Oklahoma Dreaming: Wildfire
by Donna Schoenkopf
I opened the sliding glass door. I forget why. And as I inhaled I got a slight scent of smoke.
First thought, someone’s using their fireplace.
No.
Second thought, wildfire.
Yeah. It smelled just like Topanga Canyon thirty years ago when we locals were told to “EVACUATE THE AREA! EVACUATE THE AREA! NOW! DO NOT GET ANYTHING! LEAVE IMMEDIATELY!” by a patrolling fire department pickup truck with a sound system on its roof.
My two little boys were both naked in the front yard in the wading pool when we heard the warning. I put the boys in the car, grabbed the box with mother cat and kittens, hopped in my car, and drove down the steep and curvy road to the Holiday Inn in the Valley.
Got a room. (The desk person knew why we were there. There were lots of people pouring out of Topanga.) Got on the elevator with my two naked babies and a box full of cats. The door opened before I got to my destination.
The businessman standing on the other side of the open door just looked in and let the elevator door close. Didn’t say a word.
We lived in that room for a couple of days. Got diapers, little boy shorts and shirts, and cat food. Ate out, mostly at the hot dog stand down the street.
Our house didn’t burn down. But some others did. After the fire, people left signs along Topanga Canyon Road which read I love firefighters! My favorite sign (which I’ve spoken of now and then over the years) was poked into the side of a smallish, round hill. It looked like a word balloon next to a character in a comic book. It read, I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain.
I love Topanga.
ANYWAY, these were the thoughts I had when I poked my head out the sliding glass door.
Then I was plunged into the present.
The first thing I noticed was the really intense wind. It blew in gusts that slapped and punched my house. Nothing like THIS in Topanga.
Luckily, my Oklahoma house is steel. The ribcage of my house is made of a series of steel girders. Steel plates were set into the concrete floor when it was wet and then the girders were bolted into those plates with large steel bolts. The steel skin of my house has double the rivets normally used in these buildings.
This is because Peewee built it. He knew I’d get wind up here.
But I digress.
I went out to check my two apple trees and cherry tree that I had planted earlier that week. (Always take care of the living things first.) I had watered them the day before. Deeply. But their leaves, especially on the Granny Smith, were looking kinda curled. And limp.
I looked at the clay dirt. Dry as a bone.
That hot wind had literally sucked every drop of water out of the soil.
(One of the dangers of global warming is increased wildfires.)
So I dragged the long hose over from the front “yard,” reconnected the hose to the pump, and watered the trees.
A strange thing happened.
All of the animals came home. They are normally out and about at that time of day (about 4 or 4:30). Even Rosie the Cat ran in. (She never comes home before dusk.) She came in with her tail looking like she had put her paw in a light socket. And she was nervously looking back over her shoulder as she ran inside.
Diego the Dog was home, too. He loves the neighbor dog, Sally, and hangs out with her at her house all day and comes home when he gets hungry, just before dusk. But today, he was back way early. Che the Cat is ALWAYS home, though. He goes everywhere I go. If I‘m inside, so is he. If I‘m outside, he‘s right behind me. Such a mama’s boy.
So there we were. In the house. Waiting. And watching.
I noticed the sky getting darker. In Oklahoma that normally means we’ve got a storm coming. But the sky had a brown tint to it.
It was smoke.
I turned on the teevee. The fire(s) were forty or fifty miles away. I watched some houses burn down. Followed the map talk. Pretty much realized nothing was gonna burn here. At least not from those fires.
But before I came to that reassuring thought, a different thought had crossed my mind. About being stuck in my steel house and roasting like a pig. With my two cats and my dog.
Hmmmmmmmmmm.
I just want to say right here that Oklahoma has BY FAR the best weather reporting on TV that I have ever seen.
They have technical stuff that turns images and radar this way and that and gives you depths of understanding that are truly exquisite. And modern day weather reporting was born right here in Oklahoma. Yes, it was.
Well these technical wonders are certainly being used to their full extent today. The wind factor of this fire is being shown in all sorts of ways. The weather guys show us arrows and radar and sky cams and isobars.
And another thing. The people who are in charge of what is being seen over the air waves do not flinch at cancelling the shows their stations paid good money for. They do not worry a fig about someone calling up to complain that their favorite show is being pre-empted. No, no, no. Weather first, baby. If there’s a tornado or a wildfire, forget American Idol, kiddo. For the night. The whole night.
In Oklahoma, when it comes to the weather, people over profits.
Eventually, after a couple of days, the fires were stamped out, the smoke cleared out of the air, the television weather people and reporters returned to normalcy.
Nice, nice, very nice.
donna@fourstory.org
Comments
Hmmmm I vaguely remember more animals than 2 cats showing up to check into the Holiday Inn.. Can’t believe how long ago it was…B
2009-04-16 by barbara SteinbergOne of my biggest fears is that my house will catch on fire while I’m at work and my “baby” cat won’t be able to get out. Some people might say that she’s just a cat but she’s like my child - who’s gonna be 13 this June!
2009-04-17 by Violeta Rios
Make Bill Bumgarner tell you what his role was in development of Doppler radar. Oklahoma weather reporting would suck without it. I suspect he invented the whole thing.
JR
2009-04-16 by john reese