Show What the fires couldn't destro ate 4 F Los Angeles Times photo b by Genaro Molina A firefighter pauses in the rubble of a fire ravaged home in the Rancho B Bernardo community of San Diego Alexandra Kovach Special to The Washington PostIn PostIn Post PostIn In most parts of the country there is nothing like a beautiful autumn day particularly one with warm warm breezes and above- above average temperatures But in California these autumn treats can be signs of impending danger No matter where I am on such days 1 l think of October 1991 when my childhood home burned down in a California wildfire Ours was one of homes destroyed in the Oakland Hills fire I was never sure if that in ma made de deit deit it better or worse It was helpful to think we were not alone in our loss but painful to know that so many others were suffering through their own family tragedies Its It's difficult today in a world that is filled with violence and devastation and that has experienced countless natural disasters since then to put the event in proper perspective You start by saying that it was just a house and that its contents were just things and of course you are thankful when there is no loss of life But then the definition of home emerges It isn't just a house Its It's not the contents or the walls but the true feeling of that home and all that it represents Our homes are our foundations retaining in their walls our memories and all the experiences that happen within them I still visualize our house on Vicente Road I have dreams that take place there I can still feel the lace on my mothers mother's wedding veil which my sisters and I would sneak sneak- out of its box when we were little girls with big ideas Or the texture of my parents' parents bedspread as we read The Wind inthe inthe in inthe the Willows leaving my dreams filled with visions of Mr Toad floating down the river night after night And that giant box where my mother would proudly store the artistic treasures we brought home from school I would love to see now or to show my children one day how I Idrew Idrew Idrew drew the sun when I was 5 I remember learning of the fire that day and finally reaching my parents The They had retreated to the home of friends who had planned to have a party that afternoon but ended up providing shelter for formy formy formy my parents who after 25 years in their home were suddenly refugees They had escaped with two photo albums and anda a painted portrait of my uncle great-uncle in Ireland My mother said to me I have two photo albums But Im I'm not sure youre you're in them And Im I'm just not sure I have the heart to look Being the youngest of five I had fallen victim to a common syndrome affecting youngest children the dwindling of devotion to baby books and photographs as parents' parents days become filled with carpools and soccer practices We couldn't bear to look for two weeks But I Iwas Iwas Iwas was in the album We Ve all l' l were Miraculously my mother had picked up the album that my sister Kate and I had made one rainy Saturday from all the photographic rejects we could find We had given each person in our family a chapter documenting each persons person's life to date complete with the school pictures highlighting bad haircuts and plaids Overnight these snapshot disasters became our greatest treasures Today's digital photos can be modified or erased within seconds of being taken wiping away all signs of human imperfection These albums had held the of our lives so far but in their flaws they were true testimony to the children we were and the adults we became making them all the more precious That day it was my father who said what I remember most clearly When my mother handed him the phone he told me Everything we invested in the five of most you your education your music your travel it all still exists This fire cant can't take that away And he was right As much as I want my stuffed Snoopy the gum gumball ball machine my brother made for me for Christmas x j when I was 8 or even f fJ J to wear wear my mothers mother's wedding dress someday I know that all those things including the experience of losing them are essential threads in my fabric the canvas that thatis is my life That canvas like theone theone the theone one my mother saved from the fire that October day is a survivor of that tragedy The experience is an important part of my life It was a temporary loss of identity and home that forced me me to understand the strength of family and the power of memory And of working together to rebuild an even ven stronger identity |