Latest news with #Woolsey
New York Times
05-05-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Times
‘The United States vs Ulysses' Review: The Case That Won't Go Away
Though it was a civil case, the defendant faced capital punishment. Or so the defendant's attorney, Morris Ernst, argued, because his client was a book. And not just any book, but a particular copy of James Joyce's 'Ulysses' that had been impounded at U.S. Customs and charged with obscenity. 'If the book loses,' Ernst proclaimed, 'it will be destroyed — burned — hanged by the neck until it is dead.' Ernst's florid oratory in United States v. One Book Called Ulysses was successful. On Dec. 6, 1933, as soon as the judge, John Munro Woolsey, delivered his decision finding 'Ulysses' not obscene — thus permitting a hardback of the French edition to pass through customs — Random House began typesetting an American version, the first to be published in an English-speaking country. Woolsey's landmark order, along with a foreword by Ernst calling it a 'body-blow for the censors,' is included in most copies of 'Ulysses' to this day. Lawyers and judges are not typically heroes in literature, and of late almost never in plays. They are mostly depicted as preening and eely. Yet in 'The United States vs Ulysses,' a play by Colin Murphy now at the Irish Arts Center in Manhattan, Ernst and Woolsey (if not Samuel Coleman, who represented the government) are offered as paragons of progressivism in action. Indeed, the playwright has elevated them almost to the level of Joyce himself. And yet for all its worthiness, liberal uplift and pressing topicality, the play, directed by Conall Morrison, proves just how unmatchable Joyce remains. Murphy's complicated schema, though less complicated than that of 'Ulysses,' is ultimately less expressive, as nearly anything would be. Its account of the trial, drawn from transcripts and other historical sources, is but the middle of three shells. The innermost shell is 'Ulysses' itself, represented by passages either specifically mentioned in court (like the scandalous 'Nausicaa' episode) or thematically relevant to the proceedings (like the fantastical trial of Leopold Bloom, the novel's main character, in 'Circe.') The outermost shell introduces another unlikely hero these days: the media. The play is set two days after Woolsey's verdict, as the five-person cast of the CBS radio program 'The March of Time' awaits the scripts for that evening's live episode. With the help of sound effects from the foley table — gavel bangs, telegraph taps — the voice actors will play all the roles, both in the courtroom and in the dramatized 'Ulysses' segments. Even their director will chip in, playing Bloom. That outer shell is true enough: 'The March of Time' was a real program, an odd blend of documentary and dramatization. On Dec. 8, 1933, it did broadcast a segment about the 'Ulysses' trial, even if the archival recording, as Murphy writes in a note to the script, has 'helpfully' been lost. The loss allowed him to fictionalize the studio scenes and imagine how the show might have presented the material. Despite the trial's oratorical high points, the scope of Murphy's imagination is hampered by the realities of jurisprudence. As you would expect from a case featuring an inanimate defendant, the dramatization is pocked with longueurs, as Ernst (Mark Lambert) and Coleman (Ross Gaynor) recirculate the same arguments while Woolsey (Morgan C. Jones) tries to keep them on track. When it's not thrilling, it's wearisome. Still, the trial scenes are more compelling than the broadcast ones, which include generic theatrical chatter and forced actorly silliness. The cast fights over the microphone and makes jokes about subtext. As independent characters, they barely exist; despite their being devices, our grasp of them is weak. But the inner shell, the material from 'Ulysses' — following Bloom and a host of other Dubliners over the course of one day in 1904 — is wonderful, and radiates that wonderfulness out to the others. Jonathan White makes the lovelorn cuckold Bloom a delicately tragic figure. Clare Barrett, who has nothing to do during the trial but occasionally shout 'Yes!' from the sidelines, imbues the appetitive Molly, Bloom's wife, with a sense of exaltation and sadness that makes what some have found obscene in the book feel utterly natural onstage. Ali White, similarly sidelined in the trial scenes, now gets to shine as the voice of the novel itself, narrating its most erotic passages with mounting excitement. And it is perhaps a wicked comment on the government's case that Gaynor, the government's attorney in the courtroom, plays Blazes Boylan, Molly's preening, eely lover. Morrison's staging is also at its most inventive in those moments, as the Dublin debauchees of 1904 invade the Manhattan trial of 1933 like ghosts far livelier than the haunted. The actors — four of whom performed in the play's 2023 Irish premiere — are excellent transformers, if clearly most at home in the 'Ulysses' episodes. (Their American accents are intermittently accurate.) One could wish that the studio set (by Liam Doona) would transform as completely, but the lighting (by John Comiskey), sound (by Simon Kenny) and costumes (by Catherine Fay) all compensate. Still, for all its Joycean ribaldry and procedural interest, much of it played for laughs, 'The United States vs Ulysses' leaves a distinctly (and properly) troubling aftertaste. When asked by Bennett Cerf, the Random House publisher, whether he has read 'Ulysses,' Ernst, a board member of the American Civil Liberties Union, responds that he doesn't have time. 'The country's on fire — and I'm on the front line!' he thunders, using language the playwright has adapted from a contemporary A.C.L.U. report. 'The Klan on the march again … Fascists organizing — in America!' To which Cerf adds, 'And books are being banned.' Your ears may lift off your head at that moment. Not just because of the persistence of white supremacist incidents and the resurgence of fascism in the United States. And not even, despite his status as a secular saint, because Ernst later snitched on his A.C.L.U. colleagues to Herbert Hoover. No, it's those books. More than 10,000 were banned from schools during the 2023-2024 school year. Even more recently, in March, a judge temporarily blocked, for the second time, attempts by Iowa lawmakers to remove from libraries any works that depict sex acts, no matter their 'political, artistic, literary, and/or scientific value.' Among those books, 92 years after the landmark case this play celebrates, was 'Ulysses.' Just because things can get better does not mean they won't get worse.
Yahoo
21-03-2025
- General
- Yahoo
4 Californians lost their homes in a wildfire. 6 years later, the nightmare isn't over.
Rebuilding what's been destroyed by a wildfire is supremely challenging, victims said. Efforts have been hindered by underinsurance, permitting delays, and the rising costs of materials. Fire victims also struggle with the emotional toll of losing their homes and fear of future disasters. When Bill and Leslie Bixley lost their Malibu home of 20 years to a wildfire, they knew they would rebuild. But they didn't know they'd face years of red tape and heartache. "The initial shock of losing material possessions is rough," said Bill, a retired teacher. "But the roughest part was getting the permits and getting through the bureaucracy." BI talked with four homeowners who lost their houses to the 2018 Woolsey fire in LA and Ventura Counties about what it's been like to piece their homes back together — and whether it was worth doing. Two families told BI that if they'd known how challenging the rebuilding process would be, they might have walked away years ago. But two others said they're glad they held onto their properties and rebuilt the lives they had there. They all said that rebuilding was much more challenging than they'd hoped. "I don't know if there's anybody I've talked to who lost their place and went through any of this that it didn't completely change their life and traumatize them in some way," Bill Bixley said. Fortunately, all four families who lost their houses had home insurance. But some of them discovered after the fire that their insurance policies wouldn't cover the full cost of rebuilding — or of the personal belongings they lost. William Buckley, a Malibu native who works in financial services, said he had a good experience with his provider — AAA home insurance — after the fire. It was quick to send him his initial payouts and responsive to his requests. "We were never left in the lurch," Buckley said. "We were never left holding an invoice and waiting for money." But Buckley quickly learned that he was underinsured. While he ultimately received about $1.1 million in insurance payouts, he said, he spent about $1.6 million, he said. He took out a FEMA disaster relief loan and got much-needed cash from Southern California Edison's $2.2 billion legal settlement. But he and his wife still depleted their savings to cover the rest of the costs. They weren't alone. "Every one of my neighbors I knew was underinsured," Buckley said. Richard Gibbs, a film and TV composer and owner of Woodshed Recording studio, had a much less positive experience with his home insurance provider, State Farm. Gibbs struggled to get the company to cover rent on the temporary home he and his family wanted to live in. When Gibbs realized that he'd lost all of his original scores, which an appraiser valued at $2.1 million, State Farm refused to reimburse more than $5,000 for them, Gibbs said. The problem of underinsurance is widespread: A study published last year of wildfire-related insurance claims in Colorado found that nearly three-quarters of those affected by the Marshall Fire of 2021 weren't fully covered by their policies. Rebuilding a home in the future — and replacing everything in it — often costs much more than its current value, as estimated by an insurance company. Policies that cover the cash value of a home rather than the full cost of replacing it often leave homeowners without enough funds to rebuild. Gibbs and his wife ended up suing State Farm for allegedly underpaying and delaying their claims. They settled for an amount Gibbs said he couldn't disclose. When Gibbs talks to other homeowners worried about a potential future wildfire, he tells them all one thing: "Make sure that your insurance policy truly covers your house in case it burns down because most do not," he said. State Farm didn't immediately respond to a request for comment. Some fire victims struggled with city and other government permitting processes to rebuild, despite local authorities' promises to fast-track them. Jon Krawczyk, a metal sculptor who also lost his home in Malibu, said authorities required him to rebuild the same structures he had before, even though he wanted one building instead of three and less square footage. "There was no wisdom," Krawczyk said of the permitting process, adding that local authorities weren't flexible with the rules, even when his plans would've resulted in less construction. Many fire victims said the cost of construction was ultimately much higher than they'd expected. Some homeowners were in the middle of the rebuilding process when COVID-19 hit, and demand for housing, construction materials, and labor soared. The pandemic also snarled building material supply chains, sending prices even higher. Buckley and his family moved into their new home in June 2021, even as they continued construction on it. "It was just a structure in a rubble field, basically," he said. The home and landscaping were completed at the end of 2023, almost exactly five years after the fire. As Gibbs hopes to finally break ground on his new home this year, he's bracing for increased competition for building materials and labor, given that many victims of the Palisades and Eaton fires will likely also want to start rebuilding as quickly as possible. Despite designing their new homes to be far more resistant to future fires, some who've rebuilt live in fear of the next major disaster. Many are also struggling with the lasting emotional toll of losing their homes. The devastating LA wildfires this winter, which also destroyed homes in Malibu, have exacerbated that fear. It's not just neighborhoods nestled into the hills or near the urban-wildland interface that can feel vulnerable these days. "You could be in the middle of LA, and a fire can sweep through the neighborhood with the kind of winds we have," Buckley said. The Bixleys were so traumatized by their experience — and fearful of future fires, that they moved out of Malibu and leased their home to victims of the most recent LA fires. They're living in a rental home in Fresno as they decide what to do next. "This last fire was so horrific, and we've just been so stressed out and traumatized from the experience, even though we've done everything in our power to fireproof our house," Leslie said. "We went through all that heartache, but it still didn't take away the pain and the fear of this happening." Many of the Bixley's neighbors never rebuilt their homes, so their neighborhood still "looks like somebody who's lost half their teeth," Bill said. The couple said they know many others who also fear future fires and want to leave Malibu. Gibbs said he's also considered leaving LA County because of "the insanity of the costs and insurance" made worse by the recent fires. Buckley said that, for a long time, it was hard for him to talk with anyone who hadn't lost their home to a fire about the experience. He felt he'd joined a "club" of fire victims. "At first, you don't even want to communicate with your old club, you're in this different club now," Buckley said. "They don't understand the extent of the trauma. It's hard to communicate that to anybody." Have you been affected by a wildfire or other natural disaster? Contact this reporter at erelman@ Read the original article on Business Insider
Yahoo
19-03-2025
- General
- Yahoo
California puts $25 million toward worker safety outreach amid fire rebuilding efforts
California officials on Tuesday announced $25 million in funding to help community organizations educate workers about their rights and workplace safety. Los Angeles area organizations were prioritized for a chunk of the funds — $6 million — to support workers involved in cleanup and rebuilding efforts after the devastating Palisades and Eaton fires. Read more: Behind the staggering economic toll of the L.A. wildfires California's Department of Industrial Relations will allocate funds to 89 community organizations across the state, with some 21 in Los Angeles. The funding is part of a program called the California Workplace Outreach Project, first launched in 2021 to address COVID-19-related workplace risks. "California is implementing a unique model that leverages trusted local messengers to communicate directly with workers," said California Labor Secretary Steward Knox in a Tuesday statement. Organizations may be able to renew the funding for a second year, with a total of $49 million set aside for a two-year funding cycle, according to the Department of Industrial Relations. Fire-damaged properties can pose dangers to workers, rife with hazardous waste and harmful chemicals. With many immigrant workers having lost jobs as nannies, gardeners, housekeepers, plumbers and pool cleaners as a result of the fires, advocates say some may be forced to undertake dangerous fire cleanup jobs, at times without proper training or equipment. At the same time, these low-wage workers might also grapple with problems of wage theft, discrimination, retaliation, anti-immigrant sentiment or other issues, said Nancy Zuniga, health program manager at a group that supports day laborers called the Instituto de Educación Popular del Sur de California, also known as IDEPSCA. The outreach is a first step to inform workers of their rights, Zuniga said at a Tuesday morning news conference held at IDEPSCA's office in Pico-Union. "These workers are often left out of all safety nets," Zuniga said. "We are happy to be part of this effort, but we know more is needed." In the aftermath of the 2018 Woolsey fire, IDEPSCA studied its effect on domestic workers in Malibu. More than half of the nearly 200 workers surveyed said they permanently lost their jobs. Many reported instances of being expected to clean up ash, soot and debris without proper training and equipment, and dealt with lingering financial and emotional consequences of the fire for at least two years after. Read more: As debris removal continues in Altadena, residents eager to learn next steps to rebuild A report by UC Berkeley researchers examining California's community-based approach to COVID-19 safety efforts surveyed workers and found they were often distrustful of government entities. Partnering with community organizations was "a crucial strategy for addressing high volumes of workplace issues that traditional regulatory approaches cannot fully tackle alone," the report said. California Labor Commissioner Lilia Garcia-Brower said that because many cases of wage theft rely on active witnesses rather than violations documented on paper, community groups are essential in keeping workers engaged in the process, which can take months or years. "If we just waited in our office to process claims, we wouldn't be doing our jobs," Garcia-Brower said. "Outreach is not fluff, it's foundational to enforcement." Sign up for our Wide Shot newsletter to get the latest entertainment business news, analysis and insights. This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.
Yahoo
15-03-2025
- General
- Yahoo
2 California wildfire victims explain why they wouldn't rebuild again
Six years after LA County's Woolsey fire, many destroyed homes haven't been rebuilt. Rebuilding is costly, emotionally taxing, and often delayed by complex red tape. Two families say they might not have rebuilt their homes if they'd understood how hard it would be. Thousands of homeowners in Los Angeles are figuring out a way forward after the Palisades and Eaton fires destroyed 16,000 homes and properties across the county. But some of their neighbors who lost their homes in past fires warn that rebuilding will likely be harder than expected. Two families whose Malibu homes burned down in the 2018 Woolsey fire told BI they might have sold their properties and moved on if they'd known how lengthy, complicated, expensive, and emotionally taxing the rebuilding process would be. That might be why, more than six years after the Woolsey fire destroyed more than 1,600 structures and burned 97,000 acres, only about 40% of the homes that were lost have been replaced. Construction costs will likely be even higher for victims of LA's most recent fires, as the scale of the destruction far outstrips past fires and will squeeze a building industry already facing a labor shortage, elevated building material costs, and overwhelming demand. Jon Krawczyk always knew there was a chance he could lose his Malibu home to a wildfire. But he didn't really believe it until it happened. "They say there's a reason young men go to war because they don't think they're going to die, right?" he told BI. "I left thinking I'll come back tomorrow, and it'll be here." It's been two and half years since Krawczyk, a metal sculptor, and his wife, an art consultant, finally broke ground on rebuilding their home of 18 years. That came after a seemingly endless back-and-forth with government officials over permitting and approvals for their project. Krawczyk said authorities required them to rebuild the same structures they had before, even though they wanted one building instead of three, and less square footage. Krawczyk, who lost his studio and all his equipment on the property, said he initially thought rebuilding would cost about $1.6 million and take about three years, but it's ended up costing north of $2.2 million and taken close to six years. The Krawczyks had paid off the mortgage on their home six months before the fire and were able to evacuate with their two teenage kids to a family home. A few months later, they used their insurance payout to buy a home in nearby Thousand Oaks, where they've lived since 2019. While they received their maximum insurance payout and money from a $2.2 billion settlement with Southern California Edison, they lost their insurance provider and had to resort to California's FAIR Plan, the state's insurer of last resort. The plan has high premiums and caps payouts at $3 million. The couple hopes to get the final occupancy permit and move into their new house this spring in time to host their son's wedding. But if Krawczyk could turn back time, he's not sure he would've gone through with rebuilding. "If I knew then what I know now, I may have just walked away," he said, "because it is not fun." Bill and Leslie Bixley had lived in their home in the Malibu hills for about 20 years when the Woolsey fire reduced it to ash. It didn't take long for the couple to get their first payout from their insurance company, but it took about two years to get the permits and other approvals they needed to begin construction on the new, more fire-resistant home. "The initial shock of losing material possessions is rough," Bill said. "But the roughest part, actually, for me anyway, was getting the permits and getting through the bureaucracy." But the couple was determined to rebuild, so they pushed ahead and completed the home about four years after the fire. While the rebuild made sense financially, the Bixleys said that with the benefit of hindsight, they might not have done it. "It wasn't worth the pain," Leslie said. "Looking back on it, I wouldn't do it again, I don't think." But years later, the new house still doesn't feel like home. They miss Bill's 70-year-old teddy bear and Leslie's mother's Steinway grand piano, which they lost in the fire. Without many of its old trees, the property has lost some of its spirit. "We had to put so much concrete in to make it fire-safe that we feel like we're in a Lexus commercial," Leslie said. "It's just not the folksy place it was." The Bixleys are also traumatized by their experience — and fearful of future fires, so they moved out of Malibu for the time being and leased their home to victims of the most recent LA fires. They're living in a rental home in Fresno as they decide what to do next. "This last fire was so horrific, and we've just been so stressed out and traumatized from the experience, even though we've done everything in our power to fireproof our house," Leslie said. "We went through all that heartache, but it still didn't take away the pain and the fear of this happening." Many of the Bixley's neighbors never rebuilt their homes, so their neighborhood still "looks like somebody who's lost half their teeth," Bill said. The couple said they know many others who also fear future fires and want to leave Malibu. But if you're determined to rebuild, you can, Bill said. "You can't get beaten down," he said. "You can always do it, just when you think it's over, it's not." Has your home been impacted by a wildfire or other natural disaster? Contact this reporter at erelman@ Read the original article on Business Insider
Los Angeles Times
13-03-2025
- Science
- Los Angeles Times
What will it take for Palisades trails to recover? Here's a place to find answers — and hope
Reporting on the 2018 Woolsey fire remains vivid in my mind. I remember observing its bright orange glow from outside the gates of the shuttered Santa Susana Field Laboratory, its starting point. From there I drove to the impromptu command post, a mostly empty fire station where no one could give me clear information about the plan to fight the blaze. I spent the following days reporting from the blackened landscape in Bell Canyon, Malibu and Calabasas. It's been just over six years since I'd covered what was, until January, the largest and most destructive wildfire in L.A. County modern history. But in recent months the Woolsey fire has been back on my mind — this time as a test case for ecological recovery. Both the Woolsey and recent Palisades fires burned through the Santa Monica Mountains in ecologically similar areas. I hoped by visiting an area burned in the Woolsey fire, I could glean perspective for what we can expect over the next few years within the Palisades fire burn scar. (Loyal Wilders might remember that in January I investigated the ecological rehabilitation ahead for the area affected by the Eaton fire, which you can read here.) To get answers, I met up with Matthew Wells, a straight-shooting restoration biologist who has worked in the Santa Monica Mountains for the past six years. He gave me hope about how land can recover if we are willing to put in the work. This past week, Wells and I hiked through Cheeseboro Canyon, an area just east of Agoura Hills that burned in the Woolsey fire in 2018 (and the Topanga fire in 2005). I asked him to show me how the land has and hasn't recovered since the blaze. Wells knows this land well. He first worked in the area shortly after the Woolsey fire when he was hired to help study the fire's damage to the region. Wells now works for the Santa Monica Mountains Fund, a nonprofit founded in 1988 whose efforts are focused on protecting the Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area. At the fund, Wells oversees planting native trees, shrubs and other plants, and how to best rid the mountains of invasive plants, including quick-burning invasives like dried-out black mustard. Wells and I started our hike walking past rolling green hills. He immediately explained that, come summer, this bucolic landscape will resemble massive heaps of oversized russet potatoes. Much of the green is from invasive weeds, including wild oats, thistle and mustard planted by ranchers who worked this land for more than 150 years. But cattle overgrazed the area, killing out native plants and trees. Today these fast-growing non-native plants suck up all the nutrients and block the sun from reaching native plants. And when they dry out, they burn quickly. Wells and other workers mow the area several times a year to kill these intruders. Ideally, they will use the Santa Monica Mountains Fund's seed farm and other resources to replace the undesired plants with lupines, poppies and other local perennials. Wouldn't that be gorgeous? As we continued walking, Wells pointed to small stands of large old oak trees. Before European colonizers arrived, the area would have been covered in valley oaks and coast live oaks. Ranchers left these small groups of trees to give their cattle shady spots to rest but cleared out much of the land to create pastures. Plus, the cattle would have eaten small saplings. 'One could use their imagination,' Wells said. 'If you were in this canyon prior to ranching and all these devastating fires, there should be more oaks here, and it should be a more densely oak woodland.' The Santa Monica Mountains Fund and other organizations have spent years planting thousands of native trees in this region. As we were walking, Wells showed me dozens of baby trees individually planted in milk and juice cartons to easily mark their location. (And yes, 'baby trees' is definitely the scientific term.) It was thrilling to peek inside a carton and see a tiny oak. Someday, I will return and say in my most grandfatherly tone, 'I remember when you were only yay high!' Not all trees are thriving, though. The valley oaks, Wells said, do not tolerate drought as well as the coast live oaks. As we walked, I repeatedly pointed and asked, 'Is that tree dead?' It was often not a straightforward answer. A fire had burned inside the trunk of one large oak I asked about. 'It's hard to say how long it's got,' Wells said. 'It could last another 100 years. It could last two years. It could last two months. It could fall while we're standing here.' (Thankfully reader, it did not.) After a wildfire, self-appointed experts often post on social media about how fire benefits our landscape. I wanted to hear Wells' take on that, given that several of the oaks we looked at survived two major fires in the past 20 years. Wells said there's a significant difference between the impact of the Topanga, Woolsey and Palisades fires — wind-driven fires fed by 100-mph gusts in bone-dry humidity — and a prescribed burn that officials carry out under specific conditions to reduce an area's fuel load. 'Fire is not inherently bad if it's the right setting,' Wells said. 'But we're not in the Sierra Nevada and in mixed conifer. We're in Southern California, and we're lighting things on fire ... in this case in January, and the plants are drought stressed after a long summer, and it's hot.' Deeper in the canyon, Wells got a bit more animated. Here, the organization has planted purple needle grass, wild rose, sage, giant wild rye and creeping rye. Around the creek beds, they planted willows. He pointed to 2 acres where workers and volunteers planted golden currant, which was already blooming. It will feed native bees, which need a more consistent food source than invasives provide. 'It's small, but that's how you do it. You piece it together. You do a little bit at a time,' he said. We walked deeper into the canyon, and Wells showed me how stark the differences were from the beginning of our trek. On one hillside, green soon-dead non-native grasses. But on the other side, lush purple sage rolling up the hillside. If volunteers and organizations put in similar work for oak woodlands burned in the Palisades, 'then you could expect similar results,' he said. I asked Wells how soon we need to start that work. Shortly after the Eaton and Palisades fires were contained, volunteer efforts blossomed to clean up the burn areas. Then, debate broke out over the right approach. And I'm sorry to say, Wells agreed there is no one right approach. 'People want a sound bite, like 'Two weeks after is the best time to do X,' but in reality, nature is complicated,' Wells said. 'People are like 'Rocket science is really hard.' Well, this is harder. The variables are so inconsistent.' But one thing that Wells' group and others can do right now is yank up weeds. Arundo donax, or giant reed, is a 'really terrible, terrible weed' choking out native plants in creek and river beds in the Santa Monica Mountains, he said. 'Right now is a good time to go in and start removing the Arundo because a lot of the vegetation is cleared out,' he said, adding it'd be beneficial to remove other weeds like tree tobacco and castor bean too, especially as the area gets more rain and more weeds crop up. Wells' dream and plan is to recover these hills and canyon by returning them to coastal sage scrub and oak woodlands. His optimism for this land is the opposite of blind faith. His hope is rooted in action. Like anyone who loves our local public lands, Wells can spiral like the rest of us about climate change and how it's worsening heat in Southern California. But he focuses on what he can control, on the problems he can fix. 'It's easy to get lost in those big-picture things, but I like to think at some point, we'll solve those issues as a species,' Wells said. 'You know what I can do? I can plant trees right now so that if we do solve that problem, then this area is looking better. You can't give up hope just for the sake of giving up hope. That apathy is not going to get you anywhere in life. This is just an area that needs to get fixed.' Want to be a part of that fixing? You can volunteer to plant trees and restore land with the Santa Monica Mountains Fund and volunteer to help replant in a burned area of the Eaton fire in April. 1. Restore wildland to its glory in GlendaleThe Arroyos & Foothills Conservancy will host a volunteer workday from 9 to 11 a.m. Saturday at its Sunshine Preserve in Glendale. This 3.5-acre hilly landscape was donated to the conservancy in 2020 and serves as an important passageway for wildlife, including mountain lions P-41 and Nikita. Volunteers will remove invasive weeds to help foster growth of native plants. Participants are encouraged to bring shovels, hand pruners and trowels if they have them. Volunteers should bring work gloves and water, and wear sturdy shoes. Sign up at 2. Get lost in learning in Fountain ValleyWant to feel more confident about using a compass and topography map? Want to know what a topography map is? Sports Basement Orange County will host a free class from 6 to 7:30 p.m. Wednesday at its Fountain Valley location (10800 Kalama River Ave.). Participants will learn how to read topo maps and how to effectively use a compass. The course will also include how to take bearings and practice triangulation. Participants will receive a gear discount. Register at 3. Bike along new green space in El MonteActiveSGV will host a free tour and 15.8-mile bike ride from 9 a.m. to noon Saturday in El Monte to educate riders about the Merced Avenue Greenway project. The project aims to remove asphalt, build green spaces and capture more stormwater, all while reducing urban heat and creating safer paths for pedestrians and cyclists. Saturday's ride will start at the Jeff Seymour Family Center (10900 Mulhall St. in El Monte) and follow the lush San Gabriel River Bike Path to the Whittier Narrows Recreational Area. Register at Just under a two-hour drive northwest from L.A., the Ojai Valley offers outdoors lovers an opportunity to unwind and reconnect with the world around them. Want to know where to go specifically for a soul reset? Times staff writer Deborah Netburn outlines six spiritual spots in Ojai, including Meditation Mount, where you take the nature trail and appreciate 'awe-inspiring views and one of the largest wind chimes I've ever seen,' she writes. Or, for a more rugged experience, visit Meher Mount, a 173-acre expanse where the property's caretaker Ray Johnston told Netburn that people come to 'feel the spiritual energy and hike.' Personally, I need more of that as every day of 2025 passes. Happy adventuring, Seeing a California condor in the wild is definitely on my hiking bingo card. But I hadn't realized how ill-prepared I was to identify one until I saw the Ventura Land Trust's recent post about how to differentiate a California condor from a turkey vulture. Turns out, if the large bird above you has a white triangle across its upper body resembling Texas longhorn antlers, that's a condor. If its underside wings are grayish across its lower body, that's probably a turkey vulture. Fun fact: When turkey vultures are hot, they'll poop on their feet to cool off. They'll also vomit on anything (or anyone) that threatens them. That's some great boundary setting! For more insider tips on Southern California's beaches, trails and parks, check out past editions of The Wild. And to view this newsletter in your browser, click here.
