Earthquake: The Long Road Back : All in the Family : Home Can Be Hard to Take as Displaced Return to Nest

Kristi Skinner left home at age 18 after years of rebellious warfare with a protective mother. Now, five years later, she’s back--an earthquake refugee forced by necessity to give mom another try.

In Beverly Glen, Barbara Soll’s home was invaded by an army of grandchildren and a mother-in-law who snored so loudly that her family claimed she could stir the coyotes in the bushes outside.

After yet another long day of unclogging drains and plunging toilets, plumber Charlie Scott can’t even smoke a cigarette while zoning out in front of the boob tube. For now, he’s living with the in-laws, who can’t stand smoke and go to bed so early that Scott and his wife have to watch TV programs with closed captions, as though they were highfalutin foreign films.

“Charlie raises his eyebrows a lot around here because my parents are particular about things we’re not used to,” said his wife, Cathy. “Like, they don’t smoke and we do. So we end up lighting up outside in the back yard. It’s kind of cold but there we are, huddled like a couple of teen-agers.”

Southern California has been filled with bizarre bedfellows since last month’s temblor as countless displaced residents have taken advantage of something far more traumatic than the no-strings-attached kindness of strangers:

Grandmothers. In-laws. Kooky co-workers. Estranged siblings. Ex-spouses.

Under many roofs, it has been a replay of “All in the Family.” The Meathead arguing with grouchy father-in-law Archie Bunker. It’s cranky Uncle Charlie moved back in to feed the boys in “My Three Sons.” “Melrose Place” meets the “Golden Girls.”

Grown children have endured the saccharine nicknames they had as infants. Obsessive mothers have forced chicken soup and brown-bag lunches on their white-collar sons. Even among friends, there have been fights over first-shower rights, angry looks at the breakfast table over the teething baby’s cries the night before. And, of course, there’s the opinionated grandmother poking her nose into family arguments.

“Sure, your mother loves you--she loves you too much,” said a 22-year-old North Hollywood nurse forced to move back in with her mom. “It’s really like some nightmare you have about going back to your childhood.”

The Northridge earthquake has affected about 55,000 homes and apartments in the Los Angeles area. And although statistics are hard to come by, Red Cross officials estimate that thousands of residents continue to seek temporary and long-term shelter with friends, family and co-workers.

Robert Cosley has been keeping an eye on such informal arrangements. He is a domestic violence detective for the Los Angeles Police Department’s West San Fernando Valley office who has been looking for signs that such family reunions lead to violence.

So far, the instances have been few. But as time goes on and family guests reluctantly overstay their welcome, Cosley says, even the calmest nerves can become frayed. People lash out.

As the dust clears, 22-year-old Kristi Skinner has realized that being back home in Glendale isn’t so bad after all.

So what if her mother, Sharon Saye, and her 6-year-old sister call her Sissy? And what if mom, as she did years ago, once again waits up for Skinner if she goes out?

Five years away from home can change a young woman, she says. She and mom are friends now.

“Sure, we’ve resumed some of our old roles now that she’s back home,” said Saye, an Encino dentist. “But there have been the surprises, like coming home to find the house clean and the dishes done. That didn’t happen before.”

Most nights, Charlie and Cathy Scott hold their breath at her parents’ Canoga Park home, tiptoeing around to avoid waking them.

But there was the time Charlie parked his truck too close to the security night light switch in the front yard. “My dad made him move his truck about six inches,” Cathy said. “After they went to bed, Charlie said, ‘Why didn’t he just turn the dumb light off?’ ”

Bill and Fern Burch say that, despite some minor disagreements, everyone has made the best of things.

“Heck, Bill is hard of hearing and I just blank everything out,” Fern said. “We just close our door at night. The kids are just trying to be considerate.”

In Beverly Glen, while playing host to her stepdaughter, three grandchildren and 83-year-old mother-in-law, Barbara Soll has wiped kiddie fingerprints from furniture and played referee.

“My stepdaughter woke us up in the middle of the night, nearly in tears--she said she couldn’t take it anymore, with the neighbor’s half-dog, half-wolf howling and my mother-in-law’s snoring,” said the legal assistant who works with her husband, an attorney.

The next night was no better. “We finally had to get her a pair of earplugs,” Soll said.

Joan Cassese defines a new breed of post-earthquake victim: middle-class homeless. You name the place, she’s stayed there. Couches of co-workers and pesky older brothers.

And then there was The Ex.

The morning of the quake, he came driving up to her Woodland Hills apartment with friends and drove her to the safety of his home--the one that used to be theirs. She stayed only one night.

“It was kind of weird, kind of tense,” said the 31-year-old accountant. “He didn’t want the divorce. We’re not enemies, but it was hard because there are still lots of feelings there. His parents called and thought it was strange that I answered the phone. It was strange.”

In the aftermath of the quake, new friendships have been forged.

Canyon Country residents Dave and Kathy Baldwin opened their home to a single mother whose apartment was devastated by the temblor.

Baldwin and her guest, Ronnalee Evert, are both in their late 30s. Baldwin has twin 7-year-old girls and Evert a 6-year-old daughter, all of whom have become friends.

Brianna Evert has even taken to calling Dave Baldwin “Papa Dave.”

“It’s like ‘The Brady Bunch’ in some ways,” Evert said. Evert helps with the bills. She helps cook and clean, and the twins obey her like a mother.

“It’s strange,” Evert said. “I would have never in a million years wished for this earthquake. But now, every night, I say my prayers knowing that I am blessed to have met a family like this.

“Because we’re all one family now.”