city.”
A bikeable city, even for weaklings like me.
::
Aimee Gilchrist, founder of Los Angeles Explorer’s Club, outside the U.S. Courthouse in downtown Los Angeles. (Christina House/Los Angeles Times)
López, Picturing Mexican America contributor Yvonne Condes and Explorers Club founder Aimee Gilchrist met me at Union Station’s Metro Bike Share depot. They smiled when I confessed the date of my last ride — and now they wanted me to cycle from Olvera Street to City Hall all the way to Exposition Park and learn some radical Angeleno history along the way?
Couldn’t I just Google it?
“Being on a bike slows the world down,” López assured me. “All your senses have to be on, which allows you to absorb more.”
So off we went — they on fancy Electra, and Bianchi bikes, me on a sturdy, taxpayer-supported spoked steed.
Reckonings with our complicated past have swept across the country this year, and not just among the progressive set. Gilchrist, whose group focuses mostly on lighthearted bike rides that deal with Hollywood, Route 66, and L.A. noir, reached out to López this spring to suggest the two create a downtown jaunt that was more than “the whitewashing that usually happens on these things.”
López and Condes wrote a script and uploaded a recording of it to Spotify; Gilchrist plotted out the route.
Aimee Gilchrist makes a stop at the U.S. Courthouse in downtown Los Angeles. (Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
“The industry of L.A. history is romanticizing, erasing, and promoting a white gaze,” López said as we pedaled up Alameda toward Los Angeles State Historic Park. “But something like this is about all the stuff left out. You learn to love L.A. more.”
Our first stop: The Zanja Madre, the city’s first aqueduct. A handmade sign on a fence pointed out a stretch of a brick-encased ditch that ran parallel to the Gold Line tracks. That’s how L.A.’s founders first brought water to the parched town.
The audio version of López’s tour is comprehensive, if too earnest. In person, her delivery is insightful and droll.
“Historians always call this L.A.’s original public works project,” López said. “But they never talked about the forced Indigenous labor that made it happen. Instead, they make it seem like one giant, consensual fiesta.”
We circled around the park, and the profe was right: I noticed far more than I would have on foot or car. The city unveiled itself. On a hill was St. Peter’s Italian Church. In the shade were volunteers handing out free food. Joggers and other cyclists buzzed around. Looming over the scene was the L.A. skyline.
López made a Spotify soundtrack complete with chipster — that’s Chicano hipsters, people — favorites Chicano Batman, Ozomatli and Las Cafeteras for people who wanted to take the tour sans her narration.
Next up was Fletcher Bowron Square, named after the mayor who guided Los Angeles from the end of the Great Depression through World War II and into the 1950s. There was nothing on the tan concrete walls that bore Bowron’s name about who he was, but a plaque identified the site as the location for the city’s first newspaper, the Los Angeles Star.
López looked like Mookie Betts ready to swing at a fourth-grader’s fastball.
“So no mention that Bowron was one of the biggest advocates to round up Japanese Americans during World War II,” she said. “No mention that the Star published bilingually in its early years. No mention that across the street was a market where Native Americans were essentially sold as slave labor.”
She waited a beat.
“You have to work hard to make this place boring.”
Aimee Gilchrist, left, and Yvonne Condes make a stop at Fort Moore Pioneer Memorial in downtown Los Angeles. (Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
Condes kept us on schedule. We walked our bikes past a Millard Sheets mural on City Hall East, then sped past the former headquarters of The Times before taking on that brutal incline up First Street. López, Condes, and Gilchrist reached the summit with ease.
A downhill path thankfully followed to the highlight of the tour: The Fort Moore Pioneer Memorial. An 80-foot-long waterfall cascaded into a shallow pool that Mayor Eric Garcetti should turn into a mini-Raging Waters. Towering over us were the largest bas relief military monuments in the United States.
Captions proclaimed the glories of “the troops who helped to win the Southwest” and the “settlers who made Los Angeles a city” — never mind that Mexicans founded Los Angeles in 1781.
“It’s an awe-inspiring, unironic monument to U.S. colonialism,” López said dryly.
“This is gross,” Gilchrist cracked.
Condes pointed out a smaller plaque. Lost among a dogpile of etched names was that of Daisuke “Dike” Nagano, a pioneering Japanese American architect who designed the Fort Moore monument.
“Just a decade before he did this, he was in an internment camp,” she said.
López didn’t even get into how whites regularly lynched Mexicans here — because I already knew that part, at least.
My guides wanted to push to Exposition Park, but my calves declined the invite. So we zipped through Chinatown before ending up in Olvera Street, long derided as a fake tourist trap and not spared a ding in López’s script.
Before us was something else: Latinos eating, shopping, and even posing on the area’s infamous burro while wearing ponchos and bandoliers. Business was finally returning to the shopping district after months of coronavirus-caused shutdowns.
“People make history real,” López said. “People make it their own. We have to move forward together to make a better tomorrow.”
She doesn’t plan to offer any group rides until the coronavirus crisis is over, but you don’t need to wait that long. Visit the Los Angeles Explorer Club’s website, download the route and audio guide, and learn a better, fuller history about L.A. than whatever you learned back in high school.
But, just in case, make sure to work out those calves.


latimes--2020-09-23--Fall in Southern California begins the race between rains and Santa Ana winds

The autumn equinox was at 6:30 a.m. PDT on Tuesday , meaning there are nearly equal periods of daylight and darkness .
From now until the winter solstice in December , days will gradually get shorter and nights will get longer in the Northern Hemisphere .
The good news is that as the Northern Hemisphere tilts farther from the sun , the sun ’ s rays are less direct , and cooler daytime temperatures result , along with cooler nights .
The arrival of the rainy season is usually in about November .
The bad news is that October to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Santa Ana winds .
These strong , often hot , downslope winds can lower humidity to single digits and cause extremely dangerous fire weather conditions .
“ Every fall , Southern California hosts what I call the annual Santa Ana-rain race .
Which will arrive first , the Santa Anas or the rain ?
” said climatologist Bill Patzert .
After an apocalyptic fire season thus far , Californians have heat wave and fire fatigue , “ but there are another two months of drama ahead , ” Patzert said .
“ If @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , just wait !
” Although not a perfect picture , the most recent U.S. Drought Monitor , released on Thursday , provides “ an ominous visualization of the conditions that set us up for fires , ” Patzert said .
The map shows an intensification of the drought in the West after a heat wave that set the stage for wildfires that consumed thousands of acres and degraded air quality .
Late summer was a time of record heat that peaked on September 6 with the hottest days ever recorded in California @ @ @ @ @ @ @ degrees Fahrenheit ) , Paso Robles ( 117 ) and San Luis Obispo ( 117 ) .
Other places in the Southwest recorded unusually high temperatures , and soil moisture plummeted even as the eastern edge of the West received rain and early-season snow .
However , according to the Drought Monitor , the rain and snow merely staved off further drought intensification Even before the Santa Ana and Diablo wind seasons begin in California , the dramatic expansion of the Western drought is clearly illustrated when the current drought map is compared @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 30 .
Northern California , which had a late-starting and disappointing rainfall season , was already suffering from drought in the spring , but Southern California , which saw some unusual late-season soakers , was not yet affected by drought — although normal conditions in the southern part of the state are generally dry and fire-prone .
The most dramatic expansion of drought is seen in the Pacific Northwest and the Southwest .
Large portions of Oregon , Nevada , Utah , Colorado , Wyoming , Arizona , New Mexico and West Texas @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and some areas , especially in Utah and Nevada , are classified as in exceptional drought .
The monsoon season , during which some parts of the Southwest expect to receive about half of their moisture , has been a no-show this year , making for an historically dry summer .
“ Over the past 126 years , Arizona has never experienced a hotter or drier summer , ” said Rob Howlett , a meteorologist with the National Weather Service in Tucson .
“ These two elements are highly correlated , because @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the state bakes under intense high pressure.
” “ September rainfall is heavily influenced by tropical cyclones that move up the west coast of Mexico , but all the action has been in the Atlantic this year .
This is a common phenomenon where if one basin is very active , the opposite basin is usually dominated by sinking air that hinders tropical development ” Howlett said .
Last year ’ s monsoon was a bust in Tucson , which normally would receive 6.08 inches of rain from mid-June through September .
That @ @ @ @ @ @ @ more than an inch short of normal .
But this year ’ s monsoon is even worse : With only 1.62 inches through Sept. 19 , the current season could come close to rivaling the driest monsoon on record .
That was 1924 , when Tucson only recorded 1.59 inches .
“ And then we ’ re looking at La Niña conditions likely continuing through winter , which will have a compounding effect on drought conditions , since historically that means dry weather across the southwest , ” Howlett said .
Although La @ @ @ @ @ @ @ — weak La Niña years in 2001 and 2017 brought above-average rainfall to downtown Los Angeles — a La Niña appears to be building in the tropical Pacific , and they ’ re often a dry precursor for Southern California , Patzert agrees .
If La Niña conditions lead to a dry winter , clearly the Santa Anas will win the annual race of the elements that Patzert described , with winter rains providing only paltry relief .
“ We have to be super-duper cautious about the fire danger because the situation is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ We ’ ve written this story too many times over the last couple of decades , ” he warns .
“ It ’ s time we implement the lessons we ’ ve learned.
” As the climate heats up and dries out , those lessons include , according to Patzert , how we manage forests and zone fire-prone communities .
Also , we need to examine what kinds of building codes are required in the urban-wildland interface .
He finds our current approach to dealing with urban growth with increasingly explosive fire conditions @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and too costly .
”

The Earth rotates on an axis that is tilted 23.4 degrees, creating the seasons.
The autumn equinox was at 6:30 a.m. PDT on Tuesday, meaning there are nearly equal periods of daylight and darkness. From now until the winter solstice in December, days will gradually get shorter and nights will get longer in the Northern Hemisphere.
That’s good news and bad news for fire-scorched California.
The good news is that as the Northern Hemisphere tilts farther from the sun, the sun’s rays are less direct, and cooler daytime temperatures result, along with cooler nights. The arrival of the rainy season is usually in about November.
The sun is lower in the sky during autumn. (Paul Duginski / Los Angeles Times)
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The bad news is that October to November are the peak months for the Santa Ana winds. These strong, often hot, downslope winds can lower humidity to single digits and cause extremely dangerous fire weather conditions.
“Every fall, Southern California hosts what I call the annual Santa Ana-rain race. Which will arrive first, the Santa Anas or the rain?” said climatologist Bill Patzert.
After an apocalyptic fire season thus far, Californians have heat wave and fire fatigue, “but there are another two months of drama ahead,” Patzert said. “If you think the season is bad now, just wait!”
The most recent U.S. Drought Monitor, released on Thursday, shows the extent of the drought in the West. (Paul Duginski / Los Angeles Times)
Although not a perfect picture, the most recent U.S. Drought Monitor, released on Thursday, provides “an ominous visualization of the conditions that set us up for fires,” Patzert said.
Drought conditions as they looked at the end of April illustrate the dramatic expansion of drought in the West. (Paul Duginski / Los Angeles Times)
The map shows an intensification of the drought in the West after a heat wave that set the stage for wildfires that consumed thousands of acres and degraded air quality. Late summer was a time of record heat that peaked on September 6 with the hottest days ever recorded in California locations such as Woodland Hills (121 degrees Fahrenheit), Paso Robles (117) and San Luis Obispo (117).
Advertisement
Other places in the Southwest recorded unusually high temperatures, and soil moisture plummeted even as the eastern edge of the West received rain and early-season snow. However, according to the Drought Monitor, the rain and snow merely staved off further drought intensification
Even before the Santa Ana and Diablo wind seasons begin in California, the dramatic expansion of the Western drought is clearly illustrated when the current drought map is compared with the Drought Monitor released on April 30. Northern California, which had a late-starting and disappointing rainfall season, was already suffering from drought in the spring, but Southern California, which saw some unusual late-season soakers, was not yet affected by drought — although normal conditions in the southern part of the state are generally dry and fire-prone.
The most dramatic expansion of drought is seen in the Pacific Northwest and the Southwest. Large portions of Oregon, Nevada, Utah, Colorado, Wyoming, Arizona, New Mexico and West Texas are considered to be in extreme drought, and some areas, especially in Utah and Nevada, are classified as in exceptional drought.
The monsoon season, during which some parts of the Southwest expect to receive about half of their moisture, has been a no-show this year, making for an historically dry summer.
“Over the past 126 years, Arizona has never experienced a hotter or drier summer,” said Rob Howlett, a meteorologist with the National Weather Service in Tucson. “These two elements are highly correlated, because without cloud cover from afternoon thunderstorms, the state bakes under intense high pressure.”
It was a summer of heat and drought in the West. (Paul Duginski / Los Angeles Times)
“September rainfall is heavily influenced by tropical cyclones that move up the west coast of Mexico, but all the action has been in the Atlantic this year. This is a common phenomenon where if one basin is very active, the opposite basin is usually dominated by sinking air that hinders tropical development” Howlett said.
Last year’s monsoon was a bust in Tucson, which normally would receive 6.08 inches of rain from mid-June through September. That monsoon, at 5.06 inches, was more than an inch short of normal. But this year’s monsoon is even worse: With only 1.62 inches through Sept. 19, the current season could come close to rivaling the driest monsoon on record. That was 1924, when Tucson only recorded 1.59 inches.
“And then we’re looking at La Niña conditions likely continuing through winter, which will have a compounding effect on drought conditions, since historically that means dry weather across the southwest,” Howlett said.
Although La Niña years aren’t always dry — weak La Niña years in 2001 and 2017 brought above-average rainfall to downtown Los Angeles — a La Niña appears to be building in the tropical Pacific, and they’re often a dry precursor for Southern California, Patzert agrees.
If La Niña conditions lead to a dry winter, clearly the Santa Anas will win the annual race of the elements that Patzert described, with winter rains providing only paltry relief.
“We have to be super-duper cautious about the fire danger because the situation is incendiary,” said Patzert. “We’ve written this story too many times over the last couple of decades,” he warns. “It’s time we implement the lessons we’ve learned.”
As the climate heats up and dries out, those lessons include, according to Patzert, how we manage forests and zone fire-prone communities. Also, we need to examine what kinds of building codes are required in the urban-wildland interface.
He finds our current approach to dealing with urban growth with increasingly explosive fire conditions “unsustainable and unaffordable — too dangerous and too costly.”


latimes--2020-09-24--Remote learning has created a new audience for an old ritual: Crying in school

During the second week of distance learning , 6-year-old Ezra Karpf clicked the “ unmute ” button on his computer screen so he could ask his teacher a question .
It didn ’ t work .
Ezra ’ s frustration simmered .
Then it peaked .
Then it exploded .
“ I can ’ t unmute myself !
I can ’ t unmute myself !
” he shouted repeatedly until his mother rushed over .
The class came to a standstill .
The boy moved off-screen , like a frustrated actor storming off the stage — weeping before his rapt @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was sobbing on the floor , ” said his mother , Courtney Patterson , 44 , of Silver Spring , Md .
“ He didn ’ t want to get back to class .
He didn ’ t want the class to see him crying.
” Crying has been a ritual of school life for time immemorial .
First-day jitters .
Stage fright during a first play .
Run-in with a bully .
Best friend leaves for another friend .
Tetherball to the face .
But never before has the simple act of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and motley audience : Teachers , parents , fellow students and others participating in the often white-knuckle experiment that is remote learning in the age of the novel coronavirus .
Technology , which so many children love , has become a town crier blasting out their pain .
As the pandemic drags on , Zoom and other platforms used to teach children have provided a stage for emotional breakdowns .
Some children manage to move off-screen as the tears flow ; others turn their back to the computer screen , tugging at their @ @ @ @ @ @ @ an often fruitless attempt to hide their feelings .
“ There ’ s just so much going on for anyone , ” said Yalda T. Uhls , an assistant adjunct professor of psychology and executive director of the Center for Scholars and Storytellers at UCLA .
“ But at least adults have gone through other major catastrophes .
For [ children ] that age , moving around , being physical , singing , dancing , all that stuff is really important , and that ’ s been cut out of their lives.
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ like no one could hear him — and because , when he ’ s home , he ’ d rather be playing with his superhero toys .
“ I wanted to tell my teacher how long until it was lunchtime , ” the boy said .
“ It ’ s a little boring sitting in my little chair .
And sitting for a long time .
It ’ s not fun.
” Rattled parents across the U.S. have shared experiences of their children crying on social media .
In late August , a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ tears away with his shirt in front of his laptop went viral after his mother posted it online .
“ I just took that picture because I wanted people to see reality , ” the boy ’ s mother told CNN .
“ And then he came over and we hugged , and I was crying right along with him.
” In the San Bernardino County town of Crestline , 5-year-old Anthony Stever had an unexpected reaction to the teacher ’ s announcement of a 10-minute break .
Like a frustrated office worker @ @ @ @ @ @ @ soured , he shut his laptop .
Then he reached for a toy dinosaur and called it a day .
His mother , Jane Marie DeRosa , 32 , tried calling him back .
“ We were trying to be stern with him but not too stern , ” she said .
“ So he started crying and got all upset .
He didn ’ t want to go back.
” When he ’ s not crying , Anthony is frequently distracted .
He fidgets and logs off Zoom .
He ’ ll @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it ’ s too late , it ’ s too late , ” as a way to avoid joining class .
During class , he comes up with excuses like , “ I need a blankie , ” or “ I ’ m thirsty , ” his mother said .
Sometimes , his mother , father or grandmother will have to hold him and comfort him before he ’ s able to return to his lessons .
He has company : He ’ s far from the only child in his class who @ @ @ @ @ @ @ or leaves altogether .
Whether the schooling is happening in person or virtually , tantrums and tears happen when children aren ’ t having basic physiological and security needs met , said Carolina Valdez , professor of elementary and bilingual education at Cal State Fullerton .
Valdez , whose expertise includes trauma-informed pedagogy , added that young children in particular often haven ’ t learned how to communicate their needs .
Whether the adults in the room notice or not , children are absorbing news about the chaos or unrest in the world @ @ @ @ @ @ @ not normal .
They may struggle to sleep at night knowing their parents are stressed , or they may lose their appetite because of their own anxiety , Valdez said .
“ Most schools aren ’ t teaching emotional literacy , ” she said .
“ They ’ re not teaching kids how to name their feelings , how to be present with their feelings , how to process this in a healthy way.
” In the not-so-distant past , home was at least a shelter from the outside world into which only @ @ @ @ @ @ @ said .
Now , everyone gets a peek into children ’ s refuge — whether they like it or not .
For the first time , a teacher is also controlling their movement in their own home , Valdez said .
“ Teachers are attempting to police students ’ movements the way they probably did in their classrooms , ” she said .
Uhls , the psychology professor , said she recommends parents be honest with their children about their own limits and what ’ s going on in the world .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ about this stuff in an appropriate way for young children , ” she said , adding that parents can tell their kids : “ Yes , this is a strange time , and sometimes Mommy and Daddy get worried , but we ’ re taking care of you and you ’ re going to be safe.
” It ’ s a strategy that 47-year-old Sofia Quezada tries to use with her youngest daughter .
On her first day of remote learning , 9-year-old Priscilla Guerrero woke up extra early in her Boyle Heights @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on a cute outfit with the same excitement she did every other first day of school .
But when she tried logging into Zoom , she got an error message .
Quezada , who works from home as an administrator for the UCLA School of Medicine , tried helping her restart the program .
After a handful of attempts , Priscilla broke down in tears .
“ She kept telling me , ‘ Mommy , I ’ m gon na be late , I ’ m gon na be in big trouble , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had to talk her down from her complete panic attack.
” Quezada said she had to quell her daughter ’ s fear of her teachers being upset with her by explaining that everyone is going through a tough time .
Around the dining table , Quezada and her husband talk openly about the coronavirus , elections and whatever else may be happening in the world .
They try to answer all of their girls ’ questions .
Quezada said she tells her daughters : “ Whatever is happening in the world right now @ @ @ @ @ @ @ we ’ re going to get through this .
Yeah , we may get a little behind , but we will catch up .
It ’ s not a race.
” Jennifer Morgan , a kindergarten teacher in a small , private Christian school in an affluent San Diego neighborhood , said that during remote lessons earlier in the year , her students would duck under tables , get distracted or suddenly decide to showcase their pets to the class .
These actions didn ’ t disrupt the class too much , she @ @ @ @ @ @ @ own laptops and at least one parent was always around .
Unlike in poor neighborhoods , many of the parents were tech-savvy .
Because of her small class size , she was able to research teaching tools to help her students understand the current moment .
She read them books about mask-wearing and sang songs about the coronavirus and how to manage emotions .
Experts say this type of emotional literacy should be taught in classrooms now .
But budget cuts make it unlikely that schools will invest in such professional development for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is becoming more of a priority in the school system , but [ current teachers ] are not trained in it , ” Uhls said .
“ Teachers aren ’ t trained enough in a lot of things in America.
” Morgan said that although her experience has been better , it ’ s a different story for teachers at public schools .
From friends , she hears stories of only a third of students showing up to class .
At Morgan ’ s school , her 15-student class is back in session @ @ @ @ @ @ @ sheets divide desks and masks are required while the students move through the room .
“ I think this has highlighted inequity so much , ” said Morgan , who used to teach at public schools in Los Angeles and Pasadena .
“ Inequity in family situations , in financial situations , in language and technology capabilities .
I think , ‘ Gosh , if I had done this when I taught at a different school , it would have been so hard.
’ ” At home , Morgan ’ s husband , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ teaching his own high school literature classes while keeping an eye on their 9-year-old daughter , Tess , who is on the autism spectrum .
While he teaches the group of teenagers , they can see Tess studying in the background .
Tess sometimes taps her dad on the shoulder to ask him for help or to keep his voice down .
There haven ’ t been any tantrums , but she gets distracted , her parents said .
They offer incentives to get her to her desk , such as an afternoon @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
“ Mostly it ’ s been like , ‘ OK , honey , you have to get on the Zoom for this class , ’ ” her father said .
“ We have another Zoom ?
” she responds .
“ Ugh , gosh !
”

Sofia Quezada assists her daughters Priscilla, left, and Paulette Guerrero with virtual class from their Boyle Heights home. Tech issues on the first day of class drove 9-year-old Priscilla to tears.
During the second week of distance learning, 6-year-old Ezra Karpf clicked the “unmute” button on his computer screen so he could ask his teacher a question. It didn’t work.
Ezra’s frustration simmered. Then it peaked. Then it exploded.
“I can’t unmute myself! I can’t unmute myself!” he shouted repeatedly until his mother rushed over.
The class came to a standstill. The boy moved off-screen, like a frustrated actor storming off the stage — weeping before his rapt, digital audience.
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“My son was sobbing on the floor,” said his mother, Courtney Patterson, 44, of Silver Spring, Md. “He didn’t want to get back to class. He didn’t want the class to see him crying.”
Crying has been a ritual of school life for time immemorial. First-day jitters. Stage fright during a first play. Run-in with a bully. Best friend leaves for another friend. Tetherball to the face.
But never before has the simple act of a child weeping had such a vast and motley audience: Teachers, parents, fellow students and others participating in the often white-knuckle experiment that is remote learning in the age of the novel coronavirus.
Technology, which so many children love, has become a town crier blasting out their pain.
As the pandemic drags on, Zoom and other platforms used to teach children have provided a stage for emotional breakdowns. Some children manage to move off-screen as the tears flow; others turn their back to the computer screen, tugging at their shirts to dry the welling tears in an often fruitless attempt to hide their feelings.
“There’s just so much going on for anyone,” said Yalda T. Uhls, an assistant adjunct professor of psychology and executive director of the Center for Scholars and Storytellers at UCLA. “But at least adults have gone through other major catastrophes. For [children] that age, moving around, being physical, singing, dancing, all that stuff is really important, and that’s been cut out of their lives.”
Six-year-old Ezra Karpf shows a drawing to his first-grade Zoom class. When his “unmute” button wouldn’t work, he said, he cried because he felt like no one could hear him. (Courtney Patterson)
Ezra said he cried because he felt like no one could hear him — and because, when he’s home, he’d rather be playing with his superhero toys.
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“I wanted to tell my teacher how long until it was lunchtime,” the boy said. “It’s a little boring sitting in my little chair. And sitting for a long time. It’s not fun.”
Rattled parents across the U.S. have shared experiences of their children crying on social media. In late August, a photograph of a 5-year-old boy wiping his tears away with his shirt in front of his laptop went viral after his mother posted it online.
“I just took that picture because I wanted people to see reality,” the boy’s mother told CNN. “And then he came over and we hugged, and I was crying right along with him.”
In the San Bernardino County town of Crestline, 5-year-old Anthony Stever had an unexpected reaction to the teacher’s announcement of a 10-minute break. Like a frustrated office worker who had decided the day had already soured, he shut his laptop.
Then he reached for a toy dinosaur and called it a day.
Liam, left, and Anthony Stever, ages 3 and 5, work together on a school assignment at home. Anthony is often frustrated or distracted with virtual learning, his mother said. (Jane Marie DeRosa)
His mother, Jane Marie DeRosa, 32, tried calling him back.
“We were trying to be stern with him but not too stern,” she said. “So he started crying and got all upset. He didn’t want to go back.”
When he’s not crying, Anthony is frequently distracted. He fidgets and logs off Zoom. He’ll tell his parents: “No, it’s too late, it’s too late,” as a way to avoid joining class. During class, he comes up with excuses like, “I need a blankie,” or “I’m thirsty,” his mother said.
Sometimes, his mother, father or grandmother will have to hold him and comfort him before he’s able to return to his lessons. He has company: He’s far from the only child in his class who gets distracted, starts eating during class or leaves altogether.
Whether the schooling is happening in person or virtually, tantrums and tears happen when children aren’t having basic physiological and security needs met, said Carolina Valdez, professor of elementary and bilingual education at Cal State Fullerton.
Valdez, whose expertise includes trauma-informed pedagogy, added that young children in particular often haven’t learned how to communicate their needs.
Whether the adults in the room notice or not, children are absorbing news about the chaos or unrest in the world. They often perceive that things are not normal. They may struggle to sleep at night knowing their parents are stressed, or they may lose their appetite because of their own anxiety, Valdez said.
“Most schools aren’t teaching emotional literacy,” she said. “They’re not teaching kids how to name their feelings, how to be present with their feelings, how to process this in a healthy way.”
In the not-so-distant past, home was at least a shelter from the outside world into which only family and close friends came, Valdez said. Now, everyone gets a peek into children’s refuge — whether they like it or not. For the first time, a teacher is also controlling their movement in their own home, Valdez said.
“Teachers are attempting to police students’ movements the way they probably did in their classrooms,” she said.
Anthony Stever, 5, sits for a Zoom class. When he gave up on class one day, closing the laptop, “we were trying to be stern with him but not too stern,” his mother said. (Jane Marie DeRosa)
Uhls, the psychology professor, said she recommends parents be honest with their children about their own limits and what’s going on in the world.
“Adults should really be talking to them about this stuff in an appropriate way for young children,” she said, adding that parents can tell their kids: “Yes, this is a strange time, and sometimes Mommy and Daddy get worried, but we’re taking care of you and you’re going to be safe.”
It’s a strategy that 47-year-old Sofia Quezada tries to use with her youngest daughter.
On her first day of remote learning, 9-year-old Priscilla Guerrero woke up extra early in her Boyle Heights home, did her hair and put on a cute outfit with the same excitement she did every other first day of school. But when she tried logging into Zoom, she got an error message.
On the first day of L.A. Unified remote learning this fall, Priscilla Guerrero feared she’d “be in big trouble” when her Zoom login wouldn’t work, her mother said: “I had to talk her down from her complete panic attack.” (Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)
Quezada, who works from home as an administrator for the UCLA School of Medicine, tried helping her restart the program. After a handful of attempts, Priscilla broke down in tears.
“She kept telling me, ‘Mommy, I’m gonna be late, I’m gonna be in big trouble,’” Quezada said. “I had to talk her down from her complete panic attack.”
Quezada said she had to quell her daughter’s fear of her teachers being upset with her by explaining that everyone is going through a tough time.
Around the dining table, Quezada and her husband talk openly about the coronavirus, elections and whatever else may be happening in the world. They try to answer all of their girls’ questions.
Quezada said she tells her daughters: “Whatever is happening in the world right now is scary and it sucks, but we’re going to get through this. Yeah, we may get a little behind, but we will catch up. It’s not a race.”
Jennifer Morgan, a kindergarten teacher in a small, private Christian school in an affluent San Diego neighborhood, said that during remote lessons earlier in the year, her students would duck under tables, get distracted or suddenly decide to showcase their pets to the class.
These actions didn’t disrupt the class too much, she said. All the kids had their own laptops and at least one parent was always around. Unlike in poor neighborhoods, many of the parents were tech-savvy.
Because of her small class size, she was able to research teaching tools to help her students understand the current moment. She read them books about mask-wearing and sang songs about the coronavirus and how to manage emotions.
Experts say this type of emotional literacy should be taught in classrooms now. But budget cuts make it unlikely that schools will invest in such professional development for teachers.
“I think social-emotional learning is becoming more of a priority in the school system, but [current teachers] are not trained in it,” Uhls said. “Teachers aren’t trained enough in a lot of things in America.”
Morgan said that although her experience has been better, it’s a different story for teachers at public schools. From friends, she hears stories of only a third of students showing up to class.
At Morgan’s school, her 15-student class is back in session — no more remote learning. Plastic sheets divide desks and masks are required while the students move through the room.
“I think this has highlighted inequity so much,” said Morgan, who used to teach at public schools in Los Angeles and Pasadena. “Inequity in family situations, in financial situations, in language and technology capabilities. I think, ‘Gosh, if I had done this when I taught at a different school, it would have been so hard.’”
At home, Morgan’s husband, Glenn, struggles with the balance of teaching his own high school literature classes while keeping an eye on their 9-year-old daughter, Tess, who is on the autism spectrum.
While he teaches the group of teenagers, they can see Tess studying in the background. Tess sometimes taps her dad on the shoulder to ask him for help or to keep his voice down.
There haven’t been any tantrums, but she gets distracted, her parents said. They offer incentives to get her to her desk, such as an afternoon at the swimming pool or a treat.
“Mostly it’s been like, ‘OK, honey, you have to get on the Zoom for this class,’” her father said.
“We have another Zoom?” she responds. “Ugh, gosh!”


latimes--2020-09-24--Column: It's time for California to retrofit buildings for wildfires as it does for earthquakes

California should put the same effort into preparing buildings to survive wildfires that it has retrofitting for earthquakes .
That ’ s the view of UC Merced fire scientist Crystal Kolden , a former firefighter with the U.S. Forest Service .
California needs “ policies that support individuals and communities to make structures more resistant to fire — replacing roofs and other exterior building materials with ones that are resistant to burning , ” Kolden says in a Q & A with the Public Policy Institute of California .
“ It will be expensive , ” she continues , “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in earthquake retrofitting ?
We need to look at wildfire the same way with a massive investment to make communities more resistant to fire.
” “ Trillions ” may be a reach .
Maybe hundreds of billions .
Whatever .
We ’ ve spent a ton on readying ourselves for catastrophic temblors .
Wildfires and quakes are inevitable in California .
We ’ ve made a pretty good stab at bracing against quakes but have only recently begun to wake up about wildfires .
Also inevitable are torrential rains that can cause devastating @ @ @ @ @ @ @ We ’ ve spent many billions erecting dams and levees to hold back rampaging floodwaters .
There are nearly 1,500 dams in the state , many of them operated , in part , for flood control .
“ We have an enormous number of dams and a crazy network of aqueducts and canals , ” Kolden told me when I called her .
“ We also spend an enormous amount of money preparing for a tsunami .
How many tsunamis have there been on the West Coast ?
But we ’ ve made @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are tsunami warning signs , evacuation signs all along the coast .
“ We ’ ve not made that type of state or federal investment in addressing wildfires.
” Fighting fires , yes .
But retrofitting residential homes and commercial buildings to resist the fires , not nearly enough .
Kolden grew up in Seattle and graduated from Cornell with a history degree .
“ I had no intention of going to law school or becoming a high school history teacher , ” she says , “ so I went to work for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was working outside.
” Kolden worked on a timber crew near Placerville , east of Sacramento .
In the fall , she ’ d do prescribed burning to clean up forest floors — something the feds and the state have been doing increasingly less .
“ I got hooked on fire , ” she says .
“ So I became a wildland firefighter .
After a couple of years , I moved to fire ecology .
I wanted to better understand why we were managing fires the way we were and started grad @ @ @ @ @ @ @ fire science professor in July after being an associate professor at the University of Idaho .
One thing that upsets Kolden is the common cry of many citizens that local governments shouldn ’ t allow people burned out of their homes to rebuild in rural areas ravaged by wildfire — and shouldn ’ t even have permitted them to erect housing there in the first place .
“ I get frustrated when I hear people say we shouldn ’ t live in outlying areas , ” she says , “ because they fail @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in California there is flammable vegetation — 98 % of the state ’ s vegetation is fire-prone under the right conditions .
“ We just saw coastal redwoods burn [ near Santa Cruz ] .
People who lived there didn ’ t think they had to worry about wildfires because redwoods are wet and typically don ’ t burn .
What we ’ re seeing with climate change is that these places that haven ’ t burned very frequently are burning more frequently.
” “ So when people ask me , ” she @ @ @ @ @ @ @ safe place to live in California where I don ’ t have to worry about fire ?
’ the only place that fits that description is in the middle of the urban core in cities — downtown L.A. , downtown San Francisco .
If you live in the urban jungle , as some call it , you don ’ t have to worry about wildfire.
” But you may have to worry about your wallet .
People are moving into the countryside because they can ’ t afford city housing costs that have @ @ @ @ @ @ @ t told people , ‘ You can ’ t live on these earthquake faults.
’ Nobody suggested not rebuilding the Bay Bridge because it was not a safe place for a bridge , ” Kolden says .
“ It was made safer so when the next earthquake hits , there ’ s much less probability that it will collapse .
“ That ’ s the conversation we need to be having about wildfires.
” It cost $ 6.3 billion to erect a new eastern span of the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge after it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ earthquake .
“ To suggest we shouldn ’ t allow people to live in these [ fire-prone ] areas is very much a straw man and doesn ’ t address the problem , ” Kolden says .
“ It ’ s addressing an untenable solution .
“ The real solution is to figure how to live in these fire-prone places so they don ’ t have disasters .
What we need are stronger building codes .
And that ’ s the analogy to earthquakes.
” All of California is covered by a uniform @ @ @ @ @ @ @ can stand up to earthquakes .
Retrofitting can also be required .
That ’ s true whether the region has faults or not .
But tough code requirements to protect against wildfires are spotty .
They ’ re imposed only in places the state deems fire-prone .
And the state doesn ’ t always get it right .
One example : some of the wine country around Santa Rosa two years ago .
Wildfires should be treated with the same respect and fear as California ’ s ages-old menace , earthquakes .

Firefighters continue to battle the Bobcat fire north of Mt. Wilson along Angeles Crest Highway on Tuesday.
California should put the same effort into preparing buildings to survive wildfires that it has retrofitting for earthquakes.
That’s the view of UC Merced fire scientist Crystal Kolden, a former firefighter with the U.S. Forest Service.
She makes sense.
California needs “policies that support individuals and communities to make structures more resistant to fire — replacing roofs and other exterior building materials with ones that are resistant to burning,” Kolden says in a Q&A with the Public Policy Institute of California.
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“It will be expensive,” she continues, “but how many trillions has California invested in earthquake retrofitting? We need to look at wildfire the same way with a massive investment to make communities more resistant to fire.”
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.
“Trillions” may be a reach. Maybe hundreds of billions. Whatever. We’ve spent a ton on readying ourselves for catastrophic temblors.
Wildfires and quakes are inevitable in California. We’ve made a pretty good stab at bracing against quakes but have only recently begun to wake up about wildfires.
Also inevitable are torrential rains that can cause devastating flooding, particularly in Northern California. We’ve spent many billions erecting dams and levees to hold back rampaging floodwaters. There are nearly 1,500 dams in the state, many of them operated, in part, for flood control.
“We have an enormous number of dams and a crazy network of aqueducts and canals,” Kolden told me when I called her.
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“We also spend an enormous amount of money preparing for a tsunami. How many tsunamis have there been on the West Coast? But we’ve made a substantial investment in that. There are tsunami warning signs, evacuation signs all along the coast.
“We’ve not made that type of state or federal investment in addressing wildfires.”
Fighting fires, yes. But retrofitting residential homes and commercial buildings to resist the fires, not nearly enough.
Kolden grew up in Seattle and graduated from Cornell with a history degree.
“I had no intention of going to law school or becoming a high school history teacher,” she says, “so I went to work for [the Forest Service] because it was working outside.”
Kolden worked on a timber crew near Placerville, east of Sacramento. In the fall, she’d do prescribed burning to clean up forest floors — something the feds and the state have been doing increasingly less.
“I got hooked on fire,” she says. “So I became a wildland firefighter. After a couple of years, I moved to fire ecology. I wanted to better understand why we were managing fires the way we were and started grad school.”
She became a UC Merced fire science professor in July after being an associate professor at the University of Idaho.
One thing that upsets Kolden is the common cry of many citizens that local governments shouldn’t allow people burned out of their homes to rebuild in rural areas ravaged by wildfire — and shouldn’t even have permitted them to erect housing there in the first place.
“I get frustrated when I hear people say we shouldn’t live in outlying areas,” she says, “because they fail to acknowledge that in nearly every place in California there is flammable vegetation — 98% of the state’s vegetation is fire-prone under the right conditions.
“We just saw coastal redwoods burn [near Santa Cruz]. People who lived there didn’t think they had to worry about wildfires because redwoods are wet and typically don’t burn. What we’re seeing with climate change is that these places that haven’t burned very frequently are burning more frequently.”
“So when people ask me,” she continues, “‘Where is a safe place to live in California where I don’t have to worry about fire?’ the only place that fits that description is in the middle of the urban core in cities — downtown L.A., downtown San Francisco. If you live in the urban jungle, as some call it, you don’t have to worry about wildfire.”
But you may have to worry about your wallet. People are moving into the countryside because they can’t afford city housing costs that have become ridiculous.
“We haven’t told people, ‘You can’t live on these earthquake faults.’ Nobody suggested not rebuilding the Bay Bridge because it was not a safe place for a bridge,” Kolden says. “It was made safer so when the next earthquake hits, there’s much less probability that it will collapse.
“That’s the conversation we need to be having about wildfires.”
It cost $6.3 billion to erect a new eastern span of the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge after it was destroyed by the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake.
“To suggest we shouldn’t allow people to live in these [fire-prone] areas is very much a straw man and doesn’t address the problem,” Kolden says. “It’s addressing an untenable solution.
“The real solution is to figure how to live in these fire-prone places so they don’t have disasters. What we need are stronger building codes. And that’s the analogy to earthquakes.”
All of California is covered by a uniform building code aimed at making sure structures can stand up to earthquakes. Retrofitting can also be required. That’s true whether the region has faults or not.
But tough code requirements to protect against wildfires are spotty. They’re imposed only in places the state deems fire-prone. And the state doesn’t always get it right. One example: some of the wine country around Santa Rosa two years ago.
Wildfires should be treated with the same respect and fear as California’s ages-old menace, earthquakes.


latimes--2020-09-24--Off-duty L.A. County deputy shoots man in parking lot after seeing him looking in cars, department s

Off-duty L.A. County deputy shoots man in parking lot after seeing him looking in cars, department says

An off-duty Los Angeles County sheriff ’ s deputy shot and wounded a man Wednesday evening after he allegedly moved toward the deputy and reached toward his waistband .
The incident occurred after the man was confronted about an attempt to break into cars in a parking structure next to the Whittier Courthouse , according to the Sheriff Department ’ s preliminary account .
The agency said in a statement that a knife “ belonging to the suspect ” was recovered at the scene .
The suspect is hospitalized in stable condition .
Investigators did not say where the knife @ @ @ @ @ @ @ man to the weapon .
A second person who accompanied the wounded man fled the scene and remains at large , officials said .
The off-duty deputy was walking to his personal car in a parking lot in the 7300 block of Painter Avenue when he saw “ two individuals looking into windows of parked vehicles , including his own.
” The deputy told investigators he confronted the men about what they were doing .
“ One of the individuals began to ultimately advance on the deputy , at which time he identified @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the L.A. County Sheriff ’ s Department , the agency ’ s statement said .
“ The suspect then reached for his waistband as if he was going to retrieve a weapon and continued to advance on the deputy , ” the statement said .
At that point , the deputy opened fire , according to the department .
The man was hit in the upper body .
He was taken to a hospital .
Sheriff ’ s Department homicide detectives are investigating the shooting .
Officials did not say whether any surveillance @ @ @ @ @ @ @ shooting .

An off-duty L.A. County sheriff’s deputy shot a man Wednesday evening who moved toward him while reaching for his waistband after being confronted about looking into cars near the Whittier Courthouse, the Sheriff’s Department said.
An off-duty Los Angeles County sheriff’s deputy shot and wounded a man Wednesday evening after he allegedly moved toward the deputy and reached toward his waistband.
The incident occurred after the man was confronted about an attempt to break into cars in a parking structure next to the Whittier Courthouse, according to the Sheriff Department’s preliminary account.
The agency said in a statement that a knife “belonging to the suspect” was recovered at the scene. The suspect is hospitalized in stable condition.
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Investigators did not say where the knife was found or how they connected the man to the weapon. A second person who accompanied the wounded man fled the scene and remains at large, officials said.
The off-duty deputy was walking to his personal car in a parking lot in the 7300 block of Painter Avenue when he saw “two individuals looking into windows of parked vehicles, including his own.”
The deputy told investigators he confronted the men about what they were doing.
“One of the individuals began to ultimately advance on the deputy, at which time he identified himself as an off-duty deputy” with the L.A. County Sheriff’s Department, the agency’s statement said.
“The suspect then reached for his waistband as if he was going to retrieve a weapon and continued to advance on the deputy,” the statement said.
At that point, the deputy opened fire, according to the department. The man was hit in the upper body. He was taken to a hospital.
Sheriff’s Department homicide detectives are investigating the shooting. Officials did not say whether any surveillance cameras in the parking structure captured the shooting.