BY JOELLEN COLLINS
I will not regale you here with accounts of the loss of my and my husband’s first house in a brush fire so many years ago. However, I feel compelled to share some insights I gained from that sad event. Comparing my experience to anyone else’s may not be very useful, but I did absorb some lessons from that catastrophe that have indeed become part of my character.
Regarding the recent Ketchum fire that destroyed a Warm Springs apartment complex, my heart aches for those who must deal with the loss of possessions and pets and the fear of the future without a home that has been a shelter and sanctuary. The only good news from this disaster is that there weren’t any human fatalities.
After “my” fire, I had a powerful surge of gratitude that my baby daughter and I escaped just 15 minutes before our house imploded. Others since haven’t been as fortunate; the worst images of fire I have seen in the past few years are of people trying to escape the flames in Paradise, California, but instead dying in their trapped cars. So, our neighbors’ grief, which will naturally come, at least doesn’t include mourning for friends and loved ones, though some pets may have perished – a truly painful thought.
However, the loss of treasured mementoes, pictures and sentimental keepsakes is debilitating. As I tearfully recorded ours for insurance purposes, I still sensed that we were young enough to foresee a full life ahead. Some of my neighbors couldn’t rebound as easily, like the comedian Morey Amsterdam’s brother, who remained for years in a trailer provided after the fire. Also, the memories that lay in ashes were precious because of the people I associated with them; those 30-plus years of loving relationships could never be removed from my soul. Eventually, I found ways to honor all that I had learned through the challenges that ensued.
The most important lesson, though, was the evident generosity and care from my friends and family. I had no clothes except those I was wearing but was immediately presented with “care” packages of items such as diapers, toothbrushes, and offers of places to stay. For the rest of my life, I also disdained undue satisfaction from any material possession. I need very little.
Some people deride our small town because “everybody knows everything about everybody.” However, when tragedy hits one of us living in THIS paradise, we are certain that loving comfort is rapidly available. The support of our community should help heal some wounds. I have faith that it will.
Finally, as in all facets of life, a sense of humor helps. The Monday after the fire, I stood before my students at Santa Monica College and announced that I was O.K. and had accepted the destruction of my tangible possessions. Oddly, though, among the few items inadvertently saved in my getaway car were over 90 composition papers still needing to be corrected — my first chore now in my temporary digs! We all laughed at the irony.