From the Ashes We Will Rise

Words of resilience in Santa Rosa, CA following the devastating 2017 Tubbs Fire.

“One day when Troy was four and Scott was two,” my friend Ginnie said during a Sunday picnic, “Scott came running in, tears pouring out of his little eyes, with a big red bite mark on his cheek. ‘What happened?’ I asked. Troy came in after him and said, ‘Scott bit himself!’ I said, ‘Oh, really? How did he do that? It would be kind of tough to reach that spot on his own face.’ And Troy said, ‘He stood on a chair.’”
 
As a great gust of laughter rose from the picnic table, Ginnie added, “And yes, Troy grew up to become a lawyer.”
 
The stories we tell give shape and meaning to our lives, which is why we take such pleasure in offering them to the world. As Groucho Marx put it, “If you’ve heard this story before, don’t stop me, because I’d like to hear it again.”

Right now, I need to hear stories confirming that, as Sam says in Lord of the Rings, “There’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it’s worth fighting for.” That’s why, a few Fridays ago, Rich and I took the train north to Santa Rosa, booked a room in our favorite haunted hotel, and went to hear one of America’s most warm-hearted poets, James Crews.
 
The (allegedly) haunted Hotel La Rose hasn’t changed much since 1907. Or my last visit. As usual, I didn’t sense the ghost boy in the elevator, see the white lady walk through walls, or hear the shrieks of the family who met a grisly end in Room 42. One weird thing: every time I straightened the old portrait on my bedroom wall I’d find it askew again. Supernatural forces or wonky hanging wire? You be the judge.

The poetry reading was every bit as comforting as I’d hoped. “Even if no one ever touched you with the tenderness you needed,” James read from his poem The World Loves You Back, “believe that the world has been holding you in its arms since the day you were born.”
 
James and his husband, farmer-poet Brad Peacock, had just published an anthology called Love Is for All of Us. They hadn’t met all of the 100+ contributors face to face and seemed delighted when one showed up unexpectedly at the reading, saying, ‘Hi, I’m page 33!”
 
It didn’t take much to persuade page 33 (aka MJ Arcangelini) to do an impromptu reading. 

Brad, James, and MJ at Copperfield's Books in Santa Rosa

In Goodbye Kiss, MJ writes, his lover
 
Planted a kiss on my mouth
He didn’t care who saw us 
He was acting in the world 
He wants to be living in
Not the world where that
Might have been a
Dangerous thing to do…
 
Two old men in love
Saying goodbye in
A small airport lobby
As if there were
No one else around.
​

As the Bard says, "Parting is such sweet sorrow."

Brad talked about how proud he’d been to serve as a soldier like the grandfather he’d idolized. And how shattered and shamed he felt when the Air Force learned he was gay and kicked him out for what they labeled an “antisocial personality disorder.” It took him decades to rebuild his life around love and purpose. Now he is once again being defined as an enemy of the state.
 
“At a time when books are being banned simply for their content, without any regard for context,” James wrote in the book’s introduction, “when LGBTQIA+ people are being attacked and ridiculed, with laws placed on our bodies and our right to exist out in the open, we see this book as an antidoted to prejudice. We believe these poems are the exact medicine we need to help us love each other, ourselves, and the world more fully, remembering that no matter who we are, and no matter our situation, we deserve the everyday wonders life offers us.”

Poet Kai Coggin called the book “a declaration of unwavering truth. Within these pages we are safe. We are held. We are loved.” And that is the wonder of words; even when the world isn’t safe or sane, our narratives can create comfort, inspire us to act in hope, and provide a refuge from the firestorm raging around us.
 
In that Santa Rosa bookstore, I realized I was sitting among many who had literally survived a firestorm: the Tubbs Fire of 2017. Sparked by a faulty electrical system on rural Tubbs Lane, sped by winds up to 60 miles an hour, fed by drought-parched land and 5643 buildings, it killed 22 people and ate up 36,807 acres in a three-week rampage.

​Officials could have sent out an emergency alert to every cellphone in the area but they feared (with good reason) that the entire population would jump in their cars and flee, hampering emergency response efforts. Instead they sent out targeted alerts. Not everyone got the message.
 
“We had no idea how close the fire was,” one resident told Rich. “In the middle of the night my dog’s growling woke me. I got up, looked out the window, and saw my garage was on fire. I woke my wife, grabbed the kids, and we ran outside. Ten minutes later the entire house was gone.”
 
And speaking of first-responder canines, I have written before about the heroic Odin. Like Groucho, I can't resist telling such a good story again.

The Great Pyrenees Odin, who wouldn't leave his goats

“Despite the sounds of exploding propane tanks, twisting metal, and the hot swirling winds, Odin refused to leave our family of eight bottle-fed rescue goats,” said Roland Hendel. “He was determined to stay with the goats and I had to let him do it ... I was sure I had sentenced them to a horrific and agonizing death.” Incredibly, all the animals survived. Oden emerged with a singed coat, melted whiskers, and a limp, but he’d remained steadfast, protecting the goats and a few terrified baby deer who joined the little flock.

As you can imagine, the community's recovery was long, expensive, and filled with plenty of free and frank discussion about who was at fault and how rebuilding should proceed. Everyone was shell-shocked, especially the children. Teacher Tracy Henry saw a sharp spike in misbehavior among her third-grade students, half of whom had lost their homes to the fire. Her solution? Put them to work writing poetry.
​

Thanks to the non-profit California Poets in the Schools, poet Margo Perin taught Tracy's third-graders how to get started.

“From now on,” wrote eight-year-old Delia Stone, “never give up and never be mean. But when some things are tough, be kind and enjoy the sunlight.” 
 
Right now the world feels as preposterous as Troy’s childhood excuses. Men who look like Bond villains insist they have the right to tell us who we may love. To punish us for believing the Constitution’s promise that we could live forever in the country of our birth. To mock us for biting our own cheeks by standing on a chair.
 
But Delia’s right; when things are tough, be kind and enjoy the sunlight.
​
“Life is much wilder, more complex, heartbreaking, weirder, richer, more insane, awful, beautiful and profound than we were prepared for as children,” wrote author Anne Lamott. “The paradox is that in the face of this, we discover that in the smallest moments of taking in beauty, in actively being people of goodness and mercy, we are saved.” 

Can one person make a difference? Ask 76-year-old Peter Lang, who grabbed a garden hose and spent all night, alone, fighting the Tubbs Fire as it approached his Safari West Wildlife Preserve. Not one of his 1000 creatures perished.

​​FINDING HOPE
This story is part of my series of blog posts exploring ways we help each other find hope in this worrying world. Know someone you think should be featured? Tell me more in the comments section below.
See all the posts in this series.
​
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