Feature Story

Fourteen years ago, my husband and I were lucky during the Laguna fires. Our trailer home did not burn. This October, as the parents of a 5-year-old living in a rambling residence in Modjeska Canyon, we wanted to be more than lucky. We wanted to make sure that our young son felt safe, no matter the fate of our home.

     Late Sunday, the fire started just a few miles from our home, near the intersection of Silverado and Santiago Canyon Roads. We learned later that it was the act of an arsonist. The familiar siren blared down the hill from the volunteer fire station. We began to pack some essentials and discussed evacuation strategies. Family and friends called and emailed. Typical subject line: CAN WE HELP?

     On Monday, we woke to an automated call from the school district informing us that our son’s school was closed. We didn’t want to risk separation, so we decided not to go to work. Our lawyer/friend called late in the morning, insisting that we take photos of the inside and outside of our home to document belongings for insurance purposes. Midday, we began loading our 2 vehicles. Our son helped by packing his toys. While we monitored the fire via radio, computer and telephone, our son alternately listened to “Harry Potter” on an audiobook in his room or, as a special treat, watched a favorite DVD in the living room.  We chose to spare him the disaster updates on the radio, even as the phone rang off the hook.

    By now, Southern California was ablaze, from the border to the mountains to Santa Clarita. Sure, he knew the fire was out there, but he did not need to be engulfed in it, as it were. We placed lawn sprinklers on our roof. He helped. We talked with the remaining neighbors on our friendly block. As power was interrupted and then restored, interrupted and restored, we decided that if it really ever went out and stayed out, we would leave.
Time to leave

     Later, after dinner, our son asleep, the call for voluntary evacuation came. Since, as my husband put it, we weren’t gaining anything by staying, we left. He carried our sleeping son to the minivan and I followed in our car with the 2 cats. We locked our home and drove away. We were, it turned out, among the last people to drive over Modjeska Grade before the fire jumped the road. 

    My son continued to sleep and for that, I was glad. The full force and sweep of the raging fire as we crested the grade was frightening. I looked back at what we were leaving, our community and home and had a moment there, hands gripping the wheel, cats mewing in the passenger seat, the taillights of our van ahead. Here we go, I thought. Firefighters and their engines stood ready in every driveway up along the grade road: friends and strangers, ready to spend the night with that fire.

     We spent that night and the 6 nights that followed as guests of nearby friends. We chose their home for a number of reasons. First, they offered. But most important was location and a comfortable familiarity.  Their home was close enough for us to monitor our own – but far enough to feel safe, out of the fire’s range, unless things got really, really bad instead of only really bad. The Red Cross shelter a few blocks down at El Toro High School seemed a good measure of safety. Also, our son knew these friends and their home. The wife had assisted at his birth.  So when he woke up the next morning and discovered where we were, his response was “Cool.”

A teaching moment at the shelters
    The next afternoon, he and I visited the Red Cross shelter. I wanted him to understand how lucky we were to have generous friends – but also, how lucky others were to be cared for by generous strangers.

    The gym was lined with cots and filled with the noise of 300 evacuees and a platoon of staff. Children played in the next room. We hoped to find neighbors, but most evacuees were from San Diego, which only impressed us further as to the scope of the conflagration. Cheerful banners read, YOU ARE SAFE HERE. Food was available. Medical care, too.  Animals were outside, a small domestic zoo under a shade tent. Law enforcement did security and parking. The next day the governor would visit.

  That day, news had turned grim. Firefighters on the ground and air pulled out of our canyon that afternoon. My father, a career LAFD firefighter, was officially discouraged.

What do I say to my son?
     All news took on a new, deep meaning. I began to wonder how to approach the subject with our son, what seemed this likely loss of our house, our life. He knew some of the volunteer firefighters on the ground. I decided to start there. You know, I told him, that Birkin is fighting the fire. He nodded. What do you think he should do if the fire gets too big? He should leave, was his ready answer. Even if homes burn? Yes, he said, Birkin is more important than a house.
     If the worst happened, my son would be able to handle it, I thought.

     As the week went on, our days were shaped by news reports and rumors, punctuated by calls and emails from family, friends and others from our displaced community. Hope can be exhausting to sustain, and there is some relief in abandoning it. But we just couldn’t. 

    Eventually, unexpected optimism returned when we realized that the early reports were incomplete. Yes, the canyon was devastated, but only at its mouth. Our home and the vast majority of homes, including the over century-old “Arden” home of Madame Modjeksa, for whom the canyon is named, were saved. Still, the fire burned. Smoke and ash were inescapable. At night, the foothill peaks lit up like small volcanoes.  The other nearby canyons were evacuated by week’s end. My son’s childcare teacher was prominently captured in a photo in the OC Register, scrambling down the road, clutching possessions.

An uncertain homecoming
      That weekend, we were able to visit our home for 10 minutes, escorted by a fire marshal. Through the burned hills, past our son’s untouched elementary school, we waved gratefully at every variety of police, fire and utility worker. Later, we attended 2 previously scheduled birthday parties for my son’s school friends. At one, we sat at a table populated entirely by families who had evacuated their homes. It was the first time our son saw his schoolmates and friends since the fires broke out. Some of the children had been, like us, evacuated from their homes all week. Some, like us, know their homes are safe. Some of them don’t know what they have lost.  At some point, candles were lit, wishes were made, then the tiny fires were blown out.

     Our 5-year-old son will always remember the fires of October 2007. We will help him. He will remember the power of a wildfire fed by drought and winds. Like us and many Californians, October and the Santa Ana winds will likely haunt him a bit. He will remember the fear and uncertainty. I defined a new word for him this week: arsonist. In the definition, I saw how his childhood world gained another villain, this time close to home, and all too human.

    I hope my son will understand, as I do, that these times challenge our communities, revealing our values and testing our relationships.  And when the time comes for him to participate fully in his community and make contributions to sustain it, strengthen it and protect it, I hope he will, knowing he benefited so much from it early on in his life. m

     Lisa Alvarez is a contributing writer whose house, thankfully, was left untouched by the canyon fires.

Disaster Preparedness 101
    While Southern California has seen its share of natural disasters, the October fires spell out the importance of preparing for the unexpected – fires and earthquakes, specifically.

    A short video on the Orange County Red Cross’s website explains the 3 main ways to prepare for a disaster: “Get a kit. Make a plan. Be informed.” (Click on the banner, “Are You Red Cross Ready?” at oc-redcross.org.)

How to create a disaster kit:
    A disaster preparation kit should include enough of the following items for a week:

>> Water – 1 gallon per person, per day
>> Non-perishable food
>> First-aid and other medical supplies
>> Battery-operated radio and extra batteries
>> Flashlight and batteries
>> Prescriptions and medications
>> Clothing and blankets
>> Tools and emergency supplies
>> Important family documents, such as insurance, birth certificates, etc.
>> Cash
>> Specialty items for members of the family

Keep these important resources on hand in case of an emergency:

>>Orange County Sheriff Department: ocsd.org; 714.647.7000 or 949.770.6011
>>Orange County Red Cross: oc-redcross.org; 714.481.5300
>>Orange County Public Information Hotline: 714.628.7085
>> Orange County Fire Authority (OCFA): ocfa.org; 714.573.6000
>>Orange County Department of Education (OCDE): ocde.k12.ca.us; 714.966.4000
>>California Department of Transportation (Cal Trans): dot.ca.gov; 916.445.7623
>>District 12 – Orange County: dot.ca.gov/dist12
>>Orange County Animal Care Services: ocpetinfo.com; 714.935.6848 or 714.935.7158 (after hours)
>>National Weather Service: weather.gov
>>Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA): fema.gov; 1.800.621.FEMA

Fire tips to keep the home safe:
 >> A smoke alarm should be in each room and both stories of the home.
>> Smoke alarms should be replaced every 10 years and batteries for the safety device should be replaced at least once a           year. (Hint: Change them every Daylight Saving Time.)
>> Test your smoke alarm once a month.
>> Always have 1 or more fire extinguishers in the home. (These have expiration dates; please check.)
>> Automatic fire sprinkler systems are suggested.
>> Keep a safety ladder on the second level of the home.
>> Keep a first-aid kit in the home and car.

Earthquake tips:
>> Make sure bookcases and furniture are bolted to the walls.
>> The water heater should be strapped to the wall with screws.
>> Put in strong latches on cupboards.
>> Keep heavy objects close to the ground.

    Compiled by Ashley Eliot, an editorial assistant for Churm Media.