Thicker than Smoke

Published November 1, 2017 in Tulare County's Foothills Sun-Gazette


     Through all the national emergencies of the last three months – hurricanes, shootings, fires, more hurricanes -  I’ve found myself focused on the aftermaths.  In the midst of the terror of “the unthinkable” actually happening, we inevitably discover something beautiful in its midst: human hearts and spirits responding in what often seems superhuman ways.

           

     My sister works in Santa Rosa, lives in Windsor just north of the hottest tongue of fire that snaked down canyons from Calistoga three weeks ago.  She is the family’s anchor, and (with her stalwart husband) was preparing to accompany our 91+ year old mother to Maui for perhaps her last trip.  Despite all the potential disruption to that plan, they made it to the airport 6 days after the fire began, while it was still uncertain when containment could occur.

           

     The fires were out when they returned, but restoration efforts had barely begun.  I gave her a few days, then emailed her to ask how her trip had been and if she’s getting caught up at work.  She said no, she won’t be caught up for a long time, but “I have a home to go home to and we’re all safe, so that’s all that matters.”  Then this:

           

     “The trip was ok but not the best trip we’ve ever had – I experienced some form of PTSD/Survivors guilt and, combined with the exhaustion from the week and the horrid winds that followed us to Maui that felt like the same winds that burned my beloved town….I was not sleeping much.  The only thing that made it ok was that Lisa, Vince and John were safely ensconced in our house and it felt like sanctuary for them so that was good.”  Lisa, Carol’s lifelong friend who just remarried, was away the night the fire started.  John, Lisa’s son, had driven through flames to wake Vince in their new home, which burned to the ground not long after the two men escaped with their lives.

           

     “Jordanna’s job at the County Assessors office brings her in contact with everyone who’s lost everything; she’s holding up ok but it’s hard on her, especially to hear the stories of the old people that perished.   Santa Rosa smells like wet ashtray, some of the smell lingers in the office as well and the drive between downtown and Windsor is just devastating to see the wicked and wild path of the fire – what it spared and what it took.  Every day is a fresh reminder of what happened, what we’ve lost and the long and arduous road we have ahead of us.   #theloveintheairisthickerthanthesmoke”

           

     The love in our hearts is thicker than smoke, stronger than a rain of bullets, bigger than the largest tropical storm system.  I think our world would be a safer place if we learned to count on that fact of life.

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Trudy Wischemann is a resolute rural writer who works in Lindsay.  You can send her your heart-in-action stories c/o P.O. Box 1374, Lindsay CA 93247 or leave a comment below.

Uncovered

Published Dec. 17, 2014 in Tulare County's Foothills Sun-Gazette


Dear Friends and Neighbors,


     Since Thanksgiving I’ve had difficulty writing, not only this column but anything else.   At first I thought it was just my transition from worker to self-employed.  But as the days passed, I realized my muteness was caused by a sense of being uncovered.


     To be “covered” can mean a lot of things.  We use the word to describe everything from having insurance or a financial backer to having a roof over our heads or a tarp on the car.  Protection from the elements, whether natural or man-made, is the usual implication.  To be uncovered, then, is the removal of some layer of protection we consider normal, expected.


     The fire in Lindsay two days after Thanksgiving which destroyed the century-old brick building that once housed Stamper Motors left me feeling that we, as a community, have become uncovered.  The transition to our current state, in which the city’s fire protection is supplied by the police department, began many years ago when the police and fire departments were merged into one department of public safety under the leadership of Rich Wilkinson and Scot Townsend.  Despite protests by fire protection professionals and a grand jury investigation, that merger led eventually to the cross-training of policemen for fire work and the loss of professional firemen.


     Although there have been other examples of problems created by this double-duty arrangement, November’s fire was the handwriting on the wall.  According to one eyewitness, only two officers were on duty when the fire was called in.  It takes two people to man a fire truck, so both were employed fighting the fire and no one was available to direct the traffic that naturally began accumulating at the scene.  By the time two more officers responded to man the ladder truck (almost an hour after the fire started,) the streets were clogged with cars.  It took twenty minutes for the ladder truck to reach the fire two blocks from the station.  By that time the flames had stopped licking the skies behind Webb-Sanders Funeral Home, but the fire burned for hours, filling the streets downtown and lungs of every resident within a quarter mile with black smoke that lingered for days.


     I can hear their protests now:  this is the best we can do in a small town with an impoverished population, shrinking tax base, increasing absentee ownership, whatever other definitions of handicap that have become normal to many rural communities across the nation.  When people hear the name “Lindsay,” they no longer think of it as the center of Tulare County’s orange production or remember it as “a nice town, a great olive.”   They think of it as a farmworker town where people are regularly made hungry and thirsty by freezes and droughts.  We’re a town that regularly needs some kind of bailout by the government at one level or another, and the City’s become expert at raising the cry.


     But this dearth in fire coverage is the City’s own making.  I don’t think it’s the best we can do.  There’s some uncovering needed down at City Hall, and I hope the newly-elected City Council will address this question in the New Year.  In the meantime, everyone be really careful with those Christmas tree lights and New Year’s Eve fireworks lest we discover the hard way just how uncovered we really are.

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Trudy Wischemann is a volunteer fireman’s daughter who remembers the death of her friend Kevin Suttles in the Brown's Point Cliff House fire in the second grade.  You can send her your suggestions for improvements in Lindsay’s fire protection c/o P.O. Box 1374, Lindsay CA 93247 or leave a comment below.