Sometimes I light a candle before I start writing. It’s a way to honor the time, to set it apart. Tonight when I lit my candle, I thought about the fires that are burning in Southern California, about the evacuation orders that have expanded, about the people who have been allowed to return to what used to be their homes and are only finding rubble.
I live in fire country. We had a fire burn near our town last summer and were ordered to evacuate. It was the first evacuation order that I remember since we’ve lived here, but we’ve had at least two evacuation warnings in the past. The WatchDuty app, which gives real time updates on area fires, has been a precious information source on my phone for years now. I read tonight in a NY Times piece that WatchDuty has become a “lifeline” for Los Angeles residents this week, that it’s gained 14 million unique users and has had more than two million downloads. When fires come, information is gold.
While fires are causing death and destruction in the Los Angeles area, I finally got around to unloading the trunk of my car this week. We were lucky this year: we’ve had measurable soaking rain. But sometime last June or July, when the weather was warming and the rains had gone, I filled my trunk with special keepsakes. I have done this for years, probably since the first fire scare that we had a few months after we moved to this mountain town. That year, my husband and children and I had ventured down to Sacramento to visit the State Fair. Ironically, my children were making their way through the Smokey Bear fire safety exhibit when my phone started to ding with text messages from family and friends. There was a fire in our town, they said. I looked to the east and saw a massive smoke plume.
Thankfully, that fire veered away from our town and no homes were lost.
I am not the only one who fills the car with mementos and drives around with them all summer. Because here is the unfortunate thing about our fire season, which can start at the end of May and linger through early December. You never know when one will start. And when one does, you don’t know if you are going to be home (which is generally preferable) or at work (which is not so good if your pets are home alone). There are things that I have done in case a fire breaks out when I am not home: all of my good neighbors have keys to my house. My cat carrier lives outside the front door, all summer long. My go-bag with all the papers that I don’t want in my car is also by the front door. If they could, I know that one of my good neighbors would stop by to grab the cat and my go-bag. That would be enough.
(And the dog? Are you curious about Biscuit? Biscuit is a lucky puppy. He has a labradoodle friend who lives in a nearby town and spends most of his time with her family when I am at work. In case of a fire here, he would be safe there. Unfortunately, the cat has no such connections and has to stay home alone.)
Since I’ve lived through several evacuation warnings, I have learned a little better how to handle the tension that immediately descends. The first time we prepared to evacuate, I was a mess on so many levels. I couldn’t think. I could barely breathe. When we received the evacuation warning last summer, I was still a mess, but the adrenaline surge didn’t surprise me and I was better able to think and breathe and pack up pet food and pillows and load the car.
There was a fire a few years ago that burned through the town where my children’s high school was. It destroyed numerous homes, including the home of one of my children’s coaches. I am remembering the wisdom from a friend who told me about his friends who lost everything in that fire: they lost their possessions and property but lived to tell about it. They survived and are OK now. Maybe we need a statewide public service announcement from folks whose homes were destroyed by recent fires: you’ll be OK, it would say. It’s terrible, but you are not alone and you will rebuild.
Please don’t die with a garden hose in your hand, trying to save your family estate.
Here is another thing about these fires and the houses that miraculously survive. That might not be the blessing you think. I know a family who lost their home in the fire that basically destroyed the entire town of Paradise a few years ago. Some of their neighbors’ homes survived. My friend told me that in the end, the neighbors who didn’t lose their homes almost wished that they had, because they were left living in something that looked like a war zone. Their community was gone, and many of their homes had smoke damage and other issues that the insurance companies didn’t want to help with.
The entire state is feeling the effects of these fires; there is palpable grief here. California is mourning. I am mourning. There are people on the internet saying that they are not surprised that California is suffering this way, that this is a godless place and that perhaps this marks the beginning of the end times that the Bible talks about in the book of Revelation. They believe that God’s wrath is being poured out on our sinful state.
I don’t believe that. I don’t believe that for one breath or heartbeat. What I do believe is that climate change is real, that these significant weather events have been increasing in severity and frequency for the last few years, and that they will continue. They are going to continue, and no place and no one will be exempt, not even the wealthy and privileged among us or those who live in the Bible belt.
What a way for the New Year to start. I have a feeling we are going to be in for a rocky one. I’m grateful that we are in it together.
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