
Our house was fumigated this weekend (not a nice process, but ‘tis over), so we spent the weekend in West Los Angeles. I suppose there are worse ways of killing time while others were at our home killing bugs.
We hadn’t spent a lot of time in LA for several years. Things have changed since we lived in the city’s Fairfax district and muddled through some turbulent days. I was seven months pregnant when the city erupted over Rodney King. My son was two when the Northridge earthquake shook the city (and our house) to its core.
Back then, it was everyone for themselves. I had workmates who bragged about having guns at the ready during the civil unrest. During the earthquake, our neighbor proudly cranked his generator and watched television (loudly) while the rest of us sat in the dark without power.
This weekend, we saw the smoke rise above Malibu once again, and a different tone erupted through the city. We felt a genuine concern – not that the fire would spread but that it was happening again to one of the area’s most gorgeous strips of land.
Also, there’s a “green” vibe that’s new. People actually pick up trash. They shop with reusable totes and sit in coffee shops reading books on global warming. In Westwood, two women sat by their Mac and discussed a project that involved something to do with solar energy (a bit too esoteric for us, but we got the general line of thought).
Of course, it was LA, so we could have expected the
Neiman Marcus windows advising customers to “go green,” but also buy their overpriced trinkets (oh come on, that’s just silly!). And, yes, some people drive Prius cars, although there are far more Lexus cars cruising Wilshire Blvd.
Yet, overall, Los Angeles seems to be coming back -- back to a community of sorts. Good for LA … finally.