They say time makes everything better, and talking about stuff helps. Well, I'm not quite sure exactly who "they" are... but they are only half right in this instance. Yes, time will make the experience fade a bit... but right now, talking about it doesn't help.

I heard an interview with a well-known soft-jazz musician who lives in the area and he was relaying his evacuation experience. Like me, his home escaped damage. But listening to him recount exactly what I went through, and knowing that we came through it all just fine while literally thousands of families did not just seemed so shallow.

True, we had to escape. But we both had lots of notice. We had time to pack and take the things that were most valuable to us (and make decisions of what to leave behind--like my mother's teddy bear). While I was part of a small group that was police escorted through an area with fire on both sides of us, I was not in imminent danger of being consumed by flames as were some people.

Bottom line: I had a home to come back to, for which I am most grateful. I did not have to deal with sifting through the ashes, nor did I have to seek assistance from any of the many public agencies that set up camp down the street from me.

But I have been greatly affected by this fire. I drive through one of the hardest hit areas each day on my way to work. Seeing homes that have literally melted into the ground. Trees that were once two-hundred year old majestic olds that are now charred hulls. I weep inside for all that has been lost... for the families that have lost their teddy bears, for the landscape that has lost its beauty for years to come.

For three weeks, each day the landscape looked sadder and sadder. Even while the various utility companies were stringing new wires, installing new poles, the vegetation was crumbling.

But then, last week the cleanup began. Erosion control measures became evident. Many of the blackened skeletons were removed, leaving just blackened ground. But it looks better. It looks more... normal...

Yes, time... even just a few weeks... is making this better. Most of the families will rebuild and have new homes. Nature will regenerate itself and once be green, lush, and beautiful.

But it will all be different. Not necessarily a bad thing, but nothing will be the same again. And I guess that's what life is all about: growing, moving forward... changing.

Monday, November 05, 2007

Fallbrook Fires 2007 - Reflections...

Exactly two weeks, I became a "fire runaway". Fortunately, my story has a happy ending, unlike so many others. Over 200 homes (at least... at first the estimate was over 500) were completely destroyed, with countless others damaged just in my town alone. Close to 9,500 acres were ravaged by flames so hot, vegetation and trees more than 100 years old were killed instantly.

I knew it was going to be a bad day when I awoke about 5:30AM that morning to learn the humidity was only 4%. In all the years I've lived here, the lowest I've ever seen the humidity first thing in the morning was around 30%. Even in the heat of day, the lowest was 7%.

Another sign was I could not only hear the wind howling--one of the things I love about my house is that I cannot hear the wind in most rooms and since I am not fond of wind, this is a good thing--but also could feel the house shaking from it.

Then I turned on the TV news to learn that sure enough, two fires had started at the east end of the area across the freeway. (A bit of geography: if we were to incorporate, in land mass we'd be second only to San Diego.) And since the wind was blowing from the north, probably no reason to worry... except that all emergency forces would be heading that way... so if something else were to start up, no one could come.

Feeling foolish, I decided to pack up stuff. I'd always had a plan of what I'd take: pictures my mother had created, a limited edition photograph from my brother, needlepoint pictures stitched by my step-grandmother, photos from my sister. Certainly important papers and a box of checks. A suitcase of clothes... with lots of underwear. Another suitcase of blankets and towels. Naturally Mac, Dell, and Dana, without question. Lots and lots of Zantac.

Gathering my possessions was not the problem... but I was a bit taken aback at how long it took to pack. An hour. I'd never have made it had I only had minutes like so many people I was learning about who were escaping from what became known as the Witch fire about 30 miles from me. But I had no real reason to worry... in a day or so, I'd be spending hours putting everything back and chiding myself for being such a worry-wart.

By 9AM, the fire had jumped the freeway (eight lanes plus a huge median). Not so good, but still a bit south of me and definitely east. With the wind still rippin' from the north.

By 11AM, they were evacuating the area where I'd made an offer on a home telling them to move west. Decision made: if we had to evacuate, I was takin' my dad and stepmother and their little dog (Suzy) with me... Began figuring out how to get all my possessions into the trusty HIghlander leaving enough room for all their prized possessions and them.

Around noon, my brother called from New York, (about the fourth conversation with him...plus two with my sister...) who told me that the evacuation area was now a huge swatch of the east side... moving very close to me. Funny... there was NOTHING on the any of the local news stations about this...

At one o'clock, decided it was time to pack the car and move on out. Best to get to my dad's place as he's located farther north... Said good bye to the possessions I was forced to leave behind trying not to acknowledge the fact that I might not see them again, and telling myself they are just "things"...

As I drove out of my neighborhood, noticed a house about two blocks from me was fully engulfed with no firefighters around. With a sinking feeling, I had to face the reality there was a very good chance I'd have nothing to come "home" to...

By 3PM, had everything else loaded, including Suzy's stuff with just enough room for passengers remaining. The HIghlander was pointed towards the escape route... which we hopefully remained positive we wouldn't be taking. And good news... my answering machine was still taking calls...

At 10PM, the wind shifted and the flames crested the hill in their march towards more destruction. We loaded up and moved 'em out...

to be continued...