One minute you’re strutting down a catwalk, the next, it’s all gone up in flames. Feeling blue? Drive an hour away and eat pani puri.
Wait! I can explain everything!
On Friday October 6 I had the opportunity to participate in an event called Catwalk for a Cure. My company was a sponsor and there was a fundraiser lunch and a fashion show. Local companies sent employees to be the models. The event was set up in a big tent next to the Luther Burbank Center for the Arts - our local big beautiful concert venue.
As a model, I had gone to a boutique to get fitted for an outfit. The style was boho. I pictured myself in slim pants and a cool tunic. Instead I somehow ended up in a frilly black dress with a long vest over it and too many accessories. The worst part was the hat. The stylist insisted we all wear a big hat with a big feather. There is a reason you’ve never seen me in a big hat. The outfit aged me 10 years and I looked like an eccentric old lady.
Despite the hours of waiting around and the heat, it was fun. I got to know coworkers I’ve never met in person and enjoyed seeing the other models. There were cancer survivors and great stories. And it really was a bit thrilling to strut down a real runway with energetic music and a cheering crowd.
Three days later it was gone - it had all burned down.
We had gone to bed on a windy Sunday night and woke up the next morning to the alarming news that the flames had swooped down a few miles from us and hundreds of people had evacuated during the night as many homes and businesses burned down.
On Monday Oct. 9 the fires were raging out of control and there weren’t enough firefighters to help.
The way that we got information is a marvel in itself. In an age of many so much communication and so many devices, we were really confused and not sure how to get information.
Greg, Liane and I learned of the fires Monday morning because we had received texts and emails asking if we were OK. Some were locals who woke up earlier than we did but most were from people thousands of miles away who were in later time zones and were following the news already.
Most of our morning was figuring out how to get very current and reliable news about our area. How would we know if and when to evacuate? You listen to local radio and it’s about another area or an update on what’s burned down. You look at fire maps online and you don’t know how current they are. You google “Sonoma County fire” and the first hits are from previous years or you can’t tell the date.
We were all in a state of high alert the entire week. The fire came to Windsor and we could see it burning on the top of the ridge about 2 miles from us. The wind was blowing away from our direction so we were concerned but knew that the chances of the wind changing direction were small. We packed the car with the the most important practical and sentimental things and a few days of clothing and then we all drove to work because it was safer at our offices.
We drove on the 101 freeway with burning logs along the side of the road, passing areas that were completely burned down. You all saw this in the news.
The air was choking. We stayed indoors with the windows closed, darted to the car and kept the windows closed. We had special masks.
The roads were empty. The sky was a strange color.
Most businesses were closed most of the week. It was eerie.
The week was spent tracking coworkers and friends - who lost their home, who had evacuated.
By Saturday, the next weekend, we were tired and emotionally very drained. Greg had an event in San Francisco and I was joining him for the event dinner at the Fairmont Hotel. We left home at 7:30 in the morning. The fires were now east of us - past Napa - and the sky was gray in the distance. As we drove towards the city, the sky got bluer and bluer and the air was clear. We dropped off Greg at his event and I had a few hours to roam San Francisco.
Everything was normal. It was a perfect day. Sunny and 70. Tourists. Shoppers. Beautiful stores open. Cafes. Ice cream. The cable cars clanging. My head was swimming and I was almost dizzy.
I found myself in front of an Indian restaurant. I remembered a well written article in the New York Times just before the fire about a dish called Pani Puri. The article had made me extremely curious and I was dying to try it. And yes, they had it, in this restaurant! They’re little crispy round things filled with chick peas and potatoes and you pour tamarind sauce over them.
Eating pani puri in San Francisco is another world that can make you completely forget all the horrible mess just one hour away.
Are you OK? That’s the common greeting here now. And the answer is the story you tell.
Are things back to normal? That’s the question we are asked by those far away.
There is a new normal.
There are large areas of devastation.
Two co-workers next to me lost their homes, we follow their progress as they look for housing, deal with FEMA, and decide how much to contribute to the GoFundMe pages. Every day we meet new people who lost their homes - in line at the grocery store, the delivery person. At every regular activity we attend we track those in our group who are out of the area because they have no place to live or we welcome back those who lost their home, stayed with relatives an hour away, and now they found a place to stay.
Every lamppost and fence has thank-you messages to first responders. Every store has free or discounted things for those who lost homes. There are opportunities to donate everywhere.
I know that just about everyone has experienced a disaster at some time where they live. One day you're enjoying a fun event, the next day there is a terrible event, you cope and process, then you change location and you can experience the pre-disaster routine life again. But your world has changed, even when you come through it personally unharmed.
