As another wildfire rages out of control - WE reach out to YOU

As another wildfire rages out of control near Fort Collins, my heart breaks for those who lost homes and particularly those who lost loved ones.  At 36,930 acres and zero percent containment, this fire is a nasty one.  An ‘act of God’ sparked this blaze in the form of a random lightning bolt.  Extreme dryness coupled with high winds is the perfect breeding ground for fire.  I didn’t sleep well, thoughts of these poor folks filling my mind, knowing some of what they are experiencing, only imagining more.  Tossing and turning throughout the night, I thought of what I want to say to them and those who love them.  I wish I could shield them from the inevitable roller coaster ride that results from life chewing us up and spitting us out.   Here is what I want to say:

To those affected by the High Park Fire – those who have lost loved ones, animals and homes, or still wonder what you lost as you attempt to gather the fragments of information that are beginning to surface – our thoughts are with you. 

There are no words that are adequate.  I am sorry.  It sucks.  It’s horrific.  It’s all of that and more.  You are in the midst of it – with this fire still raging out of control and no end in site.  Many of you don’t know the status of your homes, property or animals you either couldn’t return for or were forced to leave behind.  We feel your pain.  We know the anguish. We wince as we read the news, see the pictures and smell the smoke that drifts even as far south as we are.  We understand.  We were there – and now we are further down this life-altering path.  We aren’t far enough along to have forgotten anything – and truthfully – none of us will ever forget.  We will remember that day forever.  We will remember the sounds, smells and how it felt.  The moments of evacuation – or of being unable to return to collect any belongings – will be etched in our minds forever.  The terror, the bewilderment, the not knowing, then the knowing, we remember it all.  We wish you didn’t have to go through any of this. 

You have joined a club that you never wanted to join.  Your roller coaster ride has just begun – and won’t be over for a while.  We are still on ours.  After the smoke clears and the dust settles a bit, you will still be riding the ride.  You will be dealing with your insurance companies and learning details you never ever wanted to know.  You will be asked to walk from room to room in your mind to make lists of everything you ever owned.  You will be tired – and you will get more tired.  You will wonder if you can continue on.  You will question everything.  You will wonder why, is there a God, what did you do wrong, how could this happen?  You will not want to believe it.  You will begin the mourning process.  Hopefully, you will rally together as neighbors to support each other and realize you aren’t alone.  You will understand each other, as no one else really will.  You will embrace those who were strangers previously and they will become something deeper than friends.  You will be grateful to be alive but pissed beyond belief. 

I hope you can let yourself have all of it, be all of it, and experience all of it.  There is no “right” way to walk through this.  Some of you will pop up more quickly, returning to life and moving on in ways – yet never forgetting.  Others will take longer.  Some will choose to close a chapter of your life, move to the city, or somewhere else.  Others will have no idea what direction to go.  I hope you can let yourself have whatever reactions you have and feel whatever emotions you experience.  You may be terrified, angry, depressed, devastated, detached, or dejected.  You may be all of those things in a 15-minute period.  Some days you will see the light at the end of the tunnel, and others it will be black as night.  Let it be.  Let yourself be. 

The land will take a while to heal – can you let yourself take as long?

I speak to those whose hearts take longer to heal.  Let it take what it takes.  Don’t try to rush through it.  Don’t compare yourself to how someone else is doing.  Don’t judge or make yourself wrong for anything.  Surround yourself with people who will let you be however and whoever you need to be.  Don’t waste your time with those who don’t get it.  Life is too short for that. 

Some more suggestions:

1.     Don’t make any rash decisions – you will be raw for a while.  Save the major decisions for a little further down the path.  Give yourself a little time to breathe.

2.     Get support – both professional and personal.  Allow your community to support you.  Take advantage of resources that are offered.  Seek counseling.  There is nothing wrong with needing help.

3.     Make lists of everything.  Carry a notebook everywhere you go.  Write down thoughts you have, things to-do, anything that comes to mind.  Write down all the people who offer to assist.  Many people will offer many things in the beginning and you will NOT remember who said what.  You will continue to need things, support, time and maybe even money later on.  You probably won’t want a lot right away.  Don’t turn people away – write it down so you can revisit later.  Tell them you will get back to them at some point.  And then do that. 

4.     Pace yourself.  You will be quite tired in a way you have never experienced before.  There is nothing wrong with you – your system is in overload.  This is normal. 

5.     Try to sleep.  This is a tough one – but rest when you can. 

6.     Attempt to settle as soon as possible in a place where you can unwind.  If you are truly comfortable in a friend’s spare bedroom, this is fine but often no matter how lovely our friends are, eventually you will need your own space. 

7.     Find an outlet – whether it is exercise, going to movies, reading – or like for me – writing.  I started writing 6 days after our fire and haven’t stopped since.  Sixty-thousand words later, I still have more to say.  If this is your thing, let yourself do it.  Get the thoughts out there.  Share your pain.  I promise, it helps.

8.     Expect that people in their well-meaning ways will say a lot of tings that don’t seem so supportive.  Give this list to your friends if it helps.  Bring humor (when you are ready) to deal with the silly things that come out of people’s mouths.  Some of those will be:

a.     “Well at least you _______ (fill in the blank).”  At least you got out alive, at least you got your dogs, at least you have your health….  Just breathe when someone begins a sentence this way and move on.  You will hear it a lot.  It is annoying – and it will keep happening.   (I have blogged extensively on this one in particular so you can read more about that at www.walkingthroughfire.com Look at June 11th’s entry.

b.     “Well you had insurance, didn’t you?”  This question can leave you feeling that the asker has no concept of the magnanimity of what you are now dealing with.  And they don’t.  They can’t.  Unless someone has gone though this, they have no idea.  It’s not like a fender bender where you can put your house in the shop and come back to find it good as new. 

c.      “It must be so freeing to not have any stuff.” Or some variation of this…  I was told I would hear this – and I have, multiple times.  Often, it comes in the form of musings that seem to occur in front of you.  People are attempting to look for the silver lining.  Kindly ask them not to do that right now, for you.  You will find your own silver lining in your own damn time.  You do not need to be told.  And, no, it isn’t really that freeing.

d.     The question, “How are you?”  This is a tough one.  It’s what we humans ask each other all the time and most of the time, we don’t really mean it and certainly don’t want to know.  I have asked my people to skip this question entirely and get right to the point. 

The truth is people don’t know what to say, what to do, or how to help – and most people genuinely want to contribute something.  Mostly they mean all the above with kindness in their heart, it’s just that they can be clueless at times.  Have people with whom you can really unwind and let go.  Bitch about what you need to bitch about.  Vent when you need to.  Scream, yell and cry at whim. 

9.     Say YES to support. And, keep saying yes, over and over and over again.  You will need help.  You will want help, even if you don’t want it now.  Mostly, let people love you.  Let them contribute to you.  They really really want to. 

Just as those who walked through previous fires have been (and still are) there for us, we are here for you.  Reach out if you want, we will answer.  We want you to know that one day, you will smile again.  Just not right now. 

With love in my heart, tears in my eyes and sadness in my soul,

Kristen Moeller

waitingforjack@gmail.com

North Fork Fire, March 26^th 2012

My Shitter Overflowith

New goals should be clearly set and worked toward, as this is the beginning of a nine-year cycle. It is best not to dwell on the past at this time. This will be fairly easy for you to do because most of the problems and disappointments of the past will tend to disappear, leaving the way open for these new challenges. This is a great time; use it to its full advantage! It holds the promise of an exciting new adventure, with life taking on new challenges that pave the way for the next cycle of nine years in your life. This is a time to clarify your goals and to act on them. Hard work may be necessary to get a new venture moving.

From a reading, describing the end of 2011 and what’s to come… Hmmmm.   An exciting new adventure.  Yes, I can see that.  New challenges, check!  Clarifying my goals.  Yes.  Hard work.  Fer shure. 

Most of the problems and disappointments from the past have disappeared - in a fiery maelstrom.  So, yes, it's true, I am not dwelling on those things.  Don’t even remember what they were.  And, most days, I am doing “well”.  And then there are those moments…  You know “those” moments?  The ones that take you to your knees, that leave you unsure if you will crack open on the spot and not “crack open” in the seemingly good way but in the way where your psyche may actually fold in on itself and you may just die right there?  Those moments.  I danced on the verge of a few of these moments yesterday. 

Let me be clear, I absolutely adore Flame.  Living in her is lovely.  It is also challenging, small for two people and two big dogs and a major adjustment.  And, I would rather be living here than any of the other options we have at this moment.  Come snowfall, this will probably be different but we aren’t there yet.  We are getting our systems in order.  Internet still needs to be run off the generator which can be a bit of a drag.  Upgrading this system is a top priority on David’s list.  We have the water situation mostly handled as we have a larger generator, which can support the well pump.  The dog fence is operational – and I will talk about that in a minute.  The biggest “to be handled” issue is the shitter.  We topped out on the storage capacity of the shitter on Sunday morning.  We knew it was inevitable yet there didn’t seem to be a gauge anywhere.  They way we discovered we were at capacity was it just wouldn’t go down…  Unable to locate the proper “black storage tank” in time, we were at the mercy of the local septic pump-out company.  Fortunately it was only one and a half days of doing our business in the wild.  I absolutely love the freedom of living so far away from people that I can pee anywhere I damn well like.  Doing my other business, not so much.  Digging holes where the dogs won’t go scavenging and the entire experience is not on my bucket list.  Shirley Septic saved the day and bought us some more time to get this essential system up and running.  I found myself wanting to make jokes with the gentle man whose business it is to remove other people’s business.  He sees it all the time.  I, on the other hand, don’t usually shoot the shit while watching my shit empty into a bucket.  It was a bit awkward to say the least.  He was a pro so I rose to the occasion and talked shop with him. 

You would think that my mood would be drastically improved after all my shit was removed!  And, I was quite grateful.  The early summer day was beautiful and I got caught up with more paperwork then I have in months.  Being in the sweet space of Flame felt warm and supportive for checking items off my ever-growing to-do list.  Once again, I must say, I thought I knew what “busy” was before.  Hah!  I took breaks during the day to begin the training of the dogs on their new fence, and that’s when I began dancing on the edge of my angst and anguish. 

On the flat areas of our land (of which there are very few) and on a couple of the hillside areas, grass is coming up in patches and clumps.  It looks lovely, the green against the stark black.  It is a reminder of the regenerative power of nature; a sign of hope.  David lay out the invisible fence in a circle of a couple acres vs. the double that size these ranging dogs had before.  We are keeping the dogs away from the future building site so we won’t have to worry about them getting in the way of construction and its hazards.  Now, they have the flat area where Flame sits and a few hillsides around the property.  I began my trek around the fence to place the flags and weight it down with rocks.  As I went, I trudged through ash.  As I picked up rocks, my hands darkened.  As I brushed against trees, my clothes were left striped.  As I hiked, my once pink Keens (yes, I did it again) were left coated and my feet blackened.  Then, it was time to bring the dogs through.  One at a time, I led them on this route and watched them get coated with zebra stripes as well.  Grey socks growing on their precious feet.  I had already been picking black sooty sap off their skin, which yanks their hair and seems to create bald spots.  Watching my babies get coated in this greasy crap triggered anger so deep that it began to darken my sky and choke my air supply. 

We choose to live here; they cannot avoid this mess.  These dogs are high energy and need space to move.  Yes, we could keep them confined to a tiny area then always take them off the property for exercise.  But there is no real “clean” area on our 37 acres.  Flame’s sweet interior is beginning to take on a grey tinge as well.   Defeated after the initial training, I scrubbed them as best I could with baby wipes.  Too caked myself for anything other than a major wash down, I took them off the property and down the road for our usual hike.  However, nothing is “usual” around here anymore.  We keep them closer by as we don’t know what type of construction vehicle may try to pass on our narrow roads.  Also, much of the road crosses through burn area which is just more of the same with it’s own brand of sooty soil.  Then, we emerge into the land of “what once was”. 

I have reveled in the beauty of seeing what early summer is “supposed” to look like in Colorado.  Last night in my fragile state, the contrast was too great. It roiled and boiled me.  Here is what our land once was: green, lush, dense foliage, wildflowers, aspen trees in full bloom and towering pines gently swooshing in the breeze.  I couldn’t even weep, the pain felt too enormous.  It logded in my throat and made me want to give up, call uncle, say I quit.  Into my mind came the ignorant comments from a few who inquire, “well you have insurance, dontya?”  You have already heard my description of what it really is like to deal with the insurance and the unavoidable financial losses that follow…  As the uber-brilliant Kristina Hall pointed out, it’s not like a fender bender.  Oh, we will just put all of this in the shop and it will come back good as new.  Good as new.  No it won’t actually, not ever.  Or, at least in our lifetime.

Who will help the land?  Besides being patient with it, what can really be done?  Who will scrub the soot from the trees?  The rain is trying but it is a monumental task.  It may take eons.  I can accept a lot, but when my dogs are impacted, I get pissed.  To all the bureaucrats who paper-pushed this fire into existence and then went on their merry way, how ‘bout you put your babies in the middle of an ash forest that once was their home and see how well you handle it while they crawl around and turn black from the soot.  When they breathe in the ash and begin to shit it out, let me know how accepting you are.  When you have no idea of the long-term effects, tell me how you sleep. 

When I stepped briefly away from my writing just now, the notion ran through my mind that I am too dark.  Perhaps you are tired of it.  Perhaps I should be grateful for life.  Then, I recall the words I read yesterday by Dawn Cartwritght who explores the trap of living in “love and light” where many of us feel we need to be all the f-ing time. 

I find that life has texture. It’s interesting. And so am I. Life becomes an adventure, something definitely worth getting out of bed for in the morning. And not because I am now comfortable. Not because everything’s rosy. It’s because everything is on the table. That 15 megatons of internal pressure caused by trying (said with clenched jaw and grinding teeth) to live in love and light has been released. I am free. I am raw. I am naked. And my heart? This is the big bonus. My heart is open. No longer a made-for-TV version, but the real thing. 

This is not a made-for-TV version unless TV decides it wants the real deal and not just the sound-bites (hear that Marshall? ;-) that never quite capture the actual truth. This is the raw and gritty version that has it’s ups and downs and all arounds.  This is good one day and horrific the next.  This is gratitude for the silver bullet I now call home and a moan so deep as I glance in the dusk at the vacant hole that once was my dream house.  This is all of it.  It is avoiding people I love cause I just can’t deal.  It is running to the arms of others who happen to say the right thing at the right time.  It is irritation at people’s careless, yet well-meaning remarks, deep anger at the “system”, great love for the world, marveling at the star-filled sky out my window from my cowboy-sheeted twin bed.  It is the promise of the first cup of coffee.  The stinky wet kisses from Tigger.  The happiness from the feel of my Mont Blanc pen in my hand as I drink out of a Walmart plastic cup.  It is a life in Flame and in flames. 

Are we making the right decision to stay here on this damaged but still extraordinary land?  Who the fuck knows.  We may never know.  There may be ambiguous or tragic or amazing consequences later.  Only time will tell.  Only the shadow knows.  

It aint over 'til the fat lady sings

After two days of clouds, snow, rain and mist, the sun is shining brightly today.  We have had June weather in March, and now March weather in May.  Seems Mother Nature cannot make up her mind.  This is the joy of Colorado living. 

Yesterday, my neighbors and I took our third trip to the Capitol.  This time to testify in front of a Senate committee about the future of what has now become two bills to assist victims of the fire.  After pressure from the press (primarily Channel 7), the Governor, Attorney General and legislators from both sides of the aisle came together in a press conference to declare their desire to work together.  Our testimonies last week in front of the house were very different than last night in front of the senate.  Something was shifting in big government and we could sense it in the room.  Hardened lawmakers were softening up and actually wiping away tears as they listened to our words.  The senators that sponsored the bill both got choked up as they presented their case.  All of us were more emotional too.  Yes we are tired and yes it’s hard to tell the story over and over but it seemed we were even rawer and tears flowed from most of us as we shared in front of this strangely sympathetic group. 

The bill passed 5-0 and they took what was supposed to be a 5-minute recess before resuming what was sure to be a long night for them.  Five minutes stretched to at least 20 as they took time to shake our hands and offer hugs.  Hugs from senators?  What was going on here?  I swear love was in the air – humans experiencing each other’s pain and sorrow; a willingness to be with all of it.  Many remarked that they couldn’t even begin to understand – and they were committed to making it right. 

We had learned the night before that we needed to be there at 10:30am.  Of course we rallied, cancelling plans, changing appointments and declaring our ongoing unity as a group.  We ended up sitting and waiting for a couple hours in the morning with no idea of what was going to happen.  Finally around 12pm, we were told to come back for a 4 or 5pm appearance.  Daunted but still determined, we pulled out our phone tree of who would call whom and said our goodbyes.  I watched our group, aging from mid 20’s to mid 80’s walk back out into the misty rain and felt another level of kinship with these people many of whom were strangers a mere month ago.  We have bonded the way only survivors do.  We know what we are seeing when we look into each other’s eyes.  We share a hard-earned camaraderie.  I felt for the elderly neighbors who by choice live miles and miles away from the chaos of downtown.  What were they to do during our break?  No one complained, the commitment was so great.  There was no question we would be back. 

Returning at 3:30pm, we sat again and waited even longer.  After a while, the hallways began buzzing with lawmakers and the time came.  Our testimonies finally beginning after 6pm.  Tired but determined, we shared our pain, stories and pictures again.  We asked for the government to step up and do the right thing.  Then, many senators echoed our own words, Tim Neville asked us to hold their “feet to the fire”.  Rollie Heath exclaimed, “Your testimonies are difficult to hear… this event is due to the negligence of state agencies.”  The over-arching theme being: we want to make this right.  Co-sponsor Bill Cadman closed with “we need to take responsibility above and beyond… Governmental immunity is not moral impunity.” 

Both bills will now go to the Governor.   They are far from perfect – and yet they are better than nothing.  As Scott Appel (who lost his wife Ann) pointed out, “The legislation says what can be done. It does not say what will be done.” 

We are not even close to being finished.  Many challenges lie ahead.  And, just because they may remove the liability caps, does not mean they will ever pay any money.  There are no guarantees in this game called government.  We will still have to prove our cases, express our pain, show our pictures, and tell our stories.  We will need to return over and over to the Capitol or similar venues.  There will be no immediate gratification – or anything even close. 

I am proud to be among my neighbors.  We don’t have to walk through this alone – together we are stronger.  We have our supporters in the public, seemingly in the legislature and definitely in the media.  We are grateful to Channel 7 and Marshall Zellinger and Amanda Kost for tirelessly keeping this story alive, for taking a multitude of trips up to our charred forests, for staying up late and getting up early, for looking into our eyes and hearts and being willing to fight for us. 

And even with all the support, we know we are just beginning.  As my dear neighbor Sharon Scanlon said, “It isn't over 'til the fat lady sings and she isn’t singing for a long, long time.” 

A Government for the people, by the people...

Yesterday, around 30 neighbors and families attended a hearing at the Capitol on proposed House Bill 32 152, which would raise caps for compensation for fire victims.  Representative Cheri Gerou (a mountain area resident) co-sponsored the bill with Representative Bob Gardner. 

I haven’t been to the Capital since college.  The building is beautiful and Gerou and Gardner chose to have the hearing held in the old Supreme Court chambers, an elegant vaulted room with towering stain glass images of original Colorado settlers.  The room was perfect as we discussed our fine state and what it stood for: the Wild West tamed for habitation infused with the spirit of independence formed by a community of like-minded people.

The words “by the people for the people” emerge from the fog of my formative years.  I googled this to recall the source: Lincoln’s famous quote from the Gettysburg address. “…this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom; and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”

I have always taken government for granted.  I have been of the trusting variety.  I believe in the goodness of people and the promise of our elected officials. I know we are all human and no one can be perfect so I forgive a lot.  I tune out people’s rants and raves about corruption.  When my stepfather sardonically says, “we are the government, we are here to help,” I stop listening.  Until now, that is.  I am disillusioned, I am dismayed, and I am disgusted.  And, I am very very sad about this.  My veil of denial has been lifted and it leaves a painful rawness in its wake.  I am now on the receiving end of our governments finger pointing, blame avoiding and lack of responsibility taking shenanigans. 

As I reviewed the day yesterday, I studied recent reports and articles.  Marshal Zelinger, an investigative reporter for Channel 7 and a clear friend to us fire victims, has been working his butt off to uncover the inconsistencies in our elected officials responses to this government caused disaster.  In a recent article, Zelinger quotes our swashbuckling Sherriff, who apparently can’t read.  It begins relatively harmlessly:

"We're not saying that somebody should not be held accountable," Sheriff Ted Mink said. "All we're saying is there's no criminality that we have come up with."

I tend to agree.  Even though the Forest Service employee’s actions lead to the excruciating death of innocent civilians and the destruction of millions of dollars in property, I am not sure they are criminals.  Certainly, they were careless and negligent.

From Wikipedia: Negligence (Lat. negligentia, from neglegere, to neglect, literally "not to pick up something") is a failure to exercise the care that a reasonably prudent person would exercise in like circumstances. [1] The area of tort law known as negligence involves harm caused by carelessness, not intentional harm.

Now here’s where the Sherriff’s Office departs from reality: "The reports confirm previous assumptions that a prescribed burn conducted by the Colorado State Forest Service caused the fire. Based on the review of all available documents and witness interviews, it was determined that the CSFS followed or exceeded the parameters set by the Lower North Fork burn plan, and that no criminal violation of the Colorado Revised Statutes occurred."

Zelinger points out this is all a fine interpretation except for the tiny fact that: “A report by the governor's office, released on Monday, showed that the state forest service violated its own burn plan by not patrolling the area of the controlled burn on that third day -- Sunday -- the day before the controlled burn blew up into the Lower North Fork Fire.”  Hmmmm, "followed or exceeded"?  How do they figure?

Zelinger goes on to ask Mr. Mink, "How can the Forest Service follow and exceed the burn plan and violate it at the same time?"

Mink replies, "All I know is they did not go out there on a Sunday. The burn plan says periodic monitoring, and it doesn't give a prescribed day or time or day or whatever the case is. You can interpret it in different ways. We interpreted it that they did follow and exceed it in the criminal part of our investigation."

Apparently, Mink did not read the Governors report which stated that procedure calls for 3 days of monitoring after a controlled burn…

It gets worse. Bill Bass, the leader of the fact-finding team that issued the report states, "For the life of me, I've looked through this thing, and it was a professionally written plan, it was professionally implemented, albeit one mistake on a patrol on Sunday."

Albeit one mistake… one small error in judgment.  A decision not to follow protocol even after high wind and red flag fire warnings were issued 3 days earlier.  Apparently checking the weather is not on their checklist.  And, Sunday being a day of rest and all... 

That illustrious “burn boss” decided it wasn’t necessary to go on patrol on Sunday, saying that the site looked good and the weather prediction was favorable.  Favorable for fire, that is.  I mean really? 

Bass goes on to say, the absence on Sunday did not make a difference in how the fire grew...  Did not make a difference, really?  Me thinks he doth protest too much. 

"That would be speculation on my part, but I don't think it would have changed the outcome," Bass said. 

I-D-10-T alert!

Now, I will go throw up.  Seriously.  We have all heard of politicians pulling their bullshit and the government shirking responsibility.  We have heard it so many times that we are numb to it.  Until, we are directly impacted by it. 

The government needs to be free to act in its capacity not obstructed by concerns of liability therefore we have what is called the “Governmental Immunity Act”, otherwise known as “Sovereign Immunity”.  It began with the notion that “the king can do no wrong.”  It makes the Country, and the States that utilize it, immune from prosecution.  And, I get it, up to a point.  If a police officer kills a pedestrian in a high-speed chase, he (or she) cannot be sued.  If the police were not protected from this, they could never chase criminals; the stakes would be too high.  But what if he happens to be drunk?  Is he still immune?  Obviously, there are many gray areas.

In 1987, a 17-foot boulder was dislodged by a Colorado state highway worker, rolling off a mountainside, smashing into a tour bus and killing 7 people and injuring dozens more. 

The Governor at that time, Roy Roemer, stated,  “It's a terrible accident.  Quite frankly, it's our responsibility to make it right.''

He said the state would pay medical costs for the injured, help bring family members to Colorado and provide counseling. ''I am personally accepting responsibility for the state,'' he said. ''We'll let the lawyers catch up with us later.''  (New York Times 8/11/87)

Roemer went on to make good on his promise.  They didn’t know where the money would come from.  Part of Sovereign Immunity is to place caps on financial liability.  At the time the cap was $400,000 per incident.  Now, it is $600,000 per incident – for all involved.  Roemer and his supporters found a way to compensate victims.  They took the money from the Transportation District. 

Our beloved Governor, John Hickenlooper, is taking an opposite tack from former Governor Roemer.  Instead, he is playing the game of duck and cover.  Having glad-handed a few mountain residents in his 15-minute tour after the fire, yet claiming to have spoken to dozens of people - which none of our neighbors recall… He now states his vehement opposition to the Bill, citing “a dangerous precedent would be set if changes are made to the caps”.  To this concern, Rep Gardner responded, “It will be a precedent I will be proud of.”   Continuing in this vein, Gardner said, “Perhaps if the State accepted responsibly this time, they might be more careful in the future.” 

Yesterday, the fire victims had our say.  Sam Lucas son of Sam and Moaneti Lucas, choked back the tears as he shared, "I said goodbye to my parents by kissing their 20-gauge steel casket.  An open casket was not an option with my dad", due to the fact his father’s body was burned beyond recognition or any help that an embalmer could provide.

From a KWGN Channel 2 report:

Just moments before he and his wife perished in the Lower North Fork Fire, Sam Lucas was told by a 911 operator the wildfire was simply a prescribed burn.
 “This is Sam Lucas. We live up in the foothills and we just got home and it looks like there’s a fire right at the foot of Cathedral Spires,” Lucas tells the emergency dispatcher in an audio recording released Tuesday.
 “That is a controlled burn,” the dispatcher interjects, cutting off Lucas mid-sentence. “The Forest Service is out there on scene with that.”
 Lucas: “We’ve got 79 mile an hour winds up here. And they’ve got a controlled burn?”
 Dispatcher: “Yes.”
 Lucas: “Oh, wonderful. Thank you.”
 Dispatcher: “Uh huh. Bye.”
 The bodies of Sam Lucas and his wife, Moaneti, were found at the charred remains of their home on Kuehster Road the following day.

I am not going to describe the other failures in the system right now as I have detailed many in an earlier post. 

The rest of the neighbors shared memories of our dream homes, stories of precious and irreplaceable items lost, harrowing tales of the day when no one knew what was happening and repeated calls to 911 lead to a false sense of security. 

After I testified, I was cross-examined by Rep. Dan Pabon who was particularly prickly during the entire proceedings.   I described the loss of memories and irreplaceable mementos.  Pabon then questioned me saying, “The proposed bill won’t be paying for those…” I responded, “Yes, we all know that.  You can’t give us back our memories.  Sometimes the only way to make things right is financial compensation for loss.  You can’t bring back our priceless objects.  You can do the right thing.” 

The testimonies ended with Scott Appel showing a picture of his deceased wife Ann.  He talked about his unexpected delay in returning from a business trip, repeated calls to his wife where they discussed what she should do, her reports of calling 911 and receiving assurance that all was “under control”.  A short time later, she was burned alive, her remains not found for days. 

Responses from the Governors and Attorney Generals office followed.  As David Blake from the Attorney General’s office read his statement to the committee he expressed his condolences re: our testimonies – from his already printed notes.  Not too canned there.  Neighbors glanced at neighbors in disbelief.  We really felt the “authentic” compassion flowing from the higher ups. 

Our champions, Gerou and Gardner told us there is money that could be made available for us.  None of us want to get rich off of a settlement yet we see the money as a gesture of accountability on the part of those who carelessly caused this fire to rage out of control.  Most of us are not expecting that Forest Service employees should do jail time, however, we are dismayed to hear that the head of the Forest Service stated, “No one will be losing their jobs.  No one did anything wrong.”  

An overriding concern expressed was that if caps were raised for us, it would retroactively screw all of those who came before us. 

The fact is harm has flowed from a governmental action.  As Cheri Gerou so eloquently stated, “sometimes, doing the right thing isn’t convenient.”  She closed by saying, “These people are changed.  They have nothing.  Let’s give them something.” 

The Bill passed with a vote of 8 to 3.  The next step is the Senate - and if it passes there, it will go to the Governor who will certainly veto it.

We are sorry to those who came before us.  We wish the government had stepped up for you.  It may not step up for us either – yet we will fight.  We will fight for ourselves – for those who perished as well as for those who come after us. The government will screw up again.  Perhaps with more painful financial caps as retribution, they won’t be so careless in their decisions.  And, maybe they won’t take Sunday off.  

*******************************

If you want to know what you can do to help, follow the links listed in this article.  Study and see for yourself.  Then write letters, lots and lots and lots of letters.  Specifically to Governor Hickenlooper, Attorney General John Suthers and Sheriff Ted Mink.  Express your opinion.  Support this Bill.  Another concern expressed by those opposed is that under this bill, the victims won't have the right to sue.  We don't anyway!  And, $600,000 divided between all those impacted won't go very far.  This is a diversion tactic by the powers that be.  

We welcome your support.


To Contact the Governor, go to: http://www.colorado.gov/cs/Satellite/GovHickenlooper/CBON/1251592968310


Sherrif Ted Mink:
Jefferson County Sheriff's Office
200 Jefferson County Parkway
Golden, CO 80401-2697

For the Attorney General John Suther:

1525 Sherman St.

Denver, Colorado 80203

P: 303-866-4500

F: 303-866-5691

Attorney.General@state.co.us

Consumer Line: 800-222-4444

http://www.colorado.gov/cs/Satellite/GovHickenlooper/CBON/1251592968310

I just want to go home.

Bad dream early this morning.  We were living in a police state where some group had taken over everything.  On the surface it looked ok, but some of us knew the truth.  Curfews were in place and people were mysteriously disappearing.  I had been forewarned and somehow David and I were not together.  He was back in the town – and I was on the edge of the woods on the outside of the boundary lines.  Communication was sketchy.  Cell phones were working intermittently and we didn’t want to have our ringers to alert anyone to our location.  I kept trying to reach David and left him partial messages each time we were cut off.  The group I was with was heading out soon.  I was begging David to come quickly.  He kept saying he would leave in 9 minutes but each time I reached him he hadn’t left yet.  Suddenly my group was gone without telling me and I was alone.  Franticly, I searched for David, sneaking back into town obscuring my head and face in a hat and mask. 

I could see groups of people being herded into a large fenced area – after this point they were “processed” into the system and there was no turning back.  They were taking group photographs – smiling and laughing – blind to their fate.  I failed to find David and headed back to the woods.  Then somehow we found each other and a small group of others who were fleeing.  We had our dogs with us and removed their jingling tags so nothing would make a sound on the trail.  I knew we would need to stay off the main path and had rough directions but we realized that we would be walking in the dark with no flashlights and no compass.  Time was off the essence but all of a sudden there were more delays.  Someone wanted a sandwich, David had to go to the bathroom, and I was doing something else.  We split up for a minute and suddenly I screamed, “Where are the dogs?”  In the last minute confusion both of us thought the other was watching the dogs.  My dogs had disappeared into the night, into the police state, into the unknown.  We called and called them and they never came back.

Waking with this dream I am heavy.  I keep checking on my boys as they lounge in the sun.  They are settling in to our vagabond life.  I am not.  Not yet.  Last night my grief was intense.  Earlier, I invited Dusty and Cassidy to the mall for an escape where we wandered and laughed for a few hours.  Shopping with a teenager is certainly fun.  When I dropped them off, the dark silence descended quickly.  Knowing this might be the case, Dusty stopped me and I sobbed through my car window into her arms.  “I just want to go home”, I said.  As we parted I saw the trail of her mascara filled tears running down her cheek.  Thank you for sharing my grief, Dusty.  Thank you all. 

My heart breaks this morning.  My tears want to come but I am so tired.  What’s the point of crying right now?  It’s just heavy and dark.  I miss everything about my house.  I miss my comforts.  I want to go back to some other space and time.  Sure, I want my new lessons of transformation (which I have barely glimpsed) but can I please have my home?  I will give up other things, I promise.  I will give up books, stress, overwhelm, driveness, the need to succeed, clothes – and even shoes!  I just want my home. 

It is alive right now.  I can see it and feel it.  Like a phantom limb, I am sure it is still there standing on its idyllic perch with its sweet profile staring into the vast expanse.  It is waiting for me to find it.  It is simply tucked away somewhere like that lone sock that disappears.  My brain is desperately searching through folds of time and space, sorting memories.  If I can just get back there, everything will be ok.  I can have my sanctuary.  I do not want this pain.  I do not welcome it.  There is no good ending right now.  There is no happily ever after.  I just want to go home. 

But not right now, again.

Yes, it was a good idea to take a walk with my husband and dogs this morning, however I missed my morning writing.  It is the best way to start the day for me.  By the time this many hours in the day have passed, I have moved through many spaces.  I like the purity of the morning.  I write what’s there to write.  I write what jumps out from the day before.  I write what I need to say – and what I need to have heard.  I am most fresh in the morning.  Now at 3:55pm, I am far from fresh.  I have had laughter, many tears, and some screaming today. 

The talented Amy Johnson photographed me at the site today.  I wanted grittier pictures for my professional persona.  Pictures that capture the emerging me – whoever that will be.  Some of the pictures we took today may not make ‘sense’ like me hysterically laughing at my friend Lainie’s jokes while resting my arm on torched and scared wood.  The juxtaposition of the blue Colorado sky, snow on the mountains in the distance, green pines covering hilltops (not mine hilltops, however), blackened concrete, twisted metal and me in a purple dress.  I snarled at the camera quite a lot – even shot it a double fisted bird which felt quite good.  (None directed at Amy, and she knew that).  For many reasons, Lainie was the perfect assistant. 

During a casual conversation on a chance encounter, Lainie and I discovered she had once rented my house.  When asked, I usually say I live in the Conifer area because it is too dull to explain that it’s a Littleton address but actually nowhere near Littleton proper…. We are more boonies than many Conifer addresses and in the Conifer school district.  Blah blah blah.  So, for ease sake, I say “Conifer”.  This time, I said, “well, it’s a Littleton address but…” and she said, “wow, I used to live at a Littleton address but...” And, I said “where?”  It began:  “Off Kueshter”,  “Where?”  “Off Rocky Top Trail”  “Where?” until we realized it was one in the same.  She rented it a few years prior to us buying – and she loved it dearly. 

When she pulled in the driveway with my breakfast burrito, I knew I had made the best choice possible in who should be with me today.  No words, she just grabbed me in a bear hug.  I breathed through my tears so my mascara for my photo shoot would not run down my face.  I may want grittier pictures but not that gritty… Then we laughed a lot today.  Lainie is very very funny and she has one of the most infectious laughs around.  We made a great team: me striking a pose, Lainie the lovely assistant, Amy the pro making everything ok.  It was a lovely few hours.

Then off we went to the Airstream to take a few more pics – and my beloved dogs ran off.  On a scent, they were nowhere to be found.  I tromped through the snow in my flip-flops screaming at the top of my lungs.  Amy and Lainie called them too.  We whistled, we yodeled, we pleaded, we yelled.  They had headed toward the vast wilderness where no one lives; where there would be no one to help me find them.  The panic was rising – and, I warn you, I am about to swear here… The fury surfaced: take my fucking house, take my fucking belongings but DO NOT TAKE MY FUCKING DOGS!  

Yes, they came back.  Tigger first, panting hard and slobber covering his face.  I hauled him to the car.  Roscoe emerged next.  Thank you, thank you thank you, thank you, said, guns back in my holster. 

How can I ensure my dogs safety?  They need to run.  They are used to having space to range – yet encircled by our Invisible Fence.  They are living in so many places right now, on unfamiliar terrain.  They have run off before, not often, but often enough to terrify me.  They have always come back.  I need them to always come back. 

They lie exhausted on the rug now.  Not only did they get their walk (on leashes) this morning but they got their walk-about.  Bastards.  And, how I love those bastards. 

After that adventure, the slight wind in my sails evaporated.  The lovely Shoshanna French gave me some of her time to vent and wail – and vent and wail I did.  She heard me, she got it, and she held it.  She gave me some spiritual tools to start my day.  She sent me a book on Kindle.  She offered to talk to me next week.  And, I said YES.  Yes to the love, yes to the support, yes to my darkness, yes to my fear, yes to my deep deep deep rage. 

Tonight we will attend the Conifer Town Hall meeting with much of the community and hopefully a lot of our neighbors.  We will hear from government officials as well as community resources people.  Most definitely, we will experience many emotions.  From what we have seen so far from our elected officials, they are so busy covering their asses that there has been no satisfaction for the victims.  If you are so inclined, you can read the just released official report from the fire.  In there, the truth of the days leading up to the disaster and all the mistakes made is coming forth.  Yet, the powers that be are glad-handing and protecting their own.  My husband is writing a lot more about that and you can read his blog and see his interview on Channel 7. 

It will probably be a good way for me to access some anger when I read the report – and I am not ready yet.  The lack of care, lack of following protocol, blatant disregard for the fire danger – all decisions made by a bureaucrat who lives far far away from any danger – is mind-blowing. 

Right now, it’s one thing at a time, one day at a time, one minute at a time.  And, yes, one day we will forgive the a-holes.  But, to quote my dear friend Andi (for the 3^rd day in a row), “not right now.”  

Do I contradict myself?

Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes.  Walt Whitman

At some point I will write about the metaphor of fire. I will write about the transformation that occurred and is occurring. I will write about who I became in the process and the multitude of gifts that enhanced my character.  It is still too early for that. 

Of course I can see the gifts of having community.  Yesterday we wrapped up a second full (and productive) day of site clean up. We were again supported by a crew full of friends as well as those I had never met.  All performing great acts of service as they sifted through ash and rubble, avoided stepping on the various hazards – nails, sharp edges of metal, piles of glass…  Quite a few times during the day, I imagined doing this alone – and stopped dead in my tracks.  No way.  Our community is carrying us.  That is for sure. 

After one more sifting session in the “house”, we are ready for the bulldozers.  The foundation has to come down as the raging inferno compromised the integrity of the cement that remains.  We had our potential builder, Scott Deem, out to the site and discussed where another house might go.  We still don’t know what we are doing.  We are pretty sure we will keep our land – its scorched beauty will grow on us, the views are still extraordinary.  Most of our crew would take their breaks during the backbreaking work by gazing off into the great expanse.  I can see it too.  I know there is magic still there.  I hope last nights snowfall will clean it up a bit more.  Every time we leave, we emerge like minors, covered in soot from head to toe.  My pink Keens are now grey, we are thankful for a hot shower and the ability to scrub off the remnants of our house. 

I held my breath as the first trees came down.  Clint, Kelly, CJ and Sean were the most thoughtful of lumberjacks.  They let me say which ones could go and which I was not ready to release, yet.  When they crashed to the ground, billowing clouds of ash filled the air.  The landscape continues to change before my eyes.  We wonder what will emerge on the other side.  We pray the land will heal itself in our lifetime. 

We had a big archeological find yesterday. Our house was 3 stories not counting my office and loft – which I always liked to say made it 5 stories...  We had storage under the stairs at the far back of the house where I kept my mothers china.  Our crew exhumed almost the entire set, unharmed from the rubble they had been walking over.  It lay beneath their feet waiting for rescue.  Once a cream pattern, some of the pieces are now an iridescent black.  Amazing.  We placed the whole set on top of the foundation and I emailed my worried mom pictures.  Her joy was the gift.  I know this has been hard on our parents.  Parents hate to see their kids suffer.  There is nothing they can do in this case except love us – which they have been doing brilliantly – each time we talk, I feel their pain.  I don’t want them to suffer for us, but I know it’s part of the path.  We love you Dotty, Bob, Jerry, Katie and David!  And, we know you love us. 

As the site is dismantled, the vision of my home is still intact.  I miss the conveniences of my stuff.  I miss my snow boots – much needed today in our April storm.  I miss my mittens and down jacket.  I miss my kitchen, my coffee grinder, my new teakettle.  I miss my popcorn maker, the plastic blockbuster bowl and our couch where we would watch our movies on the laptop.  I miss routines.  It still seems like a bad dream – like my recurring nightmare.  When I think about that, I feel the panic rise.  We are unplugged and homeless.  One day we may feel free – but that is not at all what this experience offers this early in the game. 

My radio show guest and new friend, Andi O’Conor (www.burningdownthehouseblog.com), remarked on another unhelpful comment often offered by the well-meaning, “it would be so freeing to lose everything…”  And, yes, I have now heard it myself.  I know your intentions are good when you say that, but we are not ready to hear it.  Metaphorically, it is freeing to have no stuff.  Realistically, it is a pain in the butt to have to document everything you ever owned.  It is heartbreaking to recall the disintegrated items.  It is devastating to comprehend the great loss. Early this morning, I remembered a cherished stuffed animal – a blue and white little dog that I had as a baby.  I miss that. 

We humans claim we want to simplify in life, yet simplification that is forced upon us is not always welcome.  As I have said before, I have no desire to accumulate the amount of stuff I once had.  It will be simpler at some point.  But in no way shape or form is losing everything to fire simple. 

I know I talked before about not losing every “thing” and I still mean that.  It is hard to describe the reality without saying, “losing everything”.  To say, well, I lost 99.89% of everything I owned when my house burned to the ground is just a bit too cumbersome….  So please forgive me for exchanging metaphors.

This experience is a death, a trauma, an extreme shock to the system.  My muscle memory is still intact.  How it felt to sit on my leopard chaise curled in my blanket next to the cool pane of my French door while sipping my first cup of coffee; the walk down the stairs holding the smooth railing as I went for my 4am pee; the texture of my beloved desk in my office where I doodled as I talked to clients; that deep cellular sense of relaxation and safety as I snuggled into MY bed – all these memories still exist in my body.   One day it was there, and the next it was gone.  Our systems will take a little while to catch up to this fact.