The past few days I went back in time, thinking about those memories as one of my volunteers (Bryanna) shared with us that her sister-in-law lives in Weeds, California...
And on Monday, the Boles wildfire swept through that town as people grabbed their kids and simply ran...
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| Devastation in the city of Weeds, CA from Calfires website |
During the various conversations back and forth, Bryanna mentioned it was 'devastating' and I simply said, "Yes, as a kid we had a fire so I know what you mean when you say it is devastating...."
I beg your indulgence here, but allow me to share what it feels like as a young child...
Nothing strange or ordinary that day... I went to school and it was a normal day... As the school bus left me off at the stop, a fire engine whizzed by followed by a second one... I am now 56 years old and I can remember this as vividly now as that day... I remember thinking to myself, "I wonder what it looks like to see a fire up close" for my mother despised 'gawkers' as she called them... Folks that rushed to see fires, traffic accidents, etc. and it was forbidden in my house to do such 'low life' stuff...
As I walked home and came around the bend out of the trees which lined both sides of the dirt and graveled road, I became acutely aware of the smell of smoke and hearing crackling of some intensity... Maybe my steps slowed, but if they did not, it felt like they did... We lived in a mobile home at the time and my 'home' was being sprayed by that same fire engine that had whizzed by me just 15 minutes or more before...
As a youngster, my first thoughts were probably shock, but as an old person, I still can mentally feel that feeling of guilt - like somehow, some way I had caused that fire by that idle thought that had passed through my head in a random fashion... The front of the mobile home had all of the windows busted out (or broken out) by the fire, and there were bright yellow and flames still to be seen inside... People were running around our yard and the next few yards... To one side, my mother stood alone and was sobbing those deep, hard, can't stop hiccuping cries...
My feet found their way eventually to her side, and I was SO afraid she'd look into my face and see that I was the reason this horrible thing was going on in my family... I kept my eyes down to the ground and just prayed my guilt was not written all over my face...
That night we spent it in some stranger's place, rolled up in blankets that did not smell nice nor like ours... The floor was hard, but it was somewhere to sleep... The next day we 'moved' into a strange apartment over top of a store and it too did not smell like home... I remember the place had roaches and weeks later, I would wake up in fear that they were crawling over me in my sleep (and usually were)...
The next few weeks were a blur in my mind... I do remember countless trips to our old home and the smell is still the strongest... We'd take our trash cans and dig through the mess, trying to find anything of value to salvage... My mother had just cleaned all of the paneling in the mobile home with Liquid Gold in anticipation of the upcoming Christmas holiday - but the heat inside the mobile home had caused all of that to mix into the smoke... Everything just stank of burnt, burnt, burnt....
The front of the mobile home was gutted - apparently the water heater had exploded as I later learned... My mother had cooked dinner and realized she was missing something for the soup, got into the car and left... Then worried if she had turned off the soup pot and gone back, rechecked the stove and assured she was just being a worry wart, locked the door and went onto to the store... Shortly after she left, the tank had exploded and the firemen were there when she got back and I got home from school... Luckily for her, she was not there when it exploded... I am reminded of this any time I am cooking and realize I am missing a spice or something...
From midway to the end of the mobile home, it was just all smoke damage... I can still see opening a drawer and where something was on the top, it was laden with a brownish, sticky film... Anything below it was the original color, unless a shoulder or cuff was sticking out... With our garbage cans, we hauled everything we owned to the laundromat and did countless loads of laundry, for the discoloration and stickiness did not readily come off in the first washing...
I was a book reader as a kid - any book of mine was covered in this brownish coloring, the pages were stained brown... And even if you could open the book then get engrossed in the story, the smell would float up from the book and you would relive the fire day all over again... Anything I had that could not be washed and/or cleaned was thrown away... Gone were my cherished Barbie dolls and their clothes... I didn't have a lot of anything because we weren't wealthy or even comfortable, but every little bit of loss felt large and great to me...
I remember sitting for hours at a trash can with a toothbrush... My mother's china set was delicate and with lots of nooks and crannies... Some nasty cleaners were poured into the trash can with the caustic smell of bleach flooding your nose... Grab a coffee cup - scrub that handle really well and remove the brown yuck... Rinse it in the bucket and examine it... No? You didn't get all that brown yuck off?.. Dip your toothbrush and work at it again... I wasn't allowed to touch that china on a usual day and we only pulled it out at the holidays to use, but as a child, they found something to keep my busy and out of their way as they dealt with the catastrophic effects of the fire...
Endless trips to the laundromat... Trips back to our home that was black and in pieces... And at night? Those damned roaches that gave me nightmares... Our move had put me on a new bus route and the teasing of new kids were brutal... They would tell the bus driver that I smelled and refused to sit aside of me... I am sure I did smell - everything that we did manage to save from our home had an odd smell for months afterwards...
At the time, my mother wore what was called a 'car coat'... I don't even know if they still make them or they are fashionable... It had been to the cleaners several times and she really liked that coat... Always said it was the only comfortable coat to own and wear, especially when climbing in and out of the car running errands... I never really understood the attachment she had to it, but even a year or two later, if she wore it and there was a bit of dampness to the air, the coat would have an odd odor to it...
My mother was a major crafter... The day of the fire she had just finished knitting the second sleeve of a lavender-colored sweater for herself... It had taken her months to make it for it had cables down the front of both sides... Up the front on each edge and around the collar, there was white Angora wool... Small needles and as I watched her work on it, I thought she'd never get it done!... Tedious and time consuming... Later she told me she had indeed finished the sleeve that morning and had sewn it all together, then started dinner. She had draped it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs, intending to wash and block it after dinner...
After the fire, it was a wreck... Some pieces had flown into the wool (hot metal pieces?) and burnt holes in a random fashion... The white Angoura was a dirty, muddy color... Water from putting out the fire had been sprayed onto it and one side was pulled out of shape... To this day, I remember my mother crying all over again when she saw it... Put it out on a lawn chair to dry and later in the fire clean-up, carefully packed it in a zip lock bag... She kept that bag for years until one day threw it away... And never, ever knitted again... Still crocheted and did other crafts like crazy, but never knitted again...
These are the memories of a kid whose home was pretty much destroyed... Over 45 years later, it does not take much for me to remember the sights, sounds and smells... And if you have read this far, you have the ability now to see what the folks of Weeds will go through, especially the kids... One day their lives are normal, and the next day? Everything is turned upside down and never to be the same again.
This is what remains of the home of Bryanna's sister-in-law in Weeds, CA... Everything is gone, they had no insurance... The home they were raised in and then later lived in for over 30 years is a pile of ashes... Bryanna has a 2 1/2 year old nephew now living with his family in an evacuation center... They have not found their pet cats yet - the fire struck so hard and so fast, they left the doors open and just prayed the cats got out...
The shelters in that area are begging for relief supplies and at TLC, we have started gathering donations not only for pets but for humans as well...
On Saturday afternoon/evening (9/20/14), Bryanna is going to make the drive to Weeds in a rented cargo van or truck with whatever we have gathered... Donations are being accepted right now at the rescue shop (1555 Simi Valley Town Center, #587) through Saturday at noon.
There is GoFundMe website up to fund the cargo van rental - anything extra will go directly to these folks as well. We have also started gathering pet supplies needed by the shelters and sanctuaries that are housing the pets that are coming in.
Red Cross is only accepting cash donations for the families, but as I heard this, I wondered if you lost your car in the fire, how are you even going to get to the stores (if not burned) to start replacing the things you and your children need?
Last night, I sat and looked around in my life to see what would give the most joy and comfort to these folks at this time in their life... This is what I came up with and I am sure there are other things you can think of:
- Gift cards for Taco Bell, Subway and McDonald's - the nationwide chains I found online that have locations in Weeds
- Teddy bears, puzzles, books, games and toys for the kids
- "Comfort" blankees for the little ones
- Toiletry items for both men and women
- The Catholic church burned to the ground in Weeds and in times like this, I am sure folks will find comfort in spiritual items
I am absolutely sure anything you can donate would be greatly appreciated by the citizens of Weeds. Feel free to contact me directly at tinylovingcanine@aol.com if you have any questions or suggestions.
Sending prayers to the citizens of Weed,
Sincerely,
Linda Nelson, Director, TLC
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Other resources on this tragedy:
- Boles Fire roars through Weeds, burning homes, forces evacuations
- Fast moving wildfire the most horrible thing to ever hit Weed
- Northern California wildfire claims 100 structures, forces closing of I-5
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