The Camp Fire, Nearly One Year Later

Dear Sillies,
   May this find you in good spirits, and looking forward to a fun, yummy Halloween.
   For now, a little detour to share segments of my short story on my experiences jumping in as a volunteer in the Camp Fire's aftermath. A true story. [I've submitted this piece, Good Lies, for publication. Fingers crossed.]
   We're approaching one year since the devastation of 11/8/18. Phenomenal recovery continues. So too does intense sadness and loss, hardship and pain, sickness and death--seemingly unending residue of that monstrous force.

   This scene takes us to the Walmart parking lot, wherein hundreds of volunteers and Camp Fire victims/survivors convened. I'd heard about activity there. With no plan or faith that I could help, I pushed myself to do so. 
   Below, with me, you'll meet Joseph.

                                                internet stock photo
Good Lies --part I.

   "Are you doing okay?" Dumb question.
   The man stood. His face reddened, as he took two even steps towards me then stopped. "Am I doing okay? Am I okay? What the hell do you think lady? What are you like some do-gooder who’s about to tell me I have to leave, right?"
   "Well, I don’t want you out here when it starts to rain."
   "You’re f*cking kidding me! I’m not budging." I see that. "Do you have any idea? Any idea what I’ve been through? I stayed. I stayed for 18 f*ckin hours. I stayed to protect my home in Concow. Not just for me, for my neighbors, for my friends. I stayed and kept hosing it down, the lawns, the roofs, the trucks, everything. Only me and my buddy Dan stayed. What do I get for that? It’s all f*ckin burned! The whole town." He turned his head to his side and spit out a wad of saliva. "My only home. My mama’s home. Now you’re telling me to leave. These people are feeding us and being nice to us. It’s like family here. But I can’t even get FEMA help because I lost my ID in the Fire. And you’re telling me to leave. F*ck that!"
   "You can’t get FEMA help?"
   "No, no ID. You have to have an ID."
   That didn’t seem right. "Can I make a phone call for you?"
   His demeanor lightened. "Yeah."
   "Okay," I extended my hand. "I’m Robyn."
   "I’m Joseph. Hey, I’m sorry. I’m just," he huffed, "It’s been one hell of a year." His eyes welled.
   "I’m sure it has."
   I plopped down on the ground, pulled out my resource list, and called FEMA. Someone answered. She was helpful too. I wrote step-by-step instructions for Joseph, and I gave him my number.
   He said he’d be fine taking it from there.
                           He wouldn't be. Stay tuned. 

Paradise, 6 Months After The Camp Fire

Dear Silly Hearts,

   I held out as long as I could, but upgraded last month. My old fashioned flip-phone kept cutting out. I thus caved and went the way of Android. 

   Please forgive my shaky hands in the 2-min video of Paradise; I'm still learning. We always are, aren't we? Some of us (pointing at self) have steeper curves than others.

   

   It's been six months since the Camp Fire. 

   A main point I'm making, one that's honest yet intensely sad, is that close to 400 (and not 85) people perished. Because every single life is worthy and should not be dismissed, I'd like to dismantle that myth. 

   To explain a bit, the statistic on the number of people unaccounted for had quickly disappeared, after I recorded it (296 or more). There's hush-hush around reports that hundreds of bodies were found huddled together, bodies that weren't identified. (85 is the number of identified, but I've seen claims of 85-88.) All forms of media have gone with this much lower number. It's easier to accept, although, very tragically, not true.  

   However, on a miraculous note, approximately 52,000 people survived. Given the fire so abruptly ravaged a region of land equal to the size of Chicago, this is incredible.

   Everywhere there are signs of sadness and loss, hope and renewal can't be missed.

   We are remarkably resilient, as is Mother Nature.

Go gently, and know that you're loved.

This sweet couple allowed me to post this. Between them is a heart in the fence, which she'd created. I told them that their love is exactly what I went to Paradise to capture.  

My dear young friend, Diego, made and is selling these cards for Camp Fire Relief. If you're interested ($4 each or $10 for 3), please message me at Rawknrobyn@aol.com. I'll take care of postage and send them to you. Thank you.

UGH. I have too much to learn. Sorry, seems you can't watch this...I'll work on it. Til then, be well and safe.