By Emma Fox, Contributing Writer
Amanda Williams grew up surrounded by family in the home of her grandmother, Catalina (Nana) Luna. Back in the 70s, Nana Luna moved from Douglas, Arizona to an apartment in Altadena with her husband at the time and her two kids, Williams’ uncle Al Luna and her mother, Nancy Luna. “There was just an opportunity for families who didn’t come from money to move into this area that was beautiful,” says Williams.
Soon after, the family moved into their own home, putting down roots in beautiful Altadena. Nana Luna was the youngest daughter of her 14 siblings. Many followed her to California and her home became a central meeting point for them and their descendants. “My Nana had a room, then there was my mom and my stepdad, and then us six siblings in the house. And then my uncle, at the time, lived in the garage. So, we all were just crammed in there together,” says Williams.
Williams describes memories of her childhood home. Piles of comfy blankets and pillows strewn about, waiting to warm up any family member who needed a place to stay. “People sleeping everywhere, nobody cared. There weren’t beds. They just wanted to be at Nana’s house because it was warm,” she says.
Sharing beds was commonplace in the Luna household. “My Nana had a big California King sized bed and my younger siblings all slept in that bed. We used to fight over who got to sleep with Nana,” according to Williams. Though the family was packed together like sardines, they wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Williams described the backyard as a place of respite from her, sometimes chaotic, household.
“It was just lush and beautiful and it just had this old walkway, the tile wasn’t anything fancy, but I can almost remember how my bare feet felt on the tile and how the crisp air felt with all of the greenery around it. There was something that I’ve never experienced anywhere else. It was just like this little tiny oasis and the whole neighborhood was like that,” says Williams, as the small details of her childhood come rushing into clarity.
Across the street, lived a woman named Edita. “She would teach me how to sew… she used to have me come across the street and we’d spend the afternoon sewing different items.” Next door, there was the Warlicks who had a pool and an only child who was drawn to the kid-friendly, compassionate environment the Lunas created.
Do not be mistaken. This was no cookie-cutter suburb. Williams remembers how many of the people she knew from Altadena had homes that were direct reflections of their values and interests; completely unique. For example, her neighbor Edita had a Koi pond in her backyard. Altadenans shared their wealth of natural beauty with one another. “She had the most beautiful orange tree in front of her house and the oranges were like, you’ve never tasted before. It was just beautiful. And, actually, when my uncle sent me pictures of their house, everything was singed, but you could see the oranges hanging from the tree. 
The uniqueness of the town left a lasting impact on Williams. She remembers one of the items that made her own home special: a plastic squirrel named Oscar. She says, “Our family loved it. Oscar stood on a little fence right in front. There was this little wrought iron gate that would swing open before you got to my Nana’s front door and Oscar just stood right on a little pillar.”
From handmade windchimes to lawn decor, all the things that her neighbors likely picked up at the street fair are, according to Williams, the charm of the town and it cannot be recreated.
Williams says Altadena was never a particularly wealthy area. “I saw this comment from someone on social media that was talking about how like the people in North Carolina should be getting more attention because all the people in California have money. And I was like, no, no, no, no, no, not Altadena,” says Williams, expressing fear that the media will turn their efforts and attention elsewhere as time goes on.
She moved from California to Kansas City with her mom and stepdad when she was 10, but her Nana lived in the Altadena home for her whole life. Her uncle Al continued to live there until the home burned down in the Eaton Fire.
“My uncle, he’s always been someone who’s been really active in the community,” says Williams, “he used to do this thing every year where he would shave his head to raise money for cancer patients… And, so that’s the kind of person that he is, you know, anytime there’s a blood drive, he’s there. He was actually on the roof at four in the morning, the night of the fire.”
Williams wasn’t surprised to hear that he had been on the roof with a hose trying to protect the home. “He’s been there before, you know it’s not everybody’s first fire”
She recounts what her uncle said he saw from the rooftop that night, “He looked down the street, and about seven houses down, he saw a house just go up in flames. So, he was risking his life trying to save this home. Then he realized he had to just go because there wasn’t going to be any time. So he got off the roof, woke up his girlfriend, grabbed the dog, and they left.”
Back in Kansas City where Williams now resides, she woke up to a text message from her uncle letting the family know that they had evacuated. Within hours, they learned their house was gone.
