Sunday October 8th, 2017 was a very good
day. My wife had been visiting family and friends in Sweden for a couple of
weeks and would finally return Monday. I’d shopped groceries, cleaned house,
found some nice flowers and was ready for her arrival, for us being together
again. I function well by myself, but with my wife around, I do function a lot
better; that’s how it should be, don’t you agree? I went to bed around 9pm
feeling very good and was looking forward to that initial hug & kiss,
picking her up in Oakland International Airport. At least, that was the plan…
Around 1:00am I was awoken by stuff on our deck
tumbling around loudly. First I thought somebody was out there, but then a
realized it was the wind; I had never heard it so violent before - ever. I
grabbed a flashlight and opened the door to the backyard. The wind was hurling
around in a horrendous way – and then I smelled the intense smoke; but from
where?
I went outside the front of the house. The
streetlights were off; very weird. Looking around the cloud-covered sky, I saw
a reddish hue when looking north-east. Then I realized that it was not reflecting
on low clouds, it was reflecting against a thick layer of smoke – what was
going on?
Back in the house, I woke up our son, who is staying
with us for the time being and gave a short estimation of what was going on. Then
my wife called unexpected; it was now around 1:30. She was sitting in the
airport near Stockholm, waiting to board her flight home. With a shaky voice
she told me that she had just gotten an emergency message on her mobile that
said that our neighborhood and a larger part of Santa Rosa was being evacuated
and we were all asked to leave immediately, ‘due to fire’. It stunned me, as
the thought of ever being evacuated for anything other than a possible
earthquake, was so foreign; the ignorant ‘never here / never us’ syndrome. Then
the phone went dead, as well as all the lights and everything else electrical –
total darkness.
Besides the vicious sounding wind, the sirens of many
emergency vehicles came through; so many loud explosions in the horizon, which
I guessed would be propane-tanks, perhaps – what a war-zone would sound like, I
could only imagine. It smelled like, looked like, felt like and sounded like
parts of Santa Rosa and beyond was burning. It was not just a terrible nightmare
or a bad movie, as it all too quickly became an extreme reality.
With a flashlight I walked down to the corner and
one of our neighbors came out. “What the hell is happening?” we both asked. Then
we continued to one of the major roads going through our neighborhood. Cars in
long lines were heading west, away from what we guessed was a fire – but how big,
how vast, how devastating? We didn’t know, but later it was clear that this was
some unreal, surreal, horrendous and horrific disaster – so unimaginable.
I hurried back to the house, packed a few essentials, grabbed my mobile and charger, wallet as well as documents and passports from our (so-called) fire-safe. My son ran around and did the same; we stuffed the dog and the cat into the car – the cat was not cooperating very well. We both gave the house a last look, still totally in a daze and confused, as we had no idea what was really going on. The only thing we knew for sure was that this was all eerie and utterly surreal.
We backed out of the driveway and took off, acknowledging neighbors evacuating as well. We waved and called out: ‘we are going to be okay…’ more as a feeble wish and hope, having absolutely no idea what the next many hours and days would bring.
I hurried back to the house, packed a few essentials, grabbed my mobile and charger, wallet as well as documents and passports from our (so-called) fire-safe. My son ran around and did the same; we stuffed the dog and the cat into the car – the cat was not cooperating very well. We both gave the house a last look, still totally in a daze and confused, as we had no idea what was really going on. The only thing we knew for sure was that this was all eerie and utterly surreal.
We backed out of the driveway and took off, acknowledging neighbors evacuating as well. We waved and called out: ‘we are going to be okay…’ more as a feeble wish and hope, having absolutely no idea what the next many hours and days would bring.
We slowly made it to Fulton Road and found it overloaded
with traffic heading south; side by side on a one lane road; everybody fleeing
the reddish hue in the sky. Nothing was heading north. We decided to park in
front of our local super-market about a mile from home, facing north-east. The
big parking-lot filled up fast. Were we far enough away from whatever it was
that was burning?
It was around 2:30am by now. My son and the pets were in the backseat, with the pets finally settling down; I had yet to settle down, as I kept staring at the sky that got more and more red. I listened to some of the conversations going on around the cars parked next to us: ‘Many fires in the Coffey Park area… Fountaingrove is gone…’ both just a few miles from our house. ‘We saw a lot of houses burning as we fled…’, ‘I’m not sure our house will make it…’
I rolled up the windows and tried desperately to grasp the reality of all this – could it really be or what was going on? I kept staring at the red sky. After a couple of hours I thought it was becoming less red, or was it just something I imagined, something I hoped for?
At around 7:30am my anxieties got the better of me and told my son that we’d head home. I wanted to know if our house was standing or not. As we turned into our neighborhood I realized the masses of ashes, large pieces of burnt paper and debris falling from the sky. It was still eerily dark, utterly windy and the streets were empty and smoky, very smoky. Only a few cars were left behind by fleeing evacuees. I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing or not; finally, our house seemed okay.
Down the street two of our neighbors were talking; one of them, a retired fire-chief. ‘You didn’t evacuate?’ He shook his head and explained several things about what he saw in the reddish sky, what he could hear and the kind of neighborhood we live in - the firefighters view. He also told me that most evacuations are not mandatory. I felt slightly better, but still in a daze. ‘If things turn bad, would you come and knock on our door, please?’ He nodded and I went home. Before I went inside, I turned the car around, just in case we needed a fast get-away.
No electricity and no gas, there were not many things to do. I tried reading, but it didn’t work – my thoughts were elsewhere. Then I figured that there could still be some hot water left in the water heater, so I took a shower; weird, but I did. Not that it made me feel much better.
From the very start of this horrific morning, we communicated with friends and family, here and in Europe. Our younger son and his wife, living near Sacramento, were following all they could from continuous TV broadcasts. ‘We are okay’ was our message and told them where and what. Our daughter-in-law’s parents lived in Coffey Park and I had texted them earlier. Now they answered that they did not think their house had survived – their home of 29 years burned to the ground that morning, Monday October 9, 2017. It was one of so many many hundreds of homes that went up in flames in Coffey Park and in Fountaingrove, the two hardest hit areas around Santa Rosa. Thousands of other homes and structures in our county (Sonoma) and in several neighboring counties were ravaged by this incredibly devastating fire-storm.
PS: As of today 3,963 residents/homes were lost in Sonoma. 7,776 were partial losses or damaged; estimated total loss around $3 billion. All fires (14 or so) are by today at 100% containment; an incredible job by all first responders.
At noon I left for the airport to pick up my wife. I left in good time, because we had learned, that it was not only the north-east part of Santa Rosa that was burning. Many other areas around our city had been hit and the firefighting was fierce and the many fires were totally out of control as the winds constantly changed direction. I figured a lot of traffic going south so I left early.
My wife had boarded the plane in Sweden, not knowing what was going on, with us, the city, the county and the fire; sitting on the plane for 11 hours of anxiety ridden confusion and angst. When we finally reunited, it was with relief, which quickly turned into sadness as soon as I brought her up to date with what was going on, what was happening to our friends and family. We acknowledged that at least we were safe for now; but that turned utterly unimportant, fast…
Sure we have all been affected by this horrific devastation, this unbelievable wild firestorm, but not to any degree as the thousands of people who lost their homes and business’; something that will take a very long time to deal with.
Our daughter-in-law’s childhood home, her parent’s house burnt to the ground; her grandparent’s house gone. A friend of mine built a beautiful home himself 30 some years ago; burnt down in less than an hour. When my wife went back to work the following Wednesday after she returned from Sweden, she was told that over 120 of her colleagues had lost their homes – and the many stories have no end.
In all fires 41 have died and many more were missing at some point; the ‘missing’ number is now down to 19 - but still.
I cannot comprehend the devastation; cannot fathom the realism of this unbelievable loss. I had to see some of it myself. I tried to understand why I wanted to see it. No, it was not by morbid curiosity, but to better grasp what the hell it is, what it was and then what? It affected me stronger than anything I have faced before in my life. What the hell happened?
My wife called me from work early Wednesday and though I felt safe in our home, still no electricity or gas (who would have the audacity to even care, all compared?) she wanted our son and me to evacuate, yet again – and fast. That’s what she would feel comfortable with, so that’s what we did. We packed up and drove down to friends south of San Francisco, pets and all. After a couple of workdays at the hospital, staying with friends in a safer part of Santa Rosa for sleep and shower, my wife finally joined us.
Friday evening we received a message that we were allowed back into our neighborhood, this time ‘legally’. I told everybody that I wanted to leave early Saturday morning – I felt an urge to get home; I needed to get back – perhaps I could help, whatever...
REBUILD WE WILL
Our story is just one of thousands. We were so lucky that we were not hit. Our story is so insignificant compared to the thousands of people who were not that lucky. I feel ‘survivors-guilt’, as in: why not us? I’m told that it’s rather normal to feel that way – never-the-less.
Driving around Santa Rosa today, constant reminders of this nightmare is seen in burned down structures, charred grass and road-blocks everywhere. We also see huge signs hanging off the freeway bridges: ‘The love in the air is thicker than the smoke’, ‘Thanks to all the first-responders – you are our heroes’, ‘From the ashes we will rise’, ‘Sonoma Strong’... Have we already started to adjust, started to repair, already moved forward to rebuild? I truly trust that we have and that we do.
I have always had the greatest confidence in our ability to adjust to any and most situations of hardship and change. Looking around today, I acknowledge that my trust had not been broken. There is a sense floating around that we will not let this fire-storm win, as it seems to me that it has become very personal, however silly that might sound.
A friend I had communicated with during all this (his house barely escaped) called me Thursday morning; he’s a retired contractor. We have worked together on a couple of major projects on our house, me being the grunt-worker. We had a lot of fun, besides being very efficient with the work we did. He had already received several calls from former clients who had lost their homes – requests for rebuilding; bringing him out of retirement, because he felt that he could not sit there with all his knowledge, his skills and experience, when so many homes had vanished. I signed up immediately as a possible grunt-worker, as I felt that perhaps in some minuscule (naïve) way I could help Santa Rosa get back on its feet, back to the new normal.
Again, my story is just one in thousands – and we were part of the lucky ones. Contemplating the horrific days and nights of this horrendous fire-storm and the devastation it brought along to so many thousands of people, I try to find some reality and a bit of sense to it all. But for the most part I draw blanks, though a few things have come out of this, at least for me.
I have never been one to take things for granted. I have always acknowledged how lucky I have been in life, in the past and present. But I have now realized more than ever that I have slacked concerning the ‘taking for granted’ thing. I had become arrogant, expecting things this and that. But this devastation underlined, that taking things for granted in such a blasé way, is not cool at all; so I am even more thankful now than I’ve ever been.
The rebuilding has begun. People are gathering around, all behind moving forward. Donations of all sorts poured in immediately and soon signs of ‘no more donations, please’ showed up. As of today, approximately 25,000 individuals have donated about $16 million to the victims of the fire. Santa Rosa City has set up programs to help out. The State of California will clean up the debris and hazardous materials from the burnt down structures at no cost; clean up that must be done before rebuilding can begin; and the list is very long.
The human spirit is unique, as we seem to have the urge to move forward, to adjust, after dealing with life-changing events. I think that is one of our most valuable traits. We don’t just sit there and accept defeat; no, we get up and fight back. Of course this is all easy for me to say – now sitting in my home, just feeling some ‘survivor’s guilt’, but I am very ready to help rebuilding when called upon.
Again, all this is not about me to any extent – it’s all about the many thousands who do not sit at home, the thousands of families who now have to adjust and rebuild. I have no idea how they are feeling – but I know that Santa Rosa will rebuild, no doubts about that; have already started. Perhaps becoming an even stronger community? That wouldn’t surprise me at all.
SANTA ROSA: REBUILDING WE ARE
PS: To get some kind of sense of the enormity of the destruction around Santa Rosa, our county and the affected surrounding counties, here is a link that marks all the homes and structures burned to the ground as well as the structures that were damaged. You can move the map around, zoom in and out by scrolling; you get the idea. Studying this map, you quickly acknowledge the atrociousness of this fire-storm. Under ‘Bookmarks’ you can go to specific areas and fires (by name)… It’s an eerie map to look at – as it is all too real, every single dot telling a horrific story…
Click here: MAP
It was around 2:30am by now. My son and the pets were in the backseat, with the pets finally settling down; I had yet to settle down, as I kept staring at the sky that got more and more red. I listened to some of the conversations going on around the cars parked next to us: ‘Many fires in the Coffey Park area… Fountaingrove is gone…’ both just a few miles from our house. ‘We saw a lot of houses burning as we fled…’, ‘I’m not sure our house will make it…’
I rolled up the windows and tried desperately to grasp the reality of all this – could it really be or what was going on? I kept staring at the red sky. After a couple of hours I thought it was becoming less red, or was it just something I imagined, something I hoped for?
At around 7:30am my anxieties got the better of me and told my son that we’d head home. I wanted to know if our house was standing or not. As we turned into our neighborhood I realized the masses of ashes, large pieces of burnt paper and debris falling from the sky. It was still eerily dark, utterly windy and the streets were empty and smoky, very smoky. Only a few cars were left behind by fleeing evacuees. I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing or not; finally, our house seemed okay.
Down the street two of our neighbors were talking; one of them, a retired fire-chief. ‘You didn’t evacuate?’ He shook his head and explained several things about what he saw in the reddish sky, what he could hear and the kind of neighborhood we live in - the firefighters view. He also told me that most evacuations are not mandatory. I felt slightly better, but still in a daze. ‘If things turn bad, would you come and knock on our door, please?’ He nodded and I went home. Before I went inside, I turned the car around, just in case we needed a fast get-away.
No electricity and no gas, there were not many things to do. I tried reading, but it didn’t work – my thoughts were elsewhere. Then I figured that there could still be some hot water left in the water heater, so I took a shower; weird, but I did. Not that it made me feel much better.
From the very start of this horrific morning, we communicated with friends and family, here and in Europe. Our younger son and his wife, living near Sacramento, were following all they could from continuous TV broadcasts. ‘We are okay’ was our message and told them where and what. Our daughter-in-law’s parents lived in Coffey Park and I had texted them earlier. Now they answered that they did not think their house had survived – their home of 29 years burned to the ground that morning, Monday October 9, 2017. It was one of so many many hundreds of homes that went up in flames in Coffey Park and in Fountaingrove, the two hardest hit areas around Santa Rosa. Thousands of other homes and structures in our county (Sonoma) and in several neighboring counties were ravaged by this incredibly devastating fire-storm.
PS: As of today 3,963 residents/homes were lost in Sonoma. 7,776 were partial losses or damaged; estimated total loss around $3 billion. All fires (14 or so) are by today at 100% containment; an incredible job by all first responders.
At noon I left for the airport to pick up my wife. I left in good time, because we had learned, that it was not only the north-east part of Santa Rosa that was burning. Many other areas around our city had been hit and the firefighting was fierce and the many fires were totally out of control as the winds constantly changed direction. I figured a lot of traffic going south so I left early.
My wife had boarded the plane in Sweden, not knowing what was going on, with us, the city, the county and the fire; sitting on the plane for 11 hours of anxiety ridden confusion and angst. When we finally reunited, it was with relief, which quickly turned into sadness as soon as I brought her up to date with what was going on, what was happening to our friends and family. We acknowledged that at least we were safe for now; but that turned utterly unimportant, fast…
Sure we have all been affected by this horrific devastation, this unbelievable wild firestorm, but not to any degree as the thousands of people who lost their homes and business’; something that will take a very long time to deal with.
Our daughter-in-law’s childhood home, her parent’s house burnt to the ground; her grandparent’s house gone. A friend of mine built a beautiful home himself 30 some years ago; burnt down in less than an hour. When my wife went back to work the following Wednesday after she returned from Sweden, she was told that over 120 of her colleagues had lost their homes – and the many stories have no end.
In all fires 41 have died and many more were missing at some point; the ‘missing’ number is now down to 19 - but still.
I cannot comprehend the devastation; cannot fathom the realism of this unbelievable loss. I had to see some of it myself. I tried to understand why I wanted to see it. No, it was not by morbid curiosity, but to better grasp what the hell it is, what it was and then what? It affected me stronger than anything I have faced before in my life. What the hell happened?
My wife called me from work early Wednesday and though I felt safe in our home, still no electricity or gas (who would have the audacity to even care, all compared?) she wanted our son and me to evacuate, yet again – and fast. That’s what she would feel comfortable with, so that’s what we did. We packed up and drove down to friends south of San Francisco, pets and all. After a couple of workdays at the hospital, staying with friends in a safer part of Santa Rosa for sleep and shower, my wife finally joined us.
Friday evening we received a message that we were allowed back into our neighborhood, this time ‘legally’. I told everybody that I wanted to leave early Saturday morning – I felt an urge to get home; I needed to get back – perhaps I could help, whatever...
REBUILD WE WILL
Our story is just one of thousands. We were so lucky that we were not hit. Our story is so insignificant compared to the thousands of people who were not that lucky. I feel ‘survivors-guilt’, as in: why not us? I’m told that it’s rather normal to feel that way – never-the-less.
Driving around Santa Rosa today, constant reminders of this nightmare is seen in burned down structures, charred grass and road-blocks everywhere. We also see huge signs hanging off the freeway bridges: ‘The love in the air is thicker than the smoke’, ‘Thanks to all the first-responders – you are our heroes’, ‘From the ashes we will rise’, ‘Sonoma Strong’... Have we already started to adjust, started to repair, already moved forward to rebuild? I truly trust that we have and that we do.
I have always had the greatest confidence in our ability to adjust to any and most situations of hardship and change. Looking around today, I acknowledge that my trust had not been broken. There is a sense floating around that we will not let this fire-storm win, as it seems to me that it has become very personal, however silly that might sound.
A friend I had communicated with during all this (his house barely escaped) called me Thursday morning; he’s a retired contractor. We have worked together on a couple of major projects on our house, me being the grunt-worker. We had a lot of fun, besides being very efficient with the work we did. He had already received several calls from former clients who had lost their homes – requests for rebuilding; bringing him out of retirement, because he felt that he could not sit there with all his knowledge, his skills and experience, when so many homes had vanished. I signed up immediately as a possible grunt-worker, as I felt that perhaps in some minuscule (naïve) way I could help Santa Rosa get back on its feet, back to the new normal.
Again, my story is just one in thousands – and we were part of the lucky ones. Contemplating the horrific days and nights of this horrendous fire-storm and the devastation it brought along to so many thousands of people, I try to find some reality and a bit of sense to it all. But for the most part I draw blanks, though a few things have come out of this, at least for me.
I have never been one to take things for granted. I have always acknowledged how lucky I have been in life, in the past and present. But I have now realized more than ever that I have slacked concerning the ‘taking for granted’ thing. I had become arrogant, expecting things this and that. But this devastation underlined, that taking things for granted in such a blasé way, is not cool at all; so I am even more thankful now than I’ve ever been.
The rebuilding has begun. People are gathering around, all behind moving forward. Donations of all sorts poured in immediately and soon signs of ‘no more donations, please’ showed up. As of today, approximately 25,000 individuals have donated about $16 million to the victims of the fire. Santa Rosa City has set up programs to help out. The State of California will clean up the debris and hazardous materials from the burnt down structures at no cost; clean up that must be done before rebuilding can begin; and the list is very long.
The human spirit is unique, as we seem to have the urge to move forward, to adjust, after dealing with life-changing events. I think that is one of our most valuable traits. We don’t just sit there and accept defeat; no, we get up and fight back. Of course this is all easy for me to say – now sitting in my home, just feeling some ‘survivor’s guilt’, but I am very ready to help rebuilding when called upon.
Again, all this is not about me to any extent – it’s all about the many thousands who do not sit at home, the thousands of families who now have to adjust and rebuild. I have no idea how they are feeling – but I know that Santa Rosa will rebuild, no doubts about that; have already started. Perhaps becoming an even stronger community? That wouldn’t surprise me at all.
SANTA ROSA: REBUILDING WE ARE
PS: To get some kind of sense of the enormity of the destruction around Santa Rosa, our county and the affected surrounding counties, here is a link that marks all the homes and structures burned to the ground as well as the structures that were damaged. You can move the map around, zoom in and out by scrolling; you get the idea. Studying this map, you quickly acknowledge the atrociousness of this fire-storm. Under ‘Bookmarks’ you can go to specific areas and fires (by name)… It’s an eerie map to look at – as it is all too real, every single dot telling a horrific story…
Click here: MAP
