Camp Meeker Beat by Tom Austin - December 2018
Well, then. I presume you have digested your Thanksgiving feast and are moving on to stressing about Christmas. Or, you have my full permission, not. My wife and I alternate between the full Christmas to-do and the minimalist no-fuss just us. They’re both good. Do what you want. You have my full permission.
Right now, as I write this, fire is on my mind, on everyone’s mind I’ll wager. I sit under smokey skies besmudged by the Camp Fire. I’m not happy about it, but I don’t think my soupcon of suffering measures up to that of Paradisians, or anyone who has braved a fire more directly than breathing air that’s a bit smudgy. Mind you, I grew up in Southern California back when smog alerts were a real and regular thing, so perhaps I am a bit jaded. By the time you read this, the air will have been washed clean by rain, I hope, and we can rest a bit and gear up for next year’s fire season.
There’s a lot of gearing up to do, I know. I just attended the second showing of the “Wilder than Wild” documentary presented as public service by the Park and Rec Board at Anderson Hall. The company was congenial, the content sobering. Afterwards a firefighter, Will Powell from Cal Fire, said a few words and took some questions. Cal Fire is taking their outreach mission seriously. Will avers that he is willing to meet with any group of people that wants to talk fire safety, be they 2 or 100 people.
Richard Seaman and Amy Lemmer from Fire Safe Camp Meeker (FSCM) were also present, taking signatures on their petition and keeping the community apprised on what they are up to. More on that later.
I’d like to summarize the discussion for you, but even now I’m feeling a little overwhelmed by it all. I have relatives in Chico and near Lake Shasta (and of course many friends in Santa Rosa) who have watched the fire approach their doorstop on very angry cat feet. The danger of fire feels very real and personal right now, as I’m sure it does for you. I will just say that there was a vibrant discussion, with a frank and candid exchange of ideas. I know in diplomat-ese “frank and candid” is a euphemism for “shoes were thrown”, but in fact it was laudably civil, although emotions did run high at times.
I lack the space here to get into practical matters of fire preparation here, although I plan to return to the subject in future columns. What I might have space for is to address the emotional side of this subject: Fire is scary. It is frightening on a primal level, not least because it reminds us that ultimately, we are not in control. The Hawaiians have a goddess, Pele, who is in charge of fire, wind, and volcanoes – but being as we live in “Cali”-fornia I am going to nominate Kali, Hindu goddess of destruction, as the deity who is really in charge here. Kali has another side; she is also in charge of preservation of nature, a theme echoed by the “Wilder than Wild” film, in which explained the history of indigenous cultures using fire in harmony with the ecosystem, clearing underbrush (“ladder fuels”) and reducing the intensity of the inevitable wildfire. I speak now, however, of the angry face of Kali presented in the last few wildfire seasons. Her eyes are red with rage as she metes out destruction. Our emotions can be similarly dark.
This is not to say that preparation is futile; far from it. Anything we do now, in preparation, might save lives and homes. This preparation will be on the individual level, the community level (through and with organizations like Cal Fire, the Camp Meeker VFD, Fire Safe Camp Meeker), and at the governmental level (for example, exhorting various governmental bodies for various kinds of help).
As we have seen already in discussion this issue, sometimes we give in to our Kali nature and start blaming people for not helping enough. The County Gummint makes a fat and easy target here; they don’t always spend your tax money wisely, do they? I won’t argue the point. I will however, rejoinder that when confronting a powerful and angry goddess, such recriminations are a waste of scarce energy. There’s a lot of work to do, so figure out where your place is and pitch in. Join the VFD. Pester your county supervisor. Rip out some of that ivy. Get certified with a chainsaw. Help out with grant applications. Work the phones. Go in on a U-Haul with your neighbors and organize a dump run. Or, if you’re superhuman, do all of it. There is literally no amount of good work that is too much here.
