Camp Fire Aftermath

My Dear Sillies,
   First, an update on Jenny and Joe (last blog post). They've come "full circle," Joe tells me. They're moving into their own apartment--with family nearby--in the same town in which they met and married over 60 years ago.
   "We met in the fifties," he says, "and we're back here now in the teens." Such a clever, sweet man. Our oldest married couple to survive the Paradise Camp Fire: doing great and moving forward.
   I tried to explain about my blog and all. Joe's response was "It was great to hear from you. Thanks for the call." (I so love them!)

   Evacuations were lifted this weekend. All of Paradise was allowed to visit their home-sites for the first time since the terrors of 11/8.
   With her permission, here's my friend Tara sorting through the remains of what was her family's warm loving home. [Note: they had to wear protective gear -- potentially high levels of toxins in the rubble and ash. She told me I should've worn her outfit; it was too small.] Deep gratitude to my friend for allowing us a glimpse into this most intimate experience. 
   I'd been in their home several times. I can't even believe this is that place wherein we shared stories, music, berry pie, and amusement in watching the cat scuffle about.
 
   Although Tara found nothing worth salvaging, she finally slept through the night. The process afforded a sense of closure.
   Other friends have retrieved a few pieces of precious jewelry, porcelain doll parts, a clay teapot made in high school, a Christmas Nativity scene. One couple uncovered a 25 year wedding anniversary ring. It's all very bittersweet, chilling and heartwarming. Surreal.

 ~~~~~~~~~

   I can't be sure, but I do like to believe that generosity is felt more strongly than ever, across our entire region.
   Or maybe I'm appreciating it more. Or maybe it's the holiday spirit. Perhaps, then again, I didn't appreciate it as much before. Whatever the case, we're more readily looking out for each other.
   Upon returning to my car after a grocery run on Sunday, I found this note.

   The fact that a stranger took the time to inform me, wow. I don't look at my tires. A nice man had slowed his car to tell me about the same tire shortly after 11/8. I immediately got air in it, then forgot about the darn thing. (Note to self: Check car tires once in a while.)
   As luck would have it, with note in hand, I saw Les Schwab only yards away.
   But they close at 5p. It was 4:42p.
   "Okay, give me the keys. We'll take a look," the friendly employee said.
   They had plenty of work to do, and they were closing, but a few minutes later Andy greeted me. "Let me show you why I can't fix the tire." Andy walked me through the shop and pointed out a 3-inch long gash in the tire. Not to worry, he'd replace it.
   And then he'd say "You don't owe anything."
   "You're wonderful, Andy."
   I was home by 5p.

   I know, compared to what my local loved ones are going through--a ruptured tire on a car that didn't burn, and that I'm able to get fixed immediately--piddly stuff. How lucky I am!
   Kindness abounds and makes everything easier. That's the point I'm trying to underscore. I know you know this. It's worth remembering, and reminding each other, as much as possible.    


Have a safe, warm week that overflows with kindness.
Love you.

Paradise Lost, Heroism Gained

Dear Sillies,
It's time to say what we say every year: "I can't believe the holidays are here already!" Note: I'm not adding the traditional profanity - this is a family establishment.
I am, however, adding a very sweet dose of inspiration.

   Meet Joe and Jenny. Ssh, they don't know I'm posting this. Neither does my friend, Keith, who took the photo.  But it's worth it. They're a remarkable hearty dose of wit, smarts, love, and pure inspiration. He's 94, and she's 90. (I've teased him about robbing the cradle.) Joe and Jenny hailed from Paradise. He drove them to countless gatherings in Chico, and I had the good fortune of meeting them years ago.
   I was relieved to learn that they'd made it out of the fires in relative ease, and were staying with another extremely kindhearted couple in Chico. So I paid a visit with a small selection of cozies (blanket, socks...)
   Jenny greeted me at the door. "Oh, you didn't have to," she said, donning her typical shy and warm smile.
   Joe approached with the most firm and earnest hug I've ever received - actually, equal in strength to all the other hugs he'd given me.
   "Well, where's your guitar?" he joked. (I don't play guitar, but nearly all of our mutual musical friends do.)

   As you can see from the photo, Joe loves to read. I'd brought him some books that I had, but that are way beyond my level of comprehension. He said he lost 80 books to the Fire.
   Joe had supported my book launch for Woman on the Verge of Paradise, bought, and speedily read the book. He's since attempted to elicit dirt on my (non) sex life every time I'd see him.
   "So, you getting any action these days, Robyn?"
   "Probably a lot less than you, my friend. I can't find a man, Joe. Much less keep one."
   "Lemme tell you the secret to keeping a marriage going. There are two things you gotta do. One, don't get divorced. Two, don't die. I'm doing pretty good at both so far."
   "You're doing amazingly well at both!"

   It's impossible to have known this couple and to NOT believe in "true love." They are just that.
  
   Regarding the Camp Fire, Joe says they'd been through it before. Paradise has had a number of evacuations in the past -- never, of course, anything like the terrors of 11/8. "If I'd have waited 15 minutes longer, we wouldn't have made it. We're much luckier than most."

   I only wanted to tell them how important, and how inspiring, they've been to the entire community. What came out was "I love you, Joe. I love you both."
   "Oh, all the women tell me that."

   Joe and Jenny are missed, but for good reason. They've relocated outside of the area to live with family. I'm hopeful they have a sense of what they've meant to Chico and Paradise. They've forever changed us in the most beautiful of ways. True heroes, this couple. May they be safe and loved for years to come.
  
  

Paradise Lost, Beginning to Say "Goodbye"

How can we start to say "goodbye"
It's too godawful to believe
One merciless inferno
ceded far too much to grieve

When can we start to say "goodbye"
Each day's haze, too thick to clear
Death threats invade the nightly sleep
We're paralyzed by fear

Where do we start to say "goodbye"
Sans your crisp, brisk pine air 
One more slice of Black Bear pie
A final ounce of your down-home care

To whom do we start to say "goodbye"
Endearing senior pairings 
married fifty years or more
like the ones that owned and nurtured my favorite antique store (Treasures of Paradise)
Or the banjo picking cow folk, 
the flag-flailing Trumpeteers
The man who saved his neighbors' homes, asking only for some beers

To the men resembling Santa
if Santa dropped one hundred pounds

The teens labeled "disabled"

who beat me in every Skip-Bo round

But if we start with children 

How can we best explain
Their rooms and schools, all burnt to ash
Not one swing-set remains

 

FACTS ABOUT THE CAMP FIRE:

It lasted from 11/8 to 11/25/18.

It incinerated an area the size of Chicago.

153,335 acres burned

13,972 single-family homes

18,793 structures  

85 identified deaths

296+ unaccounted for; may likely never be identified

52,000 people displaced 
over 90% of Paradise is no longer

                                                        

Honey Run Covered Bridge - before and after 11/8/18. Built in 1886 on the original road that connected Chico and Paradise, it was the last bridge of its kinds in the US. Plans are underway to recreate it, as a memorial to those who perished.

first photo: me in front of Coco Amatrice, 2011

This one "goodbye"
spans miles beyond
the passing of a friend

                          How can we start to say "goodbye"
                             when "goodbye" has no end?