Opinion

“It’s hard — if not impossible — to discern the root causes and solutions for managing the Los Angeles fires. At this point, it’s far too early for definitive answers. Yet that hasn’t stopped the flow of mis- and disinformation to the public, making it difficult to know what to believe.
When the fires were raging, President Trump seemed more focused on assigning blame to Governor Newsom and the State of California for alleged poor pre-fire management. The timing of this criticism felt odd, given the widespread public concern and the heroic efforts of first responders and other agencies. It was hardly the morale boost the situation called for.”

by Mick Rhodes | editor@claremont-courier.com Remember when we all felt smug “cutting the cord” to cable TV and sticking it to the greedy cable providers with this newfangled streaming thing? No more ads! No more bills for hundreds of channels we never watched! Hooray for technology! Then the pandemic lockdown drove us all indoors. Before March 2020 […]

“Moving to Claremont from my childhood home in Modesto last summer was the start of a new life chapter. We swiftly settled into our new routines of work and academics … then a tug of longing arose. I reminisced about volunteering back home. One October day I stepped into the Economy Shop for a peek. While a customer investigated a pair of Bluetooth headphones, the gentleman behind the counter laughed. ‘We need young minds in here to help us figure this stuff out,’ he said. That evening, I sent an email inquiry, and after an orientation session, I was on the roster.”

“At my age, you are reminded of death simply because you are older and more likely to know more people who have died. This includes family, friends, someone you used to work with, a favorite celebrity. I’m asked to provide end-of-life instructions and a power of attorney for healthcare every time I have a procedure, no matter how minor. That doesn’t let you forget either. So far — knock on wood — everything has turned out okay. But I know I have fewer days ahead of me than I do behind. It doesn’t matter when the days ahead seem endless; it’s when you start to number them that you begin to think.”

The fires had been burning out of control for such a long time. So many homes and businesses had been entirely destroyed, so many people had lost so much and endured such great adversity.

“I’ve always loved their song — gentle and soothing when light winds blew, cacophonous and urgent, like a frantic bebop band, during Santa Anas. But when the metallic clang of our ragtag band of front porch wind chimes startled me awake at 1:10 a.m. last Saturday, their tune had taken on a new foreboding. Were the winds kicking up still more tragedy? I wonder if I’ll ever feel the same way about our wind chimes, the Santa Anas, or Los Angeles.”

“I was going to write a nice little column about how Claremont has changed over the years. Then there were the fires. And, suddenly, in the blink of an eye, my column wasn’t so nice, wasn’t so little. For many of us, the fires are our story. They have so far have wiped out tens of thousands of acres, thousands of structures, and caused at least 25 deaths, and may well go on to do who knows how much more destruction. They are my story.”

“I woke early and made a pot of good coffee. Outside, bright sunshine mingled with storm clouds. The lake was blue again, magnificent, massive, and soothing. The condo had three east-facing balconies, each with a 180-degree view of the lake. I stepped outside on the top floor to take it in. Deep breaths. Gratitude. My quasi-spiritual moment was interrupted when I noticed a set of very large bear tracks in the fresh snow below, trailed by a smaller set. I alerted the kids. They were a little shaken. It seemed dad’s weekslong nagging about ursine etiquette suddenly made sense.”

“The point here is we are not necessarily obligated to jump aboard the seasonally trendy self-improvement bandwagon. Do you feel okay? Do your kids mostly like you? Are you north of bankrupt? If you answered yes to some or all of these, well then, you deserve a pat on the back and cocktail. It ain’t easy staying afloat, especially in Southern California. No need to get all nervous about your station or waistline. Take a gap year.”

“As has been previously noted, the holidays have been a bit of a whirlwind around here. Lucky for me my wife Lisa is a perennial holiday superstar, and has once again made our home beautiful and festive. So, as I contemplate my annual year-end gratitude list, I must again start with my blind luck in marrying up. Way up. How Lisa maintains her joyful outlook and saintlike kindness with me around all the time is a profound mystery. She’s the engine that makes our life happen. I’m so grateful she kept me around another year.”

“By permitting the public to use the ski lifts and access the restaurant and go skiing, but forbidding anyone to hike up to an untouched Mt. Baldy (and neighboring mountains) it seems like the Forest Service just hasn’t thought this through. We need a more pragmatic approach how to protect the burned soil and enforce the closures while minimizing damage to local businesses and the livelihood of Mt. Baldy residents.”

“I never saw a bear in the nearly three years I lived in Tahoe. They seemed to want nothing to do with humans back then. They were certainly around; we reported on sightings and reminded folks to keep their exterior trash bins locked up, especially during fall when our ursine friends were bulking up for their winter nap. But while their potential for mayhem was certainly respected and well established, aside from a few knocked over trash cans or the occasional midday stroll across State Route 28 they were regarded as peaceful symbols of the nearby wilderness, almost loveable mascots. But that was 30 years ago. Tahoe has changed.”

“I want to be the guy in the ad strolling down a wintery city sidewalk, bundled up and smiling, with an armful of beautifully wrapped packages. But, I’m the sweaty guy in his pajamas hunched over his laptop in the wee hours illuminated by the sickly glow, overcompensating again for falling short on holiday cheer and gratitude, frantically filling my Amazon cart with kids’ gifts. I’m that guy.”

“The first time I saw Eddie Neville was at a party in Glendora in 1982. My punk band Human Therapy was playing, and he and his group, Red Brigade, walked in like they owned the place. From a faraway land called Ontario, they were dressed to the nines with spiked hair, engineer boots, torn jeans, leather jackets, and studded wristbands. I was in awe.”

By John Neiuber | Special to the Courier The Claremont Courier has been chronicling the culture of Claremont for going on 117 years, and I am fortunate to have been granted access to the newspaper’s archives. In 2022, when I was researching the 100th anniversary of the Claremont Chamber of Commerce for this column — […]