Altruism in Tragedy: Shelter, Support, Community
Around 160 evacuees are sleeping at the Westwood Recreation Center, but “it’s not a matter of registration,” said Nancy Castles, Los Angeles spokesperson and volunteer with the Red Cross.
“What we have are more people coming and going, not sleeping here,” she said. “They’re coming here to get the meals, get information… It’s very fluid.”
In spite of the fluidity, a mini-community formed quickly between residents. One evacuee, decked out in a full ensemble of donated clothes, strums quietly on his guitar to the room of cots.
Another hotspot is the Malibu family with a goat, Coco, whom residents visit at his outdoor perch in droves. His owners attest the Westwood facility was the first shelter that was accommodating, as the animal-specific centers provoked “too much anxiety” for the caprine celebrity.
These sweet sources of relaxation are few and far between as the Palisades and Eaton fires leap with minimal containment and the evacuation zones multiply.
But the morale has shifted. “The first couple nights, (evacuees) were still in shock. They’re now gathering their wits about them, trying to focus on ‘what’s my next step?’” said Castles. “The initial shock seems to be over.”
Out of shock, residents attest to feeling more talkative and emotional.
The services are changing, too, in response to resident needs. Westwood now offers mental health specialists and FEMA assistance with housing vouchers.
Across town at the Pan Pacific Recreation Center, around 200 evacuees are experiencing similar mental shifts. With the newly acquired bandwidth to elaborate on their fears, many are communicating a yearn for regaining normalcy, knowingly hindered by the reality of devastation.
Some shortages of material have struck the centers with pitfalls. On Sunday, Jan. 12, a gentleman was rushed out of Pan Pacific by EMS. His complications arose without the necessary heart medication left behind in his fire-slain home.
Though the shelters are run in cooperation with the government-owned facilities that stage them, Castles explains that the Red Cross subsists on donations. “We don’t receive loans from the government. And by doing that, we’re able to accept anyone who needs assistance.”
In this crisis, the sheltered population ranges from “the ones who are used to the million-dollar mansions” to “homeless people… camping and sleeping in that area.” At the centers, “they’re all treated the same way.”
For instance, one upbeat evacuee, Mehdi Khoshouei, is residing outside Westwood in a massive RV he drove from a beachfront park. Thanks to the center’s openness and “preferable location,” he and his adopted dog are still able to benefit from their services.
To support these centers, the shelters request fiscal donations at redcross.org and to the Salvation Army. Also, blood.
“There is a shortage of blood, and all the disasters we’ve had have just kept drawing on the blood reserve,” said Castles, who encourages Santa Monica College to consider a blood drive.
One item warned from donation, Castles said, is “clothes that are used clothes. We can’t really work with that.” Many “have been sitting there since Tuesday night.”
Physical donations in general are less encouraged. The surplus of items is an excessive workload for the shelter’s overbeaten volunteers, many of whom are cajoled into shifts of a minimum of 12 hours.
Eric Calhoun, Los Angeles’ Director of Parks and Recreation and an SMC alum, is frustrated with misleading social media narratives that demonize an unsupportive public.
On the contrary, he says, they’ve been doing incredibly well with community support.
Some well-meaning citizens stop by the shelter to exert their charity independently, with personal offerings like transport, legal services, and empty bedrooms to stay in.
The Red Cross bends to the people on that one. Castles said, “if a resident wants to accept a drive from a total stranger, we cannot stop them.”