
Living In The Aftermath of The L.A. Fires

Written by Katie Hintz-Zambrano
Photography by Linda Hsiao
Mother and artist Linda Hsiao recounts her story of fleeing the L.A. fires and trying to help others who have lost everything.
Starting on the evening of Tuesday, January 7th, the stories started to trickle in. Numerous folks within and connected to the MOTHER community in Los Angeles had lost their homes or were displaced by the horrific fires.
Some were from the Pacific Palisides and many more resided in Altadena—a diverse, idllyic neighborhood with deep roots for generations of Black and Brown families. (You can read more about the history of Altadena here).
One story that caught our eye was that of Linda Hsiao, a talented ceramicist we profiled on MOTHER in 2021. Back then, she was raising a toddler son and heavily pregnant with a daughter. (Her kids, Saben and Wawona, are now 5 and 3, respectively).
In the weeks leading up to the fires, Linda’s life seemed to be going swimmingly. Her art was celebrated in a full-page spread in the Los Angeles Times and she was happily living with her family of four and collaborating on creative community projects with other Altadena moms. Then, of course, everything changed.
Below, Linda shares her story that is both uniquely her own and also echos the experience of many of the tens of thousands of folks who’ve been displaced.
While many questions of the future still remain, Linda is currently spending her days giving back to the neighborhood she loves, with Altadena Kindred, a project that aims to support the Altadena community—especially the children—who are hurting the most.
“We parents know an Altadena childhood is magical. Here on the threshold of the mountains, our children are at once safe and free. That magic has rooted Altadenans here over generations, drawn some of us here from afar, and called many back—years after their own Altadena childhoods. The Eaton Fire is out, but the magic is still threatened,” says Linda.
“Our dream is to restore the accessible wild spaces our families once gathered in, celebrated among, and retreated to. We are committed to rebuilding our community and to recasting the spell, so that the children of Altadena continue to know its magic.“
Read her powerful story—alongside photos from before, during, and after the Eaton Fire—below.
Be sure to follow Linda at @lindahsiao and @altadenakindred for more.

What were the advisories like before January 7th?
"I was already aware of the red flag warnings and the potential high winds coming though Altadena on January 7th. I pay $4 a month for Edgar McGregor’s custom Altadena weather forecast on Patreon. He has been a local hero, helping us understand some things that affect our microclimate that is unlike the rest of L.A."
"In his post on January 6th, he warned that this windstorm was going to be like nothing we’d ever seen since November 30, 2011. He went from predicting a class 5 with potential 65-84 mph winds with gusts that reach 115 on the local mountains. And the past two years of extremely wet weather following a very, very long dry spell meant the lush vegetation on our local mountains could cause extreme fire danger."
"He mentioned, 'Tonight (the 6th) to collect all your personal documents,' which made me nervous. So I just checked and made a mental note of where they could be and forwarded his extreme weather report to other friends that might not be subscribed to his alerts."
Can you walk us through how January 7th started out for you?
"That morning was so windy that the mostly outdoor preschool of my youngest, Wawona, closed down for safety. And I had already arranged to watch Saben’s (my eldest) new kindergarten friend so her mom could work."
"Windy all day, the kids would occasionally try to play outside but then felt swept away by the wind and would quickly return and play in our indoor play pit (a sunken living room with all the kids' toys). When the friend picked her daughter up, we made plans for hot pot at her home on Friday."
"My kids were both getting stir crazy from not playing outside, so I invited two of my son’s best friends over to our house. They laughed, they played, they ran around. His friend's dad mentioned he already saw a live wire down (from the wind) near his daughter’s preschool, which was only 4 blocks south of my home. The other kids left at 5 p.m. to go home for dinner and I prepared dinner for my kids."
"By 5:20 p.m. I lost power. No biggie, I think. I’ll just bring out the camp lights for dinner. My husband Kagan came home from work 10 minutes later and, since we felt like we were camping, we decided to make hot cocoa. With the power out and an electric water heater, we decided no bath for the kids, let's get you cozy in jammies."
“We sat on the daybed and watched the fire, thinking: ‘There’s no way it will get all the way over here right?'”


When did you receive your first warning?
"At 6:30 p.m. I get an alert on my phone from Edgar Mc Gregor: EATON CANYON BRUSH FIRE ACTIVE. THIS IS NOT A DRILL."
"I look towards Eaton Canyon and see the glow of the fire and some flames. From that perspective, I live on the complete other side of Altadena, a good 10-15 minutes away from Eaton Canyon, I was shocked to see the glow. I immediately texted some friends that live much closer to Eaton, 'Look east, We can see the Eaton fire,' and sent them a photo from my dining room window. Friends sent me photos of the fire looking even closer from their homes."
"The wind was still raging and a Christmas tree flew past my dining room window down the street. One-by-one my friends start evacuating that evening. I packed as quickly as I could and was also trying not to forget anything. I know how to pack for a 1-week camping trip, but evacuation felt a little bit different. I got the documents, some valuables, some kids things, and planned on actually ‘camping’ at our woodshop in Highland Park if we needed to evacuate Altadena. Our friends with a daughter in my son’s kinder class who live two blocks over reached out and asked us where we planned to go if we had to evacuate. We told them to camp at the woodshop and that we had plenty of space for them, too."
When did you actually evacuate?
"By 10 p.m. I get really nervous. The fire was definitely coming closer and our friends further east had already evacuated. We looked at the Watch Duty evacuation map and our street had not even turned orange to be ‘set’ to go. My husband was confident that they would pre-alert us before evacuation."
"I was exhausted with the extra 3 kids in my home all day, in addition to my 2. I try to snuggle with the kids as my husband keeps watch on the fire to make sure we got out before it was too close. I kept bouncing out of bed with one eye open to find things to add to my go bags. Finally I just told my husband, 'Pack the cars, I would feel so much better if they were all packed.' The wind was crazy and he felt it would be more dangerous to drive in the wind; as trash cans were flying by and branches were falling. We had already lost a good number of shingles from our home by then."
"We pack the cars. We sat on the daybed and watched the fire, thinking: 'There’s no way it will get all the way over here right? It’s headed east not west, but it keeps looking closer and closer.'"
"At midnight, my husband gets tired too and suggests that we all rest. I immediately say 'NO—it’s now time for our family to evacuate before we are both too exhausted.'"
"At 12:30 a.m. we pack the kids up along with our last valuables and drive to the woodshop. As we drive down, we see the mountain on fire. The kids saw it burning and watched the angry glow of the fire along the mountain. In that moment, we realized the fire wasn’t heading east...the fire was growing to the west. We drive right though the thick brown smoke and start wondering if we made the wrong decision heading to the woodshop in Highland Park. The air seemed ok at our home and with two young kids, driving into the smoke also seemed like a bad choice. The fire was blowing smoke directly south of Eaton Canyon, thick and brown."
"We reached the woodshop, set up the tent, smoky but not too bad. We crash and fall asleep as soon as we have the camp pads and tents set up. Our neighbors Dida, Milan, and Maxie had not evacuated Altadena yet, so I put my phone near my head to listen for their call, like a newborn baby, in case they needed to come to us."
"At 3:30 a.m. we get a text from Dida that they just got the 'go' order for evacuation. They now need to evacuate. We set up some additional camp mattresses for them to sleep and ½ of our kids' Nugget (the other ½ flew out of the car from the winds). Later we learned that all the homes west of Lake only received the 'go' order at 3:30 a.m. and many houses within the next hour."
"I got an evacuation warning at 7 a.m. on Wednesday, January 8th, unsure if it was for Altadena or my current location in Highland Park."
"Smoke was so bad in the woodshop and the sky had an orange hazy glow, so we decided to take the kids down to Orange County to get out of the smoke. Memories of the Bobcat fire made me know the first thing I needed to do was get my family away from the path of the smoke and fires. We start repacking the car. I took the kids and Kagan stayed back to check on our house."

How did you find out the fate of your neighborhood—and your own home?
"At 6:30 a.m. on January 8th, my friend Kari sent me a fire map that someone had started on Google Maps tracking the burning houses, one-by-one. It was not accurate by any means, but I zoomed in and see Saben’s old preschool, Children’s Country House, marked with fire. I cry, because this is where I met all these amazing moms. Our kids have known each other since they were 2. I start sobbing.”
“We all became so sad, but then, one-by-one, every few hours, every 30 minutes, the texts began appearing. 'We just learned our house is gone' 'Our house is gone' 'Our house was burning on the news, we saw it.' 'Our house is gone.’”
“In every local group chat, the news kept coming. I started checking in on friends, one-by-one, all day. I would ask: 'Are you guys ok? Everyone safe? Is your house ok?' Replies: 'No, it’s gone.'"
"By 9:30 a.m. I start heading down to Orange County. I don’t really remember much from that Wednesday other than every time someone else let us know they lost their home, I choked down tears and felt my body shake with sadness. One-by-one, each family we love informed us their home was gone."
"Our friends who had evacuated with us rented a luxury trailer from Airbnb close to my mom’s home in OC so we could keep the kids together. We knew we needed to stick together. We decided to take the kids to the beach, let them run around and breathe fresh air. Our cars were full of our belongings.”
“Not exactly sure what to do, Kagan called and told me, 'It’s bad up there. Fires everywhere.' He tried to water our lawn and roof but the water pressure was gone. There was no water. I told him to come join us in OC, that we needed to be together as a family. 'I don’t care about the house,' I say, 'I need you safe.'"
"I found out later he had parked at La Canada High School and hiked a mile across the Hahamonga Watershed in order to get to our house that day."
"For many of our friends, the homes they lost were the first they purchased. They were the homes their babies took their first steps in, the first and only homes their children had known. We used to all go to the Wednesday Farmers Market and let the kids roll down the hills, we would have Farnsworth Friday Potlucks while the kids played in the playground.”
“Some of our neighbors had been there for generations, with three generations living under one roof. Or, like our other neighbors, all their parents and grandparents, sisters, aunts, and uncles all lived in Altadena."
"Receiving all of this tragic news while sheltering in such a beautiful place, we began to mourn for our community. We thought, if we could double up each house on the west side of Altadena using the structures still standing, that we could keep some of our nearest and dearest friends in Altadena while they rebuilt.”
“The sigh of relief after realizing our home hadn't burned down made us feel like we could act. If we got rid of many of our possessions, we could make space for another family in our home. 90% of our friends were left with a pile of ashes…and a chimney."
When did the idea for Altadena Kindred come to you?
"With our houses still standing, my friend Dida Markovic and I felt the pull to fight. Fight for our friends who lost everything to stay, comfort them, and take care of them the best we can. We quickly came up with the idea for Altadena Kindred: An effort to support the children affected by the 2025 Eaton Fire with clothes, comfort, and care organized by the Altadena Community."
"By January 10th we passed the text and info to my friend Mackenzie Schneider (a fellow Altadena mom) and she swooped in to create all of our graphics, an email, and Instagram account.”
“By the end of the day, we had it up and people were seeing it and wanted to donate. The response was so huge, that donations began coming in on January 12th, before we were even back in town to receive them."
What's your goal or mission for Altadena Kindred?
"What began as an effort to support the children affected by the 2025 Eaton Fire, now seeks a greater, longer term mission to help our friends and the entire community rebuild. So, we hope people will keep eyes on this space as we try to find the right avenue to fundraise and work to create a safe space for our children and families."
“We parents know an Altadena childhood is magical. Here on the threshold of the mountains our children are at once safe and free. That magic has rooted Altadenans here over generations, drawn some of us here from afar, and called many back—years after their own Altadena childhoods. The Eaton Fire is out, but the magic is still threatened."
"As the days passed, it became clear that the longterm mission for Altadena Kindred must evolve. Our dream is to restore the accessible wild spaces our families once gathered in, celebrated among, and retreated to. We are committed to rebuilding our community and to recasting the spell, so that the children of Altadena continue to know its magic.“


What does life currently look like for you and your family?
"Honestly, this has been the hardest four weeks and probably will continue to be a very difficult year for all of us. Many neighbors still have not found places to live or only know in the short term where they will live, and continue to move from one place to another. Some are too fearful to return. I have a stable home for my family for the next 3 months and although that might not sound like much, we are the lucky ones and are so grateful to our friend for letting us stay at her home while she is away."
"Day to day, I wake up in the quiet hours of 4-6 a.m. while everyone is still asleep to give myself time to feel my own emotions and catch up on messages or emails. During the week, we’ve managed to secure childcare for both kids and my husband and I split up for drop-offs since they are in opposite directions, then head to Knowhow Shop (the home base for Altadena Kindred) to start getting things ready before volunteers start trickling in around 9:20 a.m."
"Altadena Kindred has been a huge operation of sorting, organizing, and opening to the public. Initially, we promoted ourselves privately, to all the children of Altadena, through community chats, Facebook groups, and school Slack channels, to ensure that our efforts would go directly to the families in need. Some families sent over friends to help them gather things they needed, but we quickly realized that many families were still far away and couldn’t come in person. We responded by having Dida create a Google Form for us to gather information on each child in need so we could bundle clothing, shoes, toys, art supplies, and other offerings that can be picked up or delivered locally."
"The rest of the day I’m on my feet so much I haven’t had much time to stop. But then someone comes in and it’s someone I know that has lost their home and I cry and give them the biggest hug I can. A lot of times when I double check a packed order, I’ll recognize the child's name and find items that I know will make that family happy…and my heart breaks a little more.”
“We pick up the kids and try our best to restore stability these days; we allow a little bit more TV than we used to allow, but that’s ok."
“Every few hours, every 30 minutes, the texts began appearing. ‘We just learned our house is gone’ ‘Our house is gone’ ‘Our house was burning on the news, we saw it.'”
How can readers assist you and your family during this time?
"We are close but haven’t quite reached our personal GoFundMe goal. It is so hard to know what we will need in the coming months and years to aid my family. I have been offering gift cards on my website, which is great because it is giving me hope and making me excited to get back into the studio when I feel the support from my customers."
"I’ve been getting pictures from friends who have started sifting through the remains of their homes and have found my ceramic Christmas ornaments that were hanging on their tree or the Tiki cup I made for them. I would love to rebuild my handmade ceramics for those who lost their homes once I am back in my studio and they are settled again. These were friends, neighbors, and customers from the local craft/makers market we (myself and two other Altadena mothers, Heather Praun and Bianca D’Amico) would throw at Plant Material twice a year. They’d come to my studio, we’d see each other at birthdays, on the trails or the farmers market. This was our community."
To contribute to Linda's fund directly, head over here.
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