Up In Smoke

Last night, I watched my neighbor's house burn down. As I look across the street at the burned husk of what used to be a home, I can't help but reflect on how quickly life can change. Two families were made homeless overnight. At the same time, a neighborhood of strangers came together to form a supportive community.

We were sitting in the living room watching the Olympics when we first smelled the smoke. My Dad said, "It might be from the fire in Watsonville."But it didn't smell like a campfire, it smelled more like burnt rubber. Amy immediately starts looking around to see if any of our outlets are smoking, I check the backyard to see if someone has been setting off fireworks again, and my Dad goes out the front door. Suddenly, I hear my Dad yelling and sprinting up our driveway -- "THE HOUSE ACROSS THE STREET IS ON FIRE!" Everyone explodes into action. Amy runs to call 911. My dad has already grabbed the garden hose and has run across the street. I roll out the hose for him and turn on the water, but our hose is far too short to reach the flames. The best we could do is wet the car and the front lawn in hopes of slowing down the fire. My Dad has me try to turn on our neighbor's hose, but their water pressure is much too weak for it to be of any use. My Dad yells, "Someone get Victoria!" I'm like, "Who's Victoria??" Out of the corner of my eye, I see the neighbor next door to the burning building (who turns out to be Victoria) jump into their car and move it. At this point, the fire is creeping closer and closer to the front of the house, where there are several cars parked. I hear my sister and my mom yelling, "Get back! The cars will explode! YOU IDIOTS, get back!" We have to drag my father back to our side of the street. We later find out that the husband of the house works on cars in his backyard and that there is something like 5-6 cars in his backyard and a small plane in their garage.

My sister has the phone in hand, "911 has me on hold!" she murmurs in disbelief. It turns out that the dispatchers had probably been inundated with calls from our neighborhood. The firefighters arrive in less than 10 minutes.

Neighbors and strangers are now gathering. Luckily, a firetruck parked right in front of our driveway so people stood instead on the lawn next door. They climbed his pickup truck in an attempt to get a better view. Dozens of cell phone screens documented the chaos that was happening across the street. There are no less than six firetrucks parked in our neighborhood now. We await breathlessly as they roll out the hose. "Why don't they turn it on already," someone exclaims. In that moment, we all became expert firefighters with strong opinions on how fires should be put out.

Victoria's family and dogs have been evacuated; she joins us on our driveway. We count the cars in the neighbor's driveway and are reasonably sure that they are not home. "What about the dog?" we ask with dawning realization, a fluffy white friendly beast that has been a thorn in my parents' side since it decided that our front yard was its favorite place to poop. I remember turning to my sister, who whispered in horror, "I hated that dog, but I didn't want it to die."

Just a few hours before the fire, Victoria had brought over a bagful of homegrown tomatoes. As we watched the chaos across the street, she remarked ruefully, "Good thing I picked those tomatoes. The plants are right over there by the fence on fire." Also, can I take a moment to say what a BOSS Victoria is? Lady is PREPARED. Apparently, she grew up in Florida, where evacuating their home for hurricanes is a pretty common event. She apparently had all her important documents in a box in a closet by the front door. We all need to learn to be more like Victoria.

The fire has spread throughout the entire house at this point. When we first arrived on scene, the fire was localized to the back of the house. Now, the flames are bursting out of the upstairs front window. We watch apprehensively as cinders float across the street. We fear that the massive tree on our lawn will catch fire.

The neighborhood is a cacophony of sirens and alarms, but at the same time it feels like we are drowning in silence.

As the fire is slowly contained, we hear that the family has returned. Is the dog with them? It turns out that when the firefighters had knocked down the fence in an attempt to attack the fire from the side, the terrified dog had streaked out of the flaming yard. Praise God, the dog is OK! Everyone breathes a sigh of relief as the entire family is accounted for.

We have only exchanged words with these neighbors a handful of times. Once or twice about the dog poop on our lawn. Another time when my Dad spotted someone breaking into their car at 5AM. As we walk up to the mother, she is visibly in shock. My Dad offers our house and tea to her and her family. As she pulls out her phone to call her son, her hand is shaking so badly she can't press the buttons. I put my arms around her and press her trembling hands.

It was a long night. The fire started around 9PM. The family stayed at our house and sorted out their affairs with the firefighters, Red Cross, and the insurance company until 1AM. The firefighters stayed even later to clear out the debris and rope off the house.

The Red Cross was able to find accommodations for both families. The firefighters give them $100 to tide them over for a few days. We offer to take care of the dog for the night.

It's crazy how many things there are to worry about after a house fire. On top of losing mementos and official documents, the wife worried about not having her husband's diabetes medication. The solar panel company had to be called to turn them off. The wires had been damaged so badly that if they were still on when the sun came out, the house could reignite. Both families had dogs that needed to be boarded for the upcoming days but most hotels wouldn't take them. The husband called StateFarm (to my eternal disappoint, the agent's name was not Jake) and when asked what the problem was, he stated bluntly, "My house just burned down." We all laughed, a moment of startled levity despite the circumstances. The family realized that they had bought the insurance years ago and had never really read over the terms; all the papers going over the contract were now reduced to glowing embers across the street. (My sister and I immediately turn to our Mom and demand to know whether we have house insurance. We do.)

The events of last night have gone a long ways in restoring my faith in humanity. Yes, there were rubberneckers there hoping to catch a glimpse of the action, but there were also just as many neighbors exchanging numbers, asking if there was anything they could do, and offering up their homes. The firefighters told us this isn't always the case. Apparently, in some neighborhoods, people come out, watch/film the fire, and then go back in their homes and close their doors. Unbelievable.

In the end, we are just grateful that no one was hurt. I think the entire neighborhood is going to look into their insurance policies and make emergency evacuation plans. It was definitely a much-needed wake-up call, but man! This neighborhood has been through some shit. Four houses and numerous cars broken into and now a two-alarm fire.

So yeah, lesson learned -- say "Hi" to your neighbors from time to time, you never know when you'll be knocking on their door for help.