Earthquake: The Long Road Back : All in the Family : Return to the Nest Not All Home Sweet Home for the Displaced

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

Joan Cassese split from her husband of 10 years in 1992, setting off to start a new life. But when lurching earth crumbled her Woodland Hills apartment last month, she tumbled back in time. For one awkward night, Cassese moved in with The Ex--and has been couch-hopping ever since.

After yet another long day of unclogging drains and plunging toilets, plumber Charlie Scott can’t even smoke a cigarette, 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 with closed captions, as though watching some highfalutin foreign film.

“Charlie raises his eyebrows a lot around here because my parents are particular about things we’re not used to,” said 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.”

The San Fernando Valley has been filled with some bizarre bedfellows after the 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-wives.

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

Grown children endure the saccharine-sweet nicknames they won as infants. Obsessive mothers force chicken soup and 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 previous night. 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 one 22-year-old North Hollywood nurse forced to move back in with her widowed mom. “It’s really like some nightmare you have about going back to your childhood.

“Because no matter how nice your mother is, how understanding, how willing to help, she still lives life differently than yours. You think you’re finally out of the house and then you’re back and your mother is trying to stuff you with food like a turkey. It’s like, ‘Later Mom.’ ”

The Northridge earthquake has affected about 55,000 homes and apartments in the Los Angeles area. While 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’s a domestic-violence detective for the LAPD’s West Valley office who has been looking for signs that such family reunions don’t lead to violence.

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

“Like the guy from Canoga Park who punched out his wife, apparently from the stress of living with his in-laws,” Cosley said. “The in-laws called police. We’re still looking for him.”

As the dust clears from her own personal earthquake, 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, waits for Skinner when she goes out?

Five years away from home can change a young woman, she says. Things like that don’t grate on her as much. 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 so as to not wake their hosts.

Being good guests, they do what they can to keep the peace. But Cathy still isn’t used to her dad snooping into the pots on the stove. Charlie likes to eat late and his father-in-law early, so there always seems to be a meal cooking.

Then there was the time Charlie parked his truck too close to the security night light trip 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?’ ”

But Bill and Fern Burch say that, despite minor disagreements, everyone has made the best of things. After all, the kids don’t have to keep the television sound off at night.

“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 Sherman Oaks, Vicki Shenkman’s mother has had the paradoxical effects of dividing and uniting her family.

Sure, Mom butts her nose into arguments. The longer she stays, Shenkman says, the more opinions she has on every subject. And the schoolteacher and her husband cannot entertain anymore: Mom has moved into the living room.

But Mom’s presence has drawn Shenkman’s husband and young daughter closer. The girl runs to Dad with every outrageous thing Grandma has to say.

“My mom’s birthday is coming up,” Shenkman said. “And her son-in-law bought her a nice gift: A Coleman stove and a pup tent.”

Joan Cassese defines a new breed of post-earthquake victim: the middle-class homeless. You name the place, she’s slept there. Couches of co-workers and of pesky older brothers. She’s slept in the same bed as married-couple friends.

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 together. 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.”

With Cassese, there was no happy ending to the reunion. She and her husband still don’t talk much. She has moved on to other places as she searches for a permanent home.

“One night, I checked into a motel, just to get away from everybody and the questions,” she said. “But I’ve learned something from all of this--that I like my own company the best and that I can accommodate any situation. Still, it’s stressful not having your own home, with your own TV to flip to the stations you want.”

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. In a short time, a surprising chemistry has evolved.

Kathy 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 fast friends.

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

“It’s like the Brady Bunch in some ways,” Evert said. “It’s been wonderful. Dave is like a father figure to my daughter, something she has needed for a long time.”

Evert helps with the bills. She helps cook and clean when she’s not at work as a customer service representative. The twins obey her like a mother.

“In the morning, while Dave cooks breakfast, Kathy and I get the girls up for school,” Evert said. “I play tickle monster. She plays something else. We’re like sisters in that way.”

At night, Evert lays in bed and knows that good things can happen, even in the face of disaster.

“It’s strange,” she 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.”