“Sojourn’s End,” 5″ x 8″ watercolor By Donna Lyons © 2015

By Marty Coffin Evans © 2016

They’d been separated for years. Now an arranged phone call connected them to loved ones many miles and a continent or two away.

Perhaps one was in refugee camp while the other, safe in another country. Perhaps one was exiled waiting for release and freedom. Whatever the circumstance, a long- awaited call would soon arrive.

The phone connection’s length – three minutes. “Hello. I am fine. How are you?”

Two minutes fifty nine seconds remain to tell, ask about and capture life since they last saw each other. What did they talk about – family members, health, livelihood, the political situation or…?

Thinking about having only three minutes to talk with a loved one, knowing the call would disconnect soon, raises questions for us. Would we talk about the trivial or mundane such as weather?  If it were a major factor in our dislocation from each other, we just might.

I remember making a phone call to my mother when she was living in California. Given the long lines at the terminal phone booths that September 11, 2001, I made a ship to shore call to her.  It’s cost – $48; its value – priceless.

We had sailed out of New York City, by the World Trade Center, on September 7, headed up the East Coast on a Fall Foliage cruise. We’d passed Boston and were in Peggy’s Cove, Nova Scotia when vacationers nearby asked if we were from America. “Have you heard the news?” Finding a gift shop, with its radio playing, we soon learned “the news.”

No doubt connecting with family members during a time of tragedy can be major. We know that to be true given the stories of those on the doomed flights, in the Trade Center or Pentagon, who called home one last time.

Did they have three minutes to make those calls? While the length may be unknown, the impact of the connections remains timeless and invaluable. Who would you call? What would you say?

September 2024

“Smoke Fire,” 6″ x 9″ Watercolor Copyright © 2015 By Donna Lyons

By Marty Coffin Evans

I remember two calls that day. “Marty, do you know that Claraboya’s burning?” A little later another called, “Do you know Webb Canyon’s on fire? Is your home okay?” In both cases, I said “No” thinking I surely would have heard something from my husband or someone else about a fire in this California hillside area.

With growing concern, I left work not knowing what I’d find. When I reached the intersection to head up the hillside to our condo, the blocked road prevented me from going further. Several police and fire personnel routed concerned residents away from the hillside.

Knowing my dogs, Beau and Brummel, were in our condo, I became frantic. I wanted to go to my home and see if my dogs were okay. About that time, as my voice escalated in desperation and frustration, my husband David appeared “convincing” me to leave. I could say, he hauled me away!

Having no ability to get to our home, we went to nearby Tugboat Annie’s for dinner and waited for the closed road to re-open.  That night was also the first meeting for my advanced degree program. With no reason not to attend class, I headed to the college campus after dinner. I don’t remember much about that first evening as concentrating became difficult as I worried about my home and dogs.

When the class ended, I headed home grateful that I could drive there unimpeded. It all smelled very smoky outside and around our condo. Because of how we always secured our place (Fort Knox like we used to joke), no smoke had made it into our home. It smelled fresh without a hint of the fire.

The next morning, we looked out the back door on a charred landscape. Webb Canyon, behind our backyard, had functioned like a chimney moving the flames and smoke up and above us. Our two units would have been destroyed had the fire changed direction moving directly over us.

Had we been there during this fire, what would we have taken when asked to evacuate? What would we have grabbed as we frantically headed out the door?

Where were those special photo albums? Were any of the pictures on a computer? Did we have time to grab sentimental items – jewelry, anything small? Where did we keep those important documents?

What items held the most value – real or sentimental? Which of our things defined or described us?

We didn’t have to make those hasty decisions that day. Our condo, contents and furry friends remained unscathed.

Years later, friends talked about the strange items they grabbed when evacuating their home as the flames approached. She took a curling iron and hair dryer.

Later she commented their detailed evacuation plan remained on their computers. It became destroyed along with all the contents of their home.

Mother Nature provides us with unexpected challenges when natural disasters strike. Ready or not, plans or no plans, we’re confronted with what we would take as we flee our homes not knowing what we would find upon our return.

If I had to live our own California hillside fire experience again, I’m not sure I’d know what to take. Would you?

Copyright © 2018 By Marty Coffin Evans

August 2024