Category: San Diego fire

Life goes on

Thanks to all for your kind thoughts in the aftermath of a very stressful week here in San Diego County. I saw stars last night and today, blue sky. Life is slowly returning to pre-fire normal. My son went back to his high school today after the fires had forced a week’s closure. When he got home he asked me to guess what he found in his locker. I didn’t have to think twice. I knew it wasn’t a love note or a forgotten ham sandwich. Ash covered the tops of all his books and papers. Lockers are housed outside in San Diego. All the lockers at his school were lined with ash on the inside. But he brushed it away and now it’s gone.

For so many others of course, the fire’s aftermath can’t just be brushed away. My family and I were some of the lucky ones. Nearly 350 students in my son’s school district alone were left homeless by the fire. Well, not exactly homeless. Houseless is a better word. The recovery and rebuilding process will be long and tedious for so many. I wish there was a way to speed up time so that the Big Inbetween could somehow seem short. I’ve heard that for many of the victims of the 2003 San Diego fires, it was 2005 before life seemed normal again. Kind of puts my light and momentary inconveniences in perspective.

I should mention, too, that in our haste to flee last Monday, I forgot to take a picture when we released Truman back into the wild. (Truman is the tarantula, as in “Hairy S.” Geddit?) I had promised the Edge that I would post a picture of his release. But the day we evauated was also the day we decided Truman needed to be able to run like the dickens into a rock pile if the flames reached the house. So the last thing we did before we left the house to whatever destiny awaited it, was let Truman go. It actually wasn’t that dramatic. I think he might’ve been a little sluggish from all the crickets he had eaten the day before. (Note to self: Do not put all four crickets in tarantula cage thinking he will eat just one a day. He will eat them all the same day. Little hairy piglet. ) When we drove down the driveway, Truman was just sitting on the piece of bark we used to coax him out of his temporary home, watching us go. I’m thinking he might not have wanted us to see which way he went.

And now that the local world is spinning on its axis at the normal speed, here’s a look at a new mass market release by my good friend and simply the nicest person you will ever meet, Deb Raney. Within This Circle is a sequel to her stunning A Vow to Cherish.
Within This Circle continues the story of John Brighton and Julia Sinclair. After a tumultuous courtship, John and Julia Brighton have a second chance at happiness, a fresh marriage and, now that their children are grown, a new era in their lives to revel in the promise of the future. Only such a promise is never guaranteed. And life can change in a heartbeat. The Brightons’ life is turned upside down when John’s daughter, Jana, abandons her husband Mark and three-year-old daughter. As Jana struggles through delayed grief over her mother’s death, her actions put her marriage and her own daughter in danger. John and Julia reach out to little Ellie, to give the young couple time to heal, but the little girl is confused and longing for her mother. How much sorrow and stress can both fledgling marriages endure? Two very different couples, each with only their love and faith to guide them.
Check it out. See you on Friday. And if you happen to see Truman, tell him I said hey and for pity’s sake, go easy on the crickets.

Things to take when you flee

Suppose you had just handful of minutes to gather what was really important to you, what you couldn’t imagine living without? Suppose you had to fit it all in your vehicle with your family, your dog and cat, and water and food and clothes and boring-but-important papers. What would you take?

I know what I would take. Photo albums.

Really. That’s about it.

On Sunday night when my family and I (sort of) went to bed, a wildfire was devouring brush in the foothills that line the horizon outside my kitchen window. High winds were already fueling the thing and we knew we would not sleep. We knew before we turned out the light that San Diego County would be in the line of fire for the next two days. No pun intended. Santa Ana winds, which had already reduced the relative humidity to single digits, would rip across the tinder-dry landscape over the next 48 hours feeding the fire like gasoline feeds a sports car.

By dawn Monday, the Witch Creek fire – one of several in San Diego County – had raced down the foothills and devoured hundreds of homes less than eight miles away from my house – many belonging to good friends. At 2 p.m our power was gone. At 4 p.m. we were evacuated. The fire had turned south and east. Towards us.

We packed the cars with the essentials for the unknown. Would we be able to stay with family in southern Rancho Bernardo or would they be evacuated as well? Would we end up at Qualcomm Stadium? After we packed what we had to take (clothes, water, food, bedding, towels, important papers), we packed what we wanted to take – in the tiny amount of space left to us. For me, it was the photo albums.

As I ran out to my car with my hand over my nose and mouth to keep out the choking smoke, this is what I carried. The box of photo albums.

The proof that I’d had a blessed life.

Funny, I didn’t grab the CPU for my computer. The back-up flash drive in my briefcase was enough. I didn’t bring the first copies of my published works, nor any of the hundreds of books I own. I didn’t even bring my address book or business cards or Rolodex. And that surprises me because I actually had room for those. I brought the Josh Groban Christmas CD I had just bought and hadn’t listened to, the library book I am reading for book club on Friday (I am not even sure we will still meet) and my photo albums. And that’s it.

I am back at home now. We were allowed to return today and our power has been restored. The worst for my family is over but I am very aware that for others, the odyssey is just beginning.

When you are forced to reduce your possessions to that which you would carry in a shopping cart if you were homeless, you find out some interesting things about yourself. You find out what defines you.

I guess when it’s all said and done, I want to be able to remind myself I have memories no fire can steal and here they are in this box. They are mine. They are me.

And I suppose if I didn’t have the photos, I would still have the memories, but I know how fragile we are. I know a tangible reminder of what has made life rich and meaningful -like a box of photographs – is sometimes what keeps us from slipping off the edge when it seems like we’ve lost everything. Know what I mean?