Los Angeles Lights

There are so many aspects that make Los Angeles a beautiful city. The obvious things might be architecture, famous points of interest such as Disneyland, the Hollywood Bowl, and the Sunset Strip. However one significance that is often subtle, is the Los Angeles light. When reading “L.A. Glows” by Lawrence Weschler, I learned a lot about how light affects the city as a whole and how Weschler believes that light is a huge part of what makes L.A. so special.

There are all types of lights, the light from the sun when it is bold and bright in summer or when it is hidden and rarely visible in winter. Then there are lights that come from the tall street lamps or the red flashing lights of fire trucks. Lights are everywhere, and it took an invisible disease to make me realize how much it plays a huge part in my life.

When I think of light, I think bright yet soft sunlight that shines through the car windows at around nine-thirty in the morning. I think of the red, yellow, and green lights that tell cars when to go, stop, or slow down. I think of the neon lights in store windows that spell out “OPEN,” or the light on my cell phone as I check the latest updates on Instagram. Lights are everywhere.In the story “LA Glows,” Weschler talks about the light of different seasons. He says, “And it seems to me, actually, that there are four-or, anyway, or at least four-lights in L.A” (Weschler 674). He goes on to say there is the “cruel, actinic light of late July” and the “nostalgic, golden light of late October.” Then there are the “gunmetal gray light of the months between December and July.” And lastly, there’s the light that is “clear as stone-dry champagne, after a full day of rain.”

As I read this section of the story where Weschler talks of all the light in Los Angeles, it made me think of my personal experience with L.A. light.

Six years ago, July 14th 2009, I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. My pediatrician informed me that I had Type 1 Diabetes and that I needed to go get more tests done at the hospital. I had been feeling sick for a few months prior and to know that I was going to be okay made me feel at ease. I remember sitting in the car, on the way to the hospital, and feeling so calm. I was looking out the window at the sky and it was clear as day. It reminds me of the “stone-dry champagne” sky that Weschler talked about. It was a bright blue with perfect white marshmallow clouds. It was the middle of summer and it was hot; the sun was shining bright, the kind of bright light that causes you to squint even when you’re sitting in the car.

As we drove up to the hospital we went to park in the underground parking garage. The bright, bold sunlight slowly disappeared as we drove in and it become dark. There were faint fluorescent lights and car headlights. We parked the car and got into the elevator. As we entered the elevator, we were greeted by the flickering fluorescent lights that tend to give me a headache. As we rode up in the elevator I closed my eyes to shut out the light, the people, the world. I wanted 30 seconds of pitch black to take a deep breath and prepare myself for this new chapter of my life.As we entered the hospital, it was very bright, the windows surrounding the building let in the natural sunlight. I felt they did that on purpose, to give the sick kids who were there a glimpse of happiness.

While it was bright, it felt cloudy at the same time. In a weird way it reminded me of fog. Fog can be beautiful all on its own; however, it often blocks out the beautiful sunlight from coming in. Weschler says, “Presently, the sun must have broken out from behind the fog bank-I realized this because suddenly the sand around me turned pale purplish pink and my own long shadow shot out before me. I looked up at the mountains, and they were gone: lost in the airlight” (Weschler 670). I think that both Weschler and I have the same opinion about fog. While fog tends to block people’s vision and hide people from seeing the beautiful lights, it has a presence all on its own.

Metaphorically, the hospital reminded me of fog. It was this beautiful building that let light shine in but the fact that it was a hospital full of sick kids, made it hard to really notice the beautiful sunlight shining through the windows. As we walked through the hospital it felt as though the further we went, the darker it became. I know that the lights were all the same; however, it somehow felt different. Walking through, I noticed the lights on the Gift Shop window, said “OPEN” with cards that hospital patients designed, displayed in the window below. I noticed the bright yellow neon sign that advertised a McDonald’s in the food court.

As I walked into the waiting room, I then noticed the light on the TV that was playing a show for the little kids to distract them from fear and worry of why they were in the hospital. I noticed the flashing numbers on the machine that checks my blood pressure. As they took blood from my veins, I noticed through the one small window in the exam room, that it was as though the light was dimming. The sun was beginning to set. They checked my heart rate and my reflexes and then looked into my eyes. A bright shining light was blasted into my pupils and felt like the equivalent of looking directly at the sun.

Being diagnosed in July was almost perfect if you compare it to how Weschler speaks of light in July. He says that from December to mid-July it is “gunmetal gray light.” And when I was first diagnosed in the beginning of July my life had changed overnight, there was a dark cloud hanging over my head. However, he then goes onto say that come late July, “the air actually turns purple tinged with gold, an awesome sight to behold…” (Weschler 675). This describes how I felt towards the end of July. It was still new for me; however, I was beginning to realize that I would be okay and everything would work out. It was still dark but the “light” in my life began to shine just like the “gold light,” began to shine through the sky in late July.

Something that is still the same yet entirely different is the natural sunlight that is let in through all the hospital windows. When I first noticed the light six years ago it felt as though the hospital was a “fog”; however, as I have grown up I have come to realize the hospital is not the “fog.” The fog that distracted me from the light that came through the windows six years ago, was myself. The fog isn’t the hospital itself but the attitude you carry into the hospital. I was scared and distracted, unable to realize the beauty around me. I was unable to be grateful for the ability to see around me.

However, now I realize that I am alive and while I have a condition that requires me to be careful and constantly monitor my blood sugar, I am okay. It took me a year or so to realize this and when I did, the “fog” disappeared. I was able to walk into the hospital and thank my lucky stars that I only had to go there every few months. I was able to look out the window and see the light, proof that I was okay and that I was still standing.The variation of lights and thinking back to them amaze me. Lights are most likely not the first thought that comes to mind, when we first think of Los Angeles.

Los Angeles light is what makes it special. For the past six years, I have gone back to Children’s Hospital Los Angeles every three to five months. I have gone to appointments at nine in the morning in December, when the light is soft and the sky feels overcast. I have gone to appointments at three in the afternoon, in early August when it is hot and the sun is bright and bold.

No matter what the light is like outside, the light when I get to the hospital is a constant. The darkness that appears as we enter the garage and makes my cell phone screen seem so bright. The flickering elevator lights, which I will always dislike. There is the light from the TV in the waiting room, that plays shows or movies. The light that shows numbers which tells me my blood pressure. There is that uncomfortable light that is blasted into my eyes and then there are all the lights in between. Everyone in Los Angeles perceives light differently and sometimes it is the hardships we go through that make us realize the beauty in the small things around us. In my experience, it is the lights I see in the city around me, that make me appreciate the beautiful city of Los Angeles.

Works Cited

Weschler, Lawrence. “L.A. Glows.” Writing Los Angeles. David L Ulin. NY, New York: Literary Classics, 2002. 666-676.