The Fire This Time (LynnK)

Sunrise over San Diego, captured by Kevin Hopkins from his terrace a couple days ago.

Morning and evening, the sun has been blood-red all week. The ash, Kevin said, is falling so fast it looks like a snow storm.

You’ve probably seen the reports on the news, hellish flames leapfrogging the hills and skittering along the valleys. Firefighters and police evacuating half a million people. Water-dropping aircraft often grounded by the Santa Ana winds.

Photo by Robert Conaway

Like many others, you may have asked yourself why people settle in an area at such risk of wildfires. Beats me, except that if everyone in the world settled in the places secure from natural disasters, we’d be stacked up like cordwood.

I’ve been ensconced in the safest corner of San Diego country (unless there’s a tsunami, in which case look for my corpse several miles inland). Early on I helped gather and tote donations to Qualcomm Stadium, but within a short time, volunteers were so many that we were tripping over one another. So I holed up out of the way, in large part because the polluted air was playing havoc with me. Tuesday I walked a few blocks to the grocery, feeling fine, but walking back, I had to stop three times and sit on the curb with my head down for several minutes. I forget I lost a lot of lung capacity a few years ago from pulmonary embolisms, and that may have been a factor.

Anyhow, being housebound with closed windows and a cat, I’ve been watching the 24/7 local news reports about the fire. They did a terrific job, the people in the studio and those on the ground. The national media, not so much.

It’s been funny how the big-wigs all seemed to zero in on the same idiotic (and fairly irrelevant) stories. Most did on-site commentaries from the largest evacuation site, Qualcomm, focusing on the relative “luxury” of the accommodations. Like, oh, sleeping in your car in the parking lot, if you want to stay near your pets. They weren’t allowed in the stadium. Those who camped inside were allotted cots or air mattresses(!) and blankets (!) and pillows (!!). Plenty of food and water.

But no roof over their heads. Daytime temps were in the 90's, hotter when reflected off the pavement and concrete surfaces. At night, the temperature dropped considerably. The air was thick with smoke and burned chemicals. There were howling infants. Bored and sometimes rowdy kids. Uncertainty and discomfort. The fear of losing everything in the fire.

So what did the big shots tell America? Why, about the gourmet food laid out for the evacuees by local restaurants. Musicians. Magicians. Massages. Acupuncture. Hey, it’s just like going to a Vegas spa! Those spoiled, effete So-Cal snobs.

Those lazy, looking-for-a-cheap-story big-time anchor persons, say I. Yes, all those things and more were provided . . . by volunteers who wanted to do something to help. Some have goods to provide, and some have money. Others have talents and skills, which they came to share with their fellow San Diegans. They coordinated activities for the kids. Sports, coloring, games, face-painting, entertainments. The massages and acupuncture and manicures were gifts to stressed adults, a few minutes of something special from those who had only their skills to offer.

And that’s the real story. The people of this city and this county came together in marvelous ways. They gave their time, their talents, and their labor. They opened their homes, their vehicles, their wallets, and their hearts. They continue to do so, as the evacuees trickle back to their houses . . . or the places they once stood. Fund-raising for the Red Cross and other relief organizations just got underway, and the money is flowing in. Sometimes rushing in, with checks for $50,000 or $100,000 from businesses. But more often the amounts are small and clearly a sacrifice for the givers. We all want to do our bit.

Even the politicians preening at the microphones, some of them with shirt-sleeves rolled up in hardworking-guy-style, seem to be making an effort to be of use. These are, however, many of the same politicians who refused–after the deadly fires of 2003–to fix the broken Fire Department and prepare it for the future.

During the Cedar fires, in which 22 people were killed, the Fire Department didn’t even have enough batteries to power their portable radios. They were understaffed, ill-equipped, and incredibly brave.

Photo by Sean M. Haffey, San Diego Union-Tribune

By mid-2006, with the politicians still refusing to appropriate funds for needed improvements, the Fire Chief resigned in protest. So much for “an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.”

Investment ahead of disaster is provably cheaper than dealing with the aftermath. Because San Diego did pony up money for a “Reverse 911" system, lives were saved lives during the frantic evacuations this week. It should be a lesson for the future. I doubt it will be.

Today, all the news coverage focused on the President’s tour of the disaster area, accompanied by a coterie of supporters. I have mixed feelings about shows of support and consolation, common to all presidents, which may be sincere but which also disrupt what needs to be done. In any case, the teevee cameras followed the politicians tromping through the ashes of the Rancho Bernardo area and lingered on the President as he embraced a local couple in the ruins of their home.

But. Those cameras never showed the long line of cars backed up on the highway because the road leading into Rancho Bernardo was closed off as part of the security always surrounding a president. In those cars were residents permitted to visit their homes for the first time since evacuation, and only for a few minutes to see the damage and retrieve essential medications and papers. There’s still no power or water there.

Anyway, because of the President’s extended photo-op, these victims of the fire ended up sitting in polluted air and 90-degree temperatures for two or three hours. One fed-up driver was taking her 87-year-old mother, who had just recovered from pneumonia, to pick up medication. They had no masks, but had to sit in the car with the windows rolled down because they dared not run the air conditioner. Not with only a quarter-tank of gas left.

Sorry for rambling. It’s been a tough week for everyone here, even though the community spirit has lifted our hearts. But now, in the middle of the night, my thoughts insist on turning to the lonely and forgotten. John Gibbins of the San Diego Union-Tribune caught this picture of a ghostly bobcat, fur singed and paws burnt, making his way through the ashy woodlands.


Sometimes we can’t help, but we can always care.