It seems pointless to write about anything
besides the insane wildfires that have consumed
much of San Diego County. Kind of like making small
talk about the weather on September 12, 2001.
Nearly 2,000 homes have been destroyed in the past
four days, and more than 300,000 acres of land in
San Diego resemble burnt toast. It's the largest
fire in California history. Who can talk about
I've been lucky. About all I've had to do is
clean up some of the ash that has fallen from the
sky. Others have not been so lucky. My sister and
her family had to flee their home on Sunday, after
watching flames consume nearby houses in their
neighborhood. Their house made it through intact,
and they were able to return later in the day.
Since then, however, they've been housebound in a
home without power, phone or cable service, forced
to put wet towels around the doors and windows to
keep out smoke that's so thick they can't see the
other side of their street. And today, they were
put on notice that they might have to evacuate
again at a moment's notice.
California is no stranger to natural disasters.
We've had other devastating wildfires, we've seen
landslides taking down beachfront homes. And of
course we had a giant earthquake nearly ten years
ago. But each disaster comes as a new shock. We're
so used to our perfect climate, so complacent with
the ease of our lives in paradise, that we forget
just how powerful Mother Nature can be. Residents
of other parts of the country deal with hurricanes,
floods, snowstorms and much more on a constant,
regular basis. They're old pros.
This disaster truly possesses monumental
proportions, no doubt about it. But I think its
shock value rises several notches because we're so
psychologically unused to such destruction. Which
perhaps is a good thing.
Strickland ALL RIGHTS