Black feet, black bears, and getting back to normal
Tuesday, July 3, 2012 
Last week was a week I will never forget. A week so surreal, a week so not my normal.
My normal is as quiet as I want it to be, with time to do what I want, what I need, with all of that time punctuated with varying degrees of missing my grandsons.
Not last week, though. Last week my grandsons were at my house, and I was their primary caretaker. The house was blissfully loud—interspersed with occasional loud moments not so blissful, too, I must admit. I had little time to do what I needed for myself, but also no time to miss my grandsons, for they were by my side while their mom and dad attended a conference nearby. Time with Bubby and Mac was the very best part of my not-normal week.
My normal is relatively mild in terms of temperatures. Not so last week. Triple-digit heat, record heat, historically high heat literally never before felt in Colorado Springs marked the temperature gauge in unprecedented fashion. Day after day after day. It’s just heat, some might say. Stay in the house and turn on the air. It's no big deal. In a house—in my house—that has no air conditioning, though, it is a big deal. It’s hot. It’s hell. A hell I didn't want to deal with myself, much less impose upon my grandsons.
And then, well, then there was the Waldo Canyon Fire. The horrific part of the week. The heartbreaking part. The surreal part.
Tuesday evening rush hour, driving with my grandsonsSurreal in that on the west side of my city, hillsides, landmarks, homes were burning. People—families—were evacuated from their homes. Smoke and ash filled the sky, reaching as far as the city’s east side, my side.
Surreal in that every local television station went to 24/7 coverage of the disaster, the devastation. While my grandsons played nearby, I tried to watch. When they slept at night, Jim and I did watch, far into the night, especially on the most horrific day, on Tuesday.
Surreal in that I continually, obsessively checked Facebook, Twitter, email for news on friends and family, their safety and their homes. That I regularly received reports and texts from Megan and Preston as they tried—yet often failed—to enjoy their mountaintop conference and festivities while homes and Megan’s hometown burned within clear and heartbreaking view.
Surreal in that our health department warned residents to stay indoors, with windows shut and air-conditioning on, so as to not breathe in the ash and the soot. Having no air conditioning, we opted for taking the boys to various indoor play areas. We did our best each day to have a good time with them while the west side of our city burned. At night we wrestled with choosing between opening windows to let in cooler air to lower the hellish temps in the boys’ upstairs rooms or keeping the windows closed to avoid the soot and ash we were warned to keep out of our homes, our respiratory systems. Especially respiratory systems with itsy bitsy lungs the likes of Baby Mac’s…or even Bubby’s.
Wednesday afternoon, heading to an indoor play placeSurreal in that access to my mom, my sister, attractions we’d planned to visit with the boys was shut down, impassable for the entire week, as fire raged and firefighters needed to protect the highway, use the highway. That shelters, like refugee camps, were set up around the city for evacuees. That the state governor, the United States president visited to view my city’s disaster and devastation firsthand, to offer support.
We watched each day and each night—as often as we could while still attending to and enjoying our grandsons—as not only local news but national broadcasts revealed burned areas that looked like war zones, yet were neighborhoods I had visited, places friends lived. We and the rest of the city anxiously watched news conferences at 8 a.m. and 4 p.m. each day for updates on the status of the fire and evacuees, the successes of the firefighters.
All this while I and every other resident not in the line of the fire worried about, prayed about, cried about those who were.
All this while my grandsons visited and the hellish hot temperatures continued.
Even after the initial shock and awe of the fire and its horrific trail and toll, strange things, things so very not normal, continued. Expected things like subconsciously searching the sky for new plumes of smoke and endlessly tossing about with others the figures related to homes burned, evacuees remaining, fire containment percentages.
Bubby's soot-covered feetUnexpected things, too. Such as realizing that going barefoot around my house—which my grandsons and I usually do—resulted in black soles thanks to the soot and the ash coating my home despite the miles between the fire and us. Black soles that required me to scrub my grandsons’ little piggies at bath time and scrub my own big piggies before bedtime to remove the grime. And the unexpected sound of packs of coyotes howling as they roamed my neighborhood, of having a black bear amble down my street. The coyotes and the bear, along with elk spotted in the center of town and countless other wild and displaced animals searched for a home that, like the 350 homes of local human residents, burned, is gone.
So strange. So sad.
This week I’m still sad about the displaced animals, the displaced people, the burned homes and trails and landmarks. Yet, this week, I feel a little closer to normal. The air and sky are clear of smoke, the ash and soot have been cleaned from my house. My grandsons have gone home, television coverage of the fires has been reduced to a crawl at the bottom of the screen. The pass to my mom has re-opened. The fire moves ever closer to containment.
I do still scan the sky for new smoke and for rain that would lower the still-hot temps and dampen the still-burning fire. And I make sure to watch the evening news and check #WaldoCanyonFire on Twitter throughout the day. I also continue to be on the lookout for lost and frightened animals in my neighborhood. Overall, though, it’s been relatively easy for me to get back to normal.
I’m fortunate, blessed, and thankful. For many others in my city, getting back to normal hasn’t been so easy. My heart, my thoughts, my prayers go out to them—to those who are still reeling, who must build new homes and new lives, who have yet to create a new normal.
Today's question:
The Waldo Canyon Fire evacuees had mere hours, sometimes less, to gather personal belongings from their homes. What would you grab first—other than people and pets—in the event of evacuation?
Reader Comments (15)
This is so very sad. Nature's fury. My heart goes out to the people who lost their homes. What would I grab? My son,my husband and my purse. Maybe this is a good time to make a survival kit. Who knows?
I am glad you are safe.
Where I live, there are slums near the area and tough politicians' men simply evacuate and destroy certain settlements. When those daily wages' laborers return home, they find nothing there. The lady who works in our apartment complex was devastated in this way.
Life is so transient sometimes and I find myself wishing people would just let go of all things negative and appreciate each day with love.
Hugs, Lisa.
Watching the events unfold in Colorado last week made my heart break as it did when I watched the events caused by the forces of nature in Katrina. From normal to surreal in what seems like a heartbeat. Definitely puts perspective on smaller challenges for the rest of us.
I'm happy things are 'nearly normal' for you this week, although I know for many affected families and animals things are far from normal yet. Hopefully, asap as prayers continue from all over the country.
Thankfully, you're all safe which is what matters the most. Can't fathom going through all of it without A/C and windows closed. Had I known you could have bunked here!
If only a few hours to evacuate, the personal belongings I'd grab would be the family pics, treasured keepsakes from family members, personal paperwork, laptop, cell phone, and charger. Hope I never have to and hope you never do either.
Thoughts still with you Lisa and the rest of Colorado! xxoo
We have numerous family members and friends in Colorado near the fires so we kept tabs on them last week as well. Last year when Hurricane Irene came through, I found out what I'd take - purse, computer, phone, two binders and one picture. The binders contain my grandmother's hand-written recipes and all of the pictures, diplomas, WWII notifications and other family memorabilia entrusted to me by my grandfather. The picture frame contains the purple hearts and other medals awarded to my two uncles who died in WWII. May the fires be extinguished and people who have lost their homes find comfort with family and friends.
When our Pre-evacuation suddenly turned into Evacuate NOW, I was apparently fortunate to get information that my house was only the second house in the still PRE-evacuation mapped area and had bagged and ready to go certain family pictures, Bible and other testaments, vital medicines and a few changes of clothes, put leashes on both dogs and went hysterical trying to corral both cats.
Neighbors believing the incorrect information left on both sides of me and left an awfully lonely area to stay in, on edge. It was a lot like standing, swaying on the edge of a deep cliff, wondering whether the next action would be having someone snatch me back into safety or someone pushing me off the cliff into the abyss. Still shakily trying to get back to "normal". Don't know, yet, exactly what that would be. Thankful, tho', to still be here.
Well, I was one who did have to make the decision of what to bring, and it was an interesting experience. I think especially because we are so technical, what I brought was different than most. Everything is digital, scanned in and stored both in external storage and in the cloud. So, I grabbed that storage (the drobo, which has all our photos and important documents), and three computers (Macbook, Mac mini and iMac). Some clothes, and most importantly, all the dog stuff. And the dog himself. I swear, the dog had the most fun EVER riding in the car, meeting other dogs and cats, staying in new houses, sitting on restaurant patios. Evacuated dog had a blast!
Lisa,
What an unbelieveable experience. Thanks for letting us know that you made it through alright even if it was a harrowing experience.
Take Care,
Marion
Lisa this past week was horrific! I was so scared and upset over all the fires in Colorado. I knew my children and grandchildren were safe in Denver, but the ease of how the fires were starting everywhere made me worry about them. I actually told them to consider making up a :grab and go" evacuation bag to leave in their car.
After 9-11 when things were so uncertain in NYC and the threat of "dirty bombs" was high, we were told to have a "grab and go" bag packed and ready so I gave thought to what I would put in it besides the necessary flashlight, battery powered radio, water bottles, high energy snacks, a couple changes of clothing, can opener, candles and matches, extra medicines, copies of important papers and documents, etc. Anyting one would need in a temporary shelter.
The extras I would bring would be treasured photos and my lap top. I would be sad to see the rest burn, but as long as my family was safe, I wouldn't really care!
I'm so glad things are getting back to a "new normal" there. My heart goes out to all who lost loved ones and their homes!!
I am so glad that you are safe. What a nightmare it has been for Colorado.
If we had to grab and go we would grab both backup drives (all pictures are backed up!) and the cats! Everything else could be replaced. Hope I never have to find out for real.
Glad you are back!
Even though we're miles from the evacuated areas, we discussed what we would take if disaster struck. Like Kate, we'd grab laptops and data storage. I'd also grab as many of the things my mom and grandma made as I could. I can't imagine what those who lost their homes are going through.
So sad! I'm sorry it happened, I'm really sorry it happen while the kids were there. I was thinking about what I would grab and had that converstion with my sister when we were talking about your fire. Honestly my computer was the first thing that came to mind, then my family pictures and quilts and important papers of course.
very surreal--we are experiencing much of the same here in Utah. I actually inhaled an ash one day as I sat watching my grandson playing ball. I coughed and coughed. My furniture has been covered in fine ash coming in through the swamp cooler. It is unbelievable. Glad you are safe.
What you experienced so close to the fire is wrenching and only a fraction of what residents who lost their homes have experienced. Close to you, but far enough away in the mountains, we have already thought of what we'll leave with if we must evacuate. Important papers, tech stuff, cameras, some art work, and my Mother's antique high chair are on the list. I guess after life, there is really not all that much we need to save. So very dry here in CO - I hope each day for rain.
Wow Lisa. Amazing account of you week with the boys and the devastation in your city. Although the fires were on the news every day here in Vegas, as they probably were everywhere, I had no idea about all the challenges you and others had to face. I am just so very happy you and your family are ok!
If I had to leave my home in a hurry, I'd want to take treasured family photos and keepsakes. Everything else could be replaced.
Thanks for sharing this with us Lisa.
How dreadful Lisa to witness nature at one of its worst moments. Pleased you & your family are all safe.
Last night Norman & I were watching the news when suddenly the couch that I was sitting on gentle moved; I turned to Norman and said "that was an earthquake!" Then nature decided it hadn't finished, the earthquake became more intense, I hurriedly got off the couch & went and stood under the doorway, Norman just had to sit. Woof who had being peaceful sleeping on my knee couldn't understand what was happening and had a very startled look on his face. Lucy thankfully slept through it. The quake seemed to last for such a long time, however according to the paper this morning it was only 30 seconds, it could have been a devastating disaster for Wellington as it registered 7.0 on the Richter scale. Thankfully it was deep. There have been no reports of injury.
Earthquakes don't leave you time to gather any possessions, it just happens so quickly, if I did have time I would get together my papers & special mug that Francine once gave me as a birthday present.
I used to answer this question by saying "absolutely nothing." I always thought that there is nothing that I couldn't live without as long as I had my family.
Now I would say, my laptop, my cell phone and its charger, and my purse. I would also take my favorite pair of jeans. They're so hard to replace.
We usually have more time when we have to evacuate for a hurricane. Seriously, I have a couple of file folders with insurance information that I always take with me. We also have to make sure we have proof of residency other than a driver's license. Once martial law is declared, you have to prove you live here to come back.