Blog archive
April 2025
At Dawn II
04/30/2025
Family Hunt for Our Old House
04/30/2025
Getting Mail, A Glimmer of Altadena Spirit Showing Through
04/30/2025
My Last Duchess by Robert Browning
04/30/2025
Mysteries, Yes
04/30/2025
No Exit by Bob Heinrich
04/30/2025
Pasadena Village
04/30/2025
Sunday Morning Coming Down by Kris Kristofferson
04/30/2025
The Pasadena Civic Center
04/30/2025
Upon Hearing Your Building is up for Sale by Gabriel Cortez
04/30/2025
Status - April 28, 2025
04/28/2025
Art From the Ashes
04/24/2025
Informal Discussion on Current Events
04/23/2025
Gratitude for the Village: Supporting Me Through the Fire
04/14/2025
The Log in Our Eyes
04/13/2025
Evacuation and Soot
04/07/2025
March 2025
About Senior Solutions
03/28/2025
Building a Bridge With Journey House, A Home Base for Former Foster Youth
03/28/2025
Come for the Knitting, Stay for the Conversation... and the Cookies
03/28/2025
Creating Safe and Smart Spaces with Home Technology
03/28/2025
Finding Joy in My Role on The Pasadena Village Board
03/28/2025
I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up!
03/28/2025
Managing Anxiety
03/28/2025
Message from Our President: Keeping Pasadena Village Strong Together
03/28/2025
My Favorite Easter Gift
03/28/2025
The Hidden History of Black Women in WWII
03/28/2025
Urinary Tract Infection – Watch Out!
03/28/2025
Volunteer Coordinator and Blade-Runner
03/28/2025
Continuing Commitment to Combating Racism
03/26/2025
Goodbye and Keep Cold by Robert Frost
03/13/2025
What The Living Do by Marie Howe
03/13/2025
Racism is Not Genetic
03/11/2025
Bill Gould, The First
03/07/2025
THIS IS A CHAPTER, NOT MY WHOLE STORY
03/07/2025
Dramatic Flair: Villagers Share their Digital Art
03/03/2025
Empowering Senior LGBTQ+ Caregivers
03/03/2025
A Life Never Anticipated
03/02/2025
Eaton Fire Changes Life
03/02/2025
February 2025
Commemorating Black History Month 2025
02/28/2025
Transportation at the Pasadena Village
02/28/2025
A Look at Proposition 19
02/27/2025
Behind the Scenes: Understanding the Pasadena Village Board and Its Role
02/27/2025
Beyond and Within the Village: The Power of One
02/27/2025
Celebrating Black Voices
02/27/2025
Creatively Supporting Our Village Community
02/27/2025
Decluttering: More Than The Name Implies
02/27/2025
Hidden Gems of Forest Lawn Museum
02/27/2025
LA River Walk
02/27/2025
Message from the President
02/27/2025
Phoenix Rising
02/27/2025
1619 Conversations with West African Art
02/25/2025
The Party Line
02/24/2025
Bluebird by Charles Bukowski
02/17/2025
Dreams by Langston Hughes
02/17/2025
Haiku - Four by Fritzie
02/17/2025
Haikus - Nine by Virginia
02/17/2025
Wind and Fire
02/17/2025
Partnerships Amplify Relief Efforts
02/07/2025
Another Community Giving Back
02/05/2025
Diary of Disaster Response
02/05/2025
Eaton Fire: A Community United in Loss and Recovery
02/05/2025
Healing Powers of Creative Energy
02/05/2025
Living the Mission
02/05/2025
Message from the President: Honoring Black History Month
02/05/2025
Surviving and Thriving: Elder Health Considerations After the Fires
02/05/2025
Treasure Hunting in The Ashes
02/05/2025
Villager's Stories
02/05/2025
A Beginning of Healing
02/03/2025
Hectic Evacuation From Eaton Canyon Fire
02/02/2025
Hurricanes and Fires are Different Monsters
02/02/2025
January 2025
At Dawn by Ed Mervine
01/31/2025
Thank you for Relief Efforts
01/31/2025
Needs as of January 25, 2025
01/24/2025
Eaton Fire Information
01/23/2025
Escape to San Diego
01/19/2025
Finding Courage Amid Tragedy
01/19/2025
Responses of Pasadena Village February 22, 2025
01/18/2025
A Tale of Three Fires
01/14/2025
Pasadena Village
By Nancy PinePosted: 04/30/2025
By the end of five days with two of the kindest and most perceptive people I’ve ever known, I had gained a little equilibrium with long walks, lots of quiet time and every evening with some of their friends connected to Altadena and struggling to support and understand the disaster. They helped me start looking for a Pasadena hotel that was convenient without my car which was trapped in the retirement community. I needed to be closer to Altadena and what was going on with the support community of the Pasadena Village, a loose, but effective organization for people over 55 who want to be independent as long as they can. The Village provides much of that plus a positive community. I opted to stay at the Hilton, filled with evacuated people and fire fighters. It was within walking distance of Target, a bookstore plus an overflowing secondhand bookshop, a good restaurant, places to walk and friends.
My friends delivered me to the Hilton Hotel in Pasadena where fire engines lined the street. I joined the guests carrying their belongings in a plastic bag or two. The next morning while I ate oatmeal, I watched scores of exhausted fire fighters trudge through the front door carrying oversized duffels, headed for their rooms. Presumably they’d been battling fierce flames all night.
I let friends in the Pasadena Village know I had returned and was okay and started checking on others. I spent most of those mornings on my computer or phone--nonstop. Betty Ann took me to TJs to add to what my LA friends had given me so I had enough for several days of meals. Then to Target, a good walk. One pair of pants found. (I had only one with me. I needed them so I could wash the good ones.) They were thin and much too long, but oh well. I texted Betty Ann who lives near the hotel. “Do you have scissors I can borrow to cut off these pants? Also, some manilla envelops?”
The next day, she appeared with those plus an office supply bag of stamps, envelopes, paper clips, sticky notes and more. What a treasure. Then began my hunt for a room where I could stay. Betty Ann heard of one that was still vacant and we went to see it immediately. The arrangements were complicated, and it wouldn’t work out. She called Paula. Yes, she had a spare room, and that afternoon we visited there. It was perfect, and we enjoyed a relaxed chat. What a pleasure.
The Village had its first zoom meeting to help check in with each other. Many of us looked pretty haggard. Some had lost their houses completely, many others were evacuated and had had no idea if their houses stood. But it was a warm reminder that we were in this together, there was lots of support and if we were able, we could begin helping each other.
Bruce, who was arranging a Village get together for those living in that area, made it his mission to track down those of us relocated there. And yes, he’d give me a ride. It was a major success - 21 people, good potluck luncheon, and nonstop talking.
The next day I texted Nathan, one of a few very hardworking Village staff coordinating the various portions run by members. I had a doctor’s relocated appointment because of the fire.
“Would it be possible to get a ride to the Polenzani’s brunch after an appointment in Arcadia?”
Soon a reply. “Wayne will be there. He’ll also take you back to the Hilton afterward.”
The Village is a small, but mighty organization. That afternoon Betty Ann took me to the post office and worked in her car while I waited for my mail along with scores of Altadenans for well over an hour. The Altadena post office had burned to the ground.
And so it has gone. Gatherings, opportunities – too many! – getting in touch with friends I have developed over the years of being in the Village.
I’m now at Paula’s – in her beautiful, tranquil home. I took a moment to sit on the front porch in a comfortable wicker chair this morning and took a video for my far away family. With it I said:
Just walked in the neighborhood and realized my body is plain tired. It needs protein and rest which it’s getting. In this home I’m surrounded by tranquility and there is a Ganehsa statue tucked in several welcoming spots – the Remover of Obstacles. Our Saturday evening group gathering of friends is tomorrow. Dump trucks are beginning to go up the street. Perhaps to take care of a huge, uprooted oak. I’ll send my new address in next text.
*This submission is part of a four piece post. The other contributions are entitled:
Getting Mail, A Glimmer of Altadena Spirit Showing Through
The Pasadena Civic Center
Family Hunt for Our Old House