I was born and raised in the Pacific Palisades. A beautiful, small-town oasis, between the mountains and the sea, somehow located in a major city. Since before I can remember, going to the village was a special part of our daily life. These were the days of Morts Deli, Terri’s, Village Books, Kay N Daves, Tivoli, Blockbuster on Monument st, trick or treating in the Huntingtons, Baskin Robbins on Swarthmore for ice cream after school. Sundays at Will Rogers or Palisades Park and then the farmers market to sample as many tamales as possible. Our doctor, dentist, vet, dry cleaners, beloved Gelson’s market. Our home, friends and family’s homes. Every memory. It was all there. When Caruso was set to develop the town, we mourned what then felt like the loss of our childhood. The saving grace was Antioch street—Swarthmore would never be the same, but Antioch st would remain largely unchanged. Then we mourned again, with the loss of Cathay Palisades, which fueled us with Chinese food on Christmas and countless Sunday nights. Slowly, businesses kept changing, but the spirit of the old Palisades remained, a large part of that was thanks to Cafe Vida. I reflected on this after having lunch there the other week, telling my family after how comforting it was to eat there, how it could have been any day in 2005. I thought, this place better stay in business forever. Whenever I tell new friends about “my town,” they always make fun of me and say, you’re from LA, not a “town.” I’d always reply with—No I promise it really is a town. My heart is broken for our community. Friends and family members homes, cherished businesses, all turned to rubble. Hearing the words on the news: “The Palisades is gone” was soul crushing. I feel so lucky to have grown up in the Palisades. When I close my eyes, I can see the beauty and feel the warmth of my town, the spirit of the old Palisades, and our collective love for it, which is indestructible.
