David Remnick: This is the New Yorker Radio Hour. I'm David Remnick. Staff writer Dana Goodyear has reported on California, the entertainment industry, a deadly crime spree in Malibu, Kamala Harris's rise in politics, and the ever more fragile environment in the state. Dana has lived for a long time in Los Angeles in the neighborhood of the Pacific Palisades. Recently, she and her family found their lives very much at the center of the story.

Dana Goodyear: About a week after the house burned down, I drove up Pacific coast highway and I stopped at a command post. Basically right underneath my neighborhood at the beach, if you drive up about 1200ft, you're in the Palisade. I knew that I wanted to go back up there. They weren't letting residents in. They had no problem with me going in as a journalist.

Speaker 3: You have a press pass and you're trying to get up there.

Dana Goodyear: Yes.

Speaker 3: My question to you is, what's your ultimate goal today?

Dana Goodyear: I have combined goals. I write for the New Yorker magazine. It's long-form nonfiction journalism.

Speaker 3: No, that's fine.

Dana Goodyear: I need to be seeing things that all the heroic emergency operations people are doing. I also need to figure out what in the hell is going on at my house because we haven't been able to see it. I know it's gone, but more than that--

Speaker 3: I'm sorry for that.

Dana Goodyear: The thing that's so weird for me is that I've reported on so many fires, and I just can't believe that--

Speaker 3: It happened to you.

Dana Goodyear: I can't believe it. The beautiful Palisade. It's just unreal. I'm driving up Chautauqua and I have an absolute pit in my stomach. I know I am about to see the neighborhood, but this is the road that I drove up every day. I'm glad a lot of these houses are standing on Chautauqua. The fire didn't rip down through this little street so much, but I'm just so scared because I'm about to actually finally see it. We've been imagining it for a week.

When I was here with Brad, it was fire everywhere, smoke in the air, emergency vehicles. Just now, it's pretty much dead calm. No cars, no fire trucks. Just a lot of broken lives. Here we go. Here we go. There is literally no one anywhere in this neighborhood. It's so strange. It's so quiet. The wind is blowing lightly. The doves are back on the wires behind the house. I'm looking into this pit of plaster and rebar and understanding how my house was made.

There's the fireplace that I really loved in our family room with the-- I forgot the name of that shape, but I think it's maybe a kiva shape, the half an almond shape opening in the fireplace. The tiles on one side are still there. Then there's a tangled mass, and there are all of our roof tiles scattered everywhere. Pizza oven. There's shampoo bottles that are completely intact that were by the outdoor shower. The garage. It looks like Monday afternoon in my garage. The pillows are on the couch.

My daughter's jar of homemade slime is sitting there intact on the counter. All my books are in the shelves. Everything looks completely fine. Then the house just is an idea of a house or the aftermath of the house, I guess. You can walk through the arched door at the front and the back, but there's just pretty much nothing in between. I wish I knew how it caught and why, and if there's anything we could have done to change this outcome. Why is our garage still standing?

I wish I knew how to know what its narrative was at this particular house. Where the ember went in? What caught? What's that splatter all over the back wall of the house? The part that's still standing looks like someone took a paintbrush with black paint and flung it all over the house. Did something explode there? What's so weird is just we had so much stuff. We had so many possessions. So many stupid possessions and so many really special possessions, and you can't see any of that here.

It's almost like what it all comes down to is plaster and nails. Our world was really little tiny pieces of metal holding it together.

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David Remnick: Dana Goodyear in Pacific Palisades in Los Angeles. Dana, you've been documenting the loss of your home while you're reporting on the effects of this immense catastrophe in Los Angeles. That's got to be beyond difficult. You told me you went back to the house again a few days later. What did you find there?

Dana Goodyear: Yes. I went back, and I was just wandering around when some law enforcement emergency personnel saw me. Everyone was really super friendly. "Do you need water? Do you need a snack? Are you okay?" I said, "Yes, I'm just--" They said, "We'll come walk to your house with you." I finished the walk, got to my house, and I said, "The thing that I've been really wondering about is this fireproof safe."

It was a 400 pound safe that I had just installed in October, and feeling very pleased with myself, I got all of my important documents out of storage in downtown LA and put them in the fireproof safe, along with a small box of jewelry. When I went back, I've had-- I think my eyes had adjusted to the new layout of my home, you might say, and I had figured out where my office was because it was in a closet in my office. I saw this listing, four-file high, totally black, it used to be beige, piece of metal.

I was like, "That's got to be it." This incredibly helpful person with steel-toed boots said, "You know what? I'm going to go in there and see if I can get it for you." I was like, "Are you serious?" because I thought I was going to have to wait until FEMA cleared the site.

Speaker 4: Was it in the top drawer, you think?

Dana Goodyear: I don't think so. I think it was in the second, third or fourth. Then he goes, "Wait a minute, here's a little metal box."

Speaker 4: Little box.

Dana Goodyear: Okay. Oh, that might have a gold ring in it. I was thinking, "Oh my God, my mom had given my daughter her school ring."

Speaker 4: Yes.

Dana Goodyear: Oh, my God, it's my mom's school ring. We started sifting through the dust using the piece of metal that had held the top of one of the files, those little hanging files thing, using that, and found the stone from my engagement ring.

Dana Goodyear: Oh, that's my ring. That's my wedding ring.

Speaker 4: Yes. Something there.

Speaker 5: Oh, wow.

Dana Goodyear: It looks like the diamonds melted out or something. Oh, my God. The feeling of being able to have a happy story to tell not just my kids, who are so anxious about what it all means, but also all the people who want our lives to be okay. It weirdly has meant so much to them that I found this thing. It feels like, "Okay, this family's going to be okay." Even though it's just a symbol, but I'm super happy to have this stone. It just feels like crises, they either strengthen you as a family or break you down. I feel like this strengthens us, and the stone is a symbol of that, of unity.

David Remnick: Dana, all I can say is I send my love to you. Love from Esther and to Billy and to the whole family.

Dana Goodyear: Thank you. I appreciate it.

David Remnick: Dana Goodyear is covering this year's wildfires in Los Angeles for the New Yorker. I'm David Remnick. That's the New Yorker Radio Hour for this week, and thanks for listening. See you next time.

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