On the Hot Ground

(from 6/26/08)

We're at a hotel, my sister & I & the kids. One step at a time.
All the kitties came back, walking across the embers to find us. Two have gone to the animal shelters, one went home with a family friend. All have burned paws and whiskers, one needs to be treated for smoke inhalation, so we're trying to get emergency vet care for all (I think it's taken care of at this point but I must check again - one more thing for my list.) The ground was still so hot on Monday that the soles of one friend's shoes melted and broke off.

So many friends are showing up every day to help dig out. There have been so many deliveries of food, drinks, clothing, almost more than we can handle. It would seem like quite a party under normal circumstances. Utility, phone, and fire vehicles are still up and down the roads, no power as yet but they're stringing all new wires and having trees cut.

Brother Russell has been camping on the land every night to keep away looters. I'm always shocked to hear that such lowlifes exist but they do and have even stolen parts off of burned cars on the street. F%&#@($(#)!!!! Thanks, Russ. And on his behalf, we've had a port-a-pot delivered. He hasn't showered or shaved in days and doesn't see the point, given the fact that he's up to his neck in ashes all day. My hero. He's had a backhoe delivered by his company, at our disposal for as long as we need it.

Brother Bruce is the press spokesman and de-construction coordinator. He's a contractor, and his network of incredibly loyal friends has been there every day, sifting through the dust, sorting scrap, hauling away debris and burned cars.

Mom is still in So.Cal staying with her sister and dealing with all the legal and insurance issues. At first she was insisting that she come home within a few days but has finally realized (through much pleading from all) that there's just no place for her to go. Normally when a natural disaster strikes, one can usually crash with family. This time, we're all in the same situation.

If you knew our family, you'd understand that it's not just houses we've lost, it's a way of life, really. It's unusual in this country for so many family members to live on the same land but it was somehow working for us. We had family dinners, work days, and each of us took care of little things around the property as much as we could. Yes, we got tired of each other, annoyed, but we always had each other's backs. We are also a family of collectors. My parents were antique dealers, so we grew up appreciating the craftsmanship of antique tables, good upholstery, 19th century porcelain plates hung on the walls in my mother's kitchen, antique dolls in cases. Some of the things were passed down, some collected, but every item was somehow important. Bruce and I have carried on the tradition, becoming pickers and dealers. He's a musician, so he had early guitars and the now famous LP collection, plus his stash of estate jewelry and other treasures for his flea markets. Russell was a collector of coins and militaria (plus quite a stash of guns and ammo that apparently gave the firemen pause.) Luckily for me I deal mostly in textiles and had a store in which to keep them, but I did lose some antique books and a few gorgeous clothing items I'd collected (all my vintage sweaters!) So the amazing friends sifting through the rubble have begun to joke about selling our dust, "A treasure in every scoop!"