Fire, Loss and Community

It was Nov 11, 2018, at 1:11 PM an auspicious day, time and hour when I began to write this.

We have been in mandatory evacuation since Thursday afternoon for a wildfire. As Californian’s we are accustomed to fires each year, however, this one has come in late for the season, it was fast and furious with the Santa Ana winds fueling it.

I  am back home, technically I am not supposed to be here now either, however, after  I evacuated my horses and those of friends, I returned. Because of my adjacent neighbors who also stayed, we were able to save our homes from becoming engulfed in flames standing vigil with hoses and shovels throughout the days and nights.

Do not lecture me on the pros and cons of staying or leaving. Please suffice it to say, it’s a personal and circumstantial choice whether to make a decision one way or another. If I had children I would have gotten them out without a hesitation. Since this is not my case, I stayed to do what I could do.

The world at large seems to disappear when there is imminent danger.  And the focus of one’s life becomes safety and survival.

Only last week I wrote about community and over the past few days, it is a community that has in fact proven to be the glue for many of us.

At the time of this writing, I believe more than 300K have been evacuated and many of the homes have been without electricity, for days. Upwards of 200+ homes have been lost. Several friends have lost their homes… and unfortunately, I was the one to break the devasting news to one family.

Through emergencies, one sees ones true colors. and it was with the phone call to Russell that took my breath away. Russell evacuated with his wife Alex, two children, three cats, and two dogs in two cars.

My mother who at 85 yrs old and living alone, also evacuated her home. Whizin’s, one of the oldest landmarks in our area, became the home away from home for many, as people gathered in the parking lot. From there we could safely look north and follow the flames that were fast approaching our homes. My mother stayed the night in her car with her two cats who unlike mine were quiet and calm.

At 3 AM I received a call from my friend Isabelle. Her home in the Malibu Lake community was on mandatory evacuation. I went to help her move her horses when Russell’s family passed by us. We all waved goodbye, little did we all know that would be the last time they would see their home. When you see a caravan of cars driving out in the wee hours of the night, blue and red lights circling, megaphones blaring, it creates a chilling feeling that something terrible is upon us, giving you pause even for a fleeting moment, that something ominous is looming.

That was early Friday morning. The fire had started not 12 hours prior, already devasting so much in its path.

At about 4 AM after Isabel arrived also at Whizin’s with her two girls and two dogs, I received a call from my neighbor that my property was burning.  Rushing home I could see the fierce red and almost blood purple smoke in the direction of my home. As I rounded the bend perched on the hillside above my home two houses were aflame that would soon be only ash and rubble.

My heart was in my stomach, as I recognized the lights of a fire truck in my neighbor’s property that borders the front of mine. I parked on the road, walked in slowly, willing myself to be strong in the face of possible tragedy.

Thankfully my neighbors and some volunteers that I have yet to meet averted fire from the back of my property and my home was safe, for the moment. The pressing problem was the flames on my neighbors’ property, that if unattended could meet my fence and again threaten my home. The firemen and those of us who looked on, watched as the flames descended the hillside, propane tanks and cars exploding in the too near distance, alerting us to perils of the morning.

As the fire blazed,  a neighbor and I hosed down my side fence and hoped for the best.

Unfortunately, within hours two more homes were lost when the hillside fire changed course away from my property, instead to feed off of the homes next to it.

After a few moments or hours, time seemed to stop, the sun began to rise. I loaded Joie my faithful Doberman back into my truck with the horse trailer attached to go retrieve my mother from the parking lot and bring her to my home. Even though the evacuation was still in effect, I felt safer to have her under my roof. In spite of many offers for her to hunker down on someone else’s property, she chose to stay with me.

I had lost all sense of time at this point, however, I know I left my home again, to head back to where I had evacuated my horses.   The fire had jumped the freeway and they were surrounded by open space. I raced to get to them. Unfortunately, I was not allowed into the area. My anxiety rose to a new level, until the next day when I received word they were safe. The property they were on was completely surrounded by flames, but with the help of the firemen, neither home nor horses were touched. It would be another 4 days before they returned home.

Not more than an hour after I had left my home, I received a call from my mother that my property was aflame again, this time with a fire truck and the men in yellow doing what our garden hoses could not.

Again I raced back, my heart in my stomach, glad to have Joie by my side. There was a comfort that I felt and a strength that I gained from watching her stoically looking forward as we drove through the smoke and towards the flames. She never once barked or strayed away from my side the 6 days we were on alert. Dogs are called a man’s best friend for good reason. Words cannot express how my dog, Joie was my emotional rock.

My story of loss is not great. A fence line, some electrical boxes and water lines. I was fortunate beyond words.

I have always chosen to live in areas that were challenged with natural disasters, hurricanes, flooding, earthquakes, and fires.

This time, I was lucky to be able to provide a safe haven for my friends that lost their homes albeit some only temporarily while they waited for the roads to reopen.  We ate what thawed in the freezer, we showered in 5 mins shifts to conserve the hot water and when the electricity was restored, after several days, the ever powerful internet service came alive and we all felt somehow reconnected.

Over the course of the next five days hot spots would flare-up and with the diligence of my neighbors, we were able to mitigate any more damage. On several occasions, friends would just show up to see if they could help. One evening I was punchy from exhaustion. Howard and Gary arrived. Together we knocked down some hotspots on mine and my neighbors’ property… I was able to sleep more soundly that night knowing that the fire was not on course to my home.

The strength of the human spirit is humbling to me. The bravery in the face of adversity is inspiring.

When I received the news from Isabel’s husband also named Alex, who stayed to fight the fires at their home, that Russell and family had lost theirs, my heart sank.

I took it upon my self to call Russell to break the news.

During the short, less than 24 hrs that had passed, Russell had continuously checked on me via text, urging me to take care.

I hesitated for one brief moment as I dialed his number and before I pressed the last number I took a deep breath.

“Russell, I have some bad news… pause…Your home is gone”

{Pause}…”Wow”, was his response…Pause again and then, “This will be a good lesson for the kids”.

His attitude and those of his wife and kids are remarkable. Never a comment of pity or blame, it is a ‘carry-on, we can handle this’ attitude. I am sure the emotion of the situation catches them all in their private moments, and tears must flow, along with a myriad of emotions. But on their faces, they carry strength and composure.

All in all, I know at least 12 friends that have lost everything. When I think about The Let Go, this brings it to a whole new perspective. They are not simply letting go of stuff, but of the stuff that memories are infused in. Most will face a change in lifestyle at least for the near future. They will Let Go of what they thought was a future, to face and embrace a new future. Each item that they lost will resurface in a memory when they go to reach for what was and come to understand that what was, is no longer.

We are the fortunate ones that walked away from this wildfire with our lives and families, we are more fortunate than others.

It makes me think of the war-torn countries, that will not be rebuilt with the coming months or years.  Of communities that do not have the infrastructures able to donate essentials, money, and help.

With the divisiveness in our country, it mattered not that someone that needed help was of opposing political views, just that they were a human, a neighbor, perhaps a stranger that needed a hand.

I believe the structures lost has climbed to over 1,452 destroyed and 337 damaged since I began to write this a week ago. I do not know how many lives were lost, but whatever the number it is too many.

With disasters, the show of kindness is often amplified.

If there could be one wish that I could manifest it would be for the showing of kindness to remain as the new normal.

We never know what personal struggles our fellow man may be experiencing, without the added hindrance of a disaster. Can we learn from these events that it takes so little to offer a bottle of water, or to move aside to let another pass, who has more of a need to hurry? By lending a hand and doing whatever was needed, in return gave me more. Energy begets energy and with that, I feel fulfilled.

 The Dalai Lama always says, “Choose kindness whenever possible. It is always possible.”

 

 

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