Understanding the Riots Part 4 : Seeing Ourselves : LOS ANGELES : Nothing will ever be the same.

F orget th e “Land of the Fruits and Nuts” business.

Anyone who doesn’t love Los Angeles is boring, a hillbilly or has a hole in their head.

When millions of snowbound people watch the Rose Parade every year, what’s the first thing they do? Board the next plane to El Lay. And as they approach, they all exclaim , “Look at that mountain. Look at those trees. Look at that bum over there, man , he’s down on his knees . . .”

These three approaches are some of the weapons I often used to defend my hometown against those who took pleasure in “dissing” L.A. for its smog, traffic, drive-by shootings and “la-la-ness.”

And like many natives, it was never difficult for me to gloss over the problems of a city I felt was the center of everything current, hip and hop and fresh.

It was so easy to find fun in this city of pleasure--the shops, the trendy restaurants, the entertainment, the mountains, the beaches--all only a freeway away.

That was true for me not only in Hollywood or the Westside, but especially true in South and East L.A., where the diversity and richness of the communities helped overshadow--to some extent--how much harder life was.

The music, the beauty and barber shops that were centers of gossip and community togetherness, the restaurants with the fragrant odor of “chicken n’ waffles” sneaking out the front door somehow made it all seem that everything, if not all right now, would be all right someday.

In L.A., superficial is easy.

But the recent events have made me hang up my “weapons.”

This isn’t an intellectual reaction or a comment on the politics of the unrest.

It’s the emotional reaction of an L.A. native who must confront his old naivete and the harsh reality of racial scars and physical destruction.

My parents live in the same house where I grew up in southwest Los Angeles. Before the riots, when I would visit them, I saw the same neighborhood stores and markets where I bought candy and comic books as a kid. Now, most of those stores are ruins.

My gut reaction when I saw the destruction: I had to leave town. It was the first time I had ever felt that way. I felt violated.

Those feelings surprised me, and later made me ashamed.

Now the cleanup is well under way and officials say “the healing” is beginning. Outside the ravaged parts of the city, it’s almost business as usual--people laughing, relaxing, as if nothing unusual happened in the past two weeks. No tension, no anger, no worries.

But I know nothing is the same . . . and nothing will ever be the same. But, once again, I am beginning to feel the old feelings. Maybe everything will be all right. Why? I love L.A.