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When your home goes up in smoke


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I’ve spent the last five years writing about the importance of home and now mine is under siege. We've got fires to the north and fires to the south, and we're about to see a whole new wave of displaced Californians.  
In Butte County, over 27,000 residents watched as the town of Paradise burned.  Flames fanned by the Santa Ana winds have already destroyed some 75,00o homes near Los Angeles.  Where will all these people go? 
This is the worst fire season in our state's entire history.  Disasters like this only widen the income gap, knocking a lot more people to their knees. 
To make matters worse, a United Nations expert on housing just branded California's treatment of the homeless "cruel and inhuman."  Investigator Leilani Farha visited San Francisco, Oakland and Berkeley on a world tour of homeless enclaves in Belgrade, Buenos Aires, Delhi, Lisbon, Mexico City, Mumbai and Santiago. She chastised Californians for denying the homeless population access to clean water, basic sanitation, health services and other necessities.  A growing portion of our homeless have been priced out of their apartments by the tech boom. Apparently they'd be better off in some Third World countries than in our state which has the world's 6th largest GDP.  
Now forest fires are about to displace more residents and to make life grim for everyone.  With the Campfire to the north, and the Woolsey fire to the south, it's been a dark, apocalyptic week. One that led a friend to say,
"Welcome to Blade Runner.  Californians are now living in a sci-fi future where the pavement is covered in human feces and there is no decent air to breathe."
The homeless suffer most in fire season.  How can they possibly follow the EPA's advice to crank up the air purifier and stay indoors?  Want to know how bad it is for them? Read this  report from The Atlantic 
Still, bad air affects everyone.  And it's time to get real. We're paying the price for climate deniers everywhere.
Let's face it. Californians are no longer living in the Golden State. We’re facing the full-blown rage of Mother Nature. Our skies are grey,  our forests charred.  This is no longer the land of sunlight, where people sit outdoors and enjoy the breeze. Last fire season, those of us in the Bay area huddled inside for a few days, waiting for the air to clear.
This year, we're going be hunkered down for several weeks.  In 2019, what'll it be?  Three months or more? How long before this black ash falls for the best part of the year? 
My little town, home to  runners, trail riders and long-distance bikers, has long been an outdoor mecca.  Now it's in the process of shutting down. Our doors are caulked, our windows shuttered, our  playgrounds closed. When we go to the market, we wear face masks and walk through air as toxic as Beijing’s.
So much for the California dream.
From my kitchen, I usually see Mt. Tam, presiding over the vast green valley like a god.  Today it is obscured by a thick brown haze.
Before the fires, I’d head up into these hills each day to commune with ancient redwoods.  Now my body aches from lack of exercise.  This week, my cat lost her meow from spending too much time out of doors.  I'm worried, too, about the wildlife.  What effect does this  smoke have on coyotes, skunks and rabbits? On birds and bears? 
Meanwhile friends in Napa, Sonoma and Santa Rosa, are suffering from PTSD. In 2017, these folks faced a rash of deadly wildfires that decimated the community.  But bumper stickers and signs in store windows proclaimed, "The only thing stronger than the smoke on the ground is  the love in the air."  Yes, people are resilient. But how much can they take?  As fires burn to the north, pushing the EPA index close to 400, one friend has the shakes, another battles asthma triggered by a new blanket of  ash. 
When I’m asked, “Why is home so important?” I say, “Because it contains everyone and everything you cherish.   And it's the buffer between you and the chaos of the outside world.”  As I'm writing this, my two air purifiers, on high for the past eight days, are growing less effective. I sit in my living room, my inhaler close at hand, and taste the acrid smoke, wondering what happened to my sanctuary.  
What can we do to keep our homes and our communities  safe? And how can we help those who are the most severely affected by the blaze?

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Comments

  1. Prayers out to California from the midst of the first winter snowstorm in the Hudson Valley-- 8 inches and mounting.

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