At this writing, we’re into our second week of some of the most horrendous fires in the history of Northern California. They are still burning and the air is more than a little smoky.
Understandably, we’re all nervous. After hearing State Sen. Mike McGuire, we’d better stay nervous and keep on our toes.
“Hard to believe: Firefighters estimate that at times, the flames raced 230 feet per second and, inconceivably, threw embers a full mile ahead of the fire front. It moved so fast that chickens, cats and other animals were charred where they stood, left standing like blackened statues.”
With our power off, no internet, and erratic cell phone reception, the worst was not knowing when or how we would learn if the moment for leaving had come. I dug up an old AM/FM battery radio and we were once again connected to the outside world.
After that first terrible night of the Santa Rosa conflagration, we packed our car and pick-up. Zack is the best packer I know. With the back car seats folded flat and a canopy on the truck, I was surprised at how much we could carry.
As always, important papers and family records came first. After two large metal file boxes for us and two more for my mother-in-law’s documents, what we chose next were photos, then some family keepsakes and last, music for Zack, books for me.
These days Zack keeps his music on his iPod, much easier to grab than his entire collection of every Jethro Tull LP that we saved from a fire in the early 80s. That time a sheriff’s deputy banged on our door at 4 a.m. yelling we had 15 minutes to leave.
This time we had more warning. I didn’t realize until later that neither of us gave a thought to what we have come to call “just stuff.”
With tens of thousands of evacuees already in the five-county area, we also packed camping equipment. We knew an emergency shelter would be a last resort, especially with Zack’s mother.
For those who suffer with Alzheimer’s, strange places, especially crowded places, cause disorientation, fear and panic. We thought ,if nothing else, we could find a campsite, even if it was just a wide spot by the road.
Those kinds of inconveniences are minor in the bigger picture. This has been a terrible tragedy, one that claimed over 40 lives, destroyed over 6,000 homes and businesses, and cut a swath of absolute destruction through entire neighborhoods.
There is no way to offer sufficient gratitude and appreciation to those who fought so hard to protect us. Sometimes they lost, but they didn’t quit.
Day by day, the massive effort struggled to gain ground. Firefighters, first responders, emergency and medical personnel, police officers, family, friends, neighbors and strangers worked side by side despite danger and beyond exhaustion, heroes all.
For over a week, race, religion, gender and political beliefs didn’t seem to matter. Fittingly, in the heavy smoke and fall of ashes, we all pretty much looked the same.
Now to clean up, repair and rebuild; not just homes and businesses, but lives as well. It will take a very long time to repair the damages. It will take much longer to ease the pain of the deeper wounds of the heart.
Wouldn’t it be something if we could build upon the compassionate, caring community that came into being when it was most needed?
“Don’t be so naive,” a friend tells me. “C’mon Pam, at your age?”
As far back as grade school, my mother would respond to one of my crazier ideas with, “You’ve always been such a dreamer.” Her words still echo in my memory although she’s been gone these 13 years.
Maybe I am naive and maybe I am just dreaming, but what do we have to lose by trying? What do we have to lose?
Pamela Tinnin writes from her ranch on Pine Mountain. She can be reached at pa**********@ya***.com.
