The Fire Within Us

It seems every time we turn on the news, I see another community facing a

catastrophe. Wildfires in the West.  Flooding in the East. Hurricanes, tornadoes, and

storms that forever change someone's life in a matter of minutes.  It's easy to feel

overwhelmed.

As an insurance professional, I've witnessed many of these events through my

work.  As a daughter, homeowner, and member of my community, I've experienced

them from a much more personal perspective.

Looking back, I realized this year marks nine years since the Tubbs Fire and five

years since the Caldor Fire.  Those two events changed my perspective in ways I

never expected.

The Tubbs Fire began while I was on the trip of a lifetime, an African safari.

I remember it as though it were yesterday!

This photo was taken as we crossed the Equator on our way to Ngorongoro Crater.

At the time, I had no idea my cousin's iPad would soon chime with news alerts

that would forever connect this beautiful place with one of the most difficult

memories of home.

"A fire broke out in Santa Rosa." My heart immediately sank.

  "That's where my dad and stepmom live" I said. "Kid Street Charter is in Santa

Rosa, too."

For the rest of the day, I tried to focus on the amazing beauty surrounding me, the

wildlife, the landscape, the adventure, yet my mind kept drifting back home.

 Later that evening, once we reached our lodge, I was finally able to reach my

mother.  The news wasn't what any of us wanted to hear.

My dad and stepmother had lost their home in Santa Rosa's Fountaingrove

neighborhood.  Soon afterward, the fire crossed Highway 101 into Coffee Park,

where many friends also lost everything, they had worked so hard to build.

At the time the fire broke out, my dad was home alone while my stepmother had

an out-of-town engagement. He escaped with little more than the clothes he was

wearing, his workout watch, and an old 49ers transistor radio that had been sitting

by the door waiting to be donated to Goodwill. It's funny how, in moments like that,

the things our hands find aren't always the most valuable, they're simply what

happens to be within reach and what we think might come in handy.

Years later, that little radio means something entirely different to me.  It reminds

me of afternoons spent with my dad at San Francisco 49er games, listening to the

excitement of the crowd and sharing memories that no wildfire could ever take

away.  The house was lost, but those memories never will be. 

Being thousands of miles away was one of the hardest parts.  Each night, or

rather, each early morning, my phone would ring around 1:00 a.m., which was

about 9:00 a.m. back home.  Clients, friends, and family were calling to share what

had happened.  My roommate would quietly wake up and ask, "Another call?"

I felt helpless being so far away, yet I did what I could from Africa, directing people to my

office, their insurance companies, and anyone who could begin helping them.

Looking back, one conversation has stayed with me all these years.

Just before leaving on my trip, I had called a restaurant client in Glen Ellen who

was preparing to open a brand-new restaurant.  I wanted to let them know I would

be out of the country for two weeks and suggested that, if they were ready, we

should issue their insurance policy before I left. I wanted to make sure everything

was in place rather than having someone unfamiliar with their account step in while

I was away.

Like many business owners, they were hesitant.  No one enjoys paying for

insurance before they absolutely need to.

After talking it through, they agreed.  Four days later, the Tubbs Fire broke out.

Their beautiful new restaurant suffered significant smoke damage, delaying its

grand opening. While there was concern and uncertainty, there wasn't the added

heartbreak of discovering they had no insurance.  One decision, made just days

earlier, meant they could begin focusing on recovery instead of wondering what

would come next.

That experience has stayed with me, not because it was about insurance, but

because it reminded me that preparation is about protecting people and what they

have worked so hard to build.

Ironically, just a few months before the Tubbs Fire, I had purchased a small

getaway home in the foothills of El Dorado County.  At the time, I imagined it as a

peaceful escape from the Bay Area, a place to relax, recharge and spend time with

friends.  I had no idea it would one day become my permanent home.

  As so….Life continued to move forward. The pandemic arrived. I remarried, and

we made Placerville our full-time home.

Then, in 2021, everything changed again.  The Caldor Fire broke out, and this time

I wasn't watching the news from another continent.

I remember calling my friend Melanie as the fire continued to grow.  We stayed in

touch throughout the weekend, and I told her that if she needed somewhere to

evacuate, she was welcome to stay with us. Only this time, little did I know we would soon be evacuating ourselves, loading our dogs into the car and wondering whether we'd have a home to return to.

For nearly a month, we lived out of suitcases.  First with my mom, then with dear

friends in Reno who graciously opened their home to us and our two dogs.

We were among the fortunate ones.  We came home.  Many others did not.

Today, one of my favorite summer fundraisers takes place every Saturday from

June through August, “Burger Night” off of Grizzly Flat Road.  While the proceeds will

help build a Grizzly Flats Community Center, what I see is something even greater.

I see neighbors helping neighbors, I see volunteers serving meals, I see friendships

growing.

I've learned that communities aren't rebuilt by lumber and concrete alone.

 They're rebuilt by people who continue to show up for one another.

The Tubbs Fire changed my family.  The Caldor Fire changed my community.  Both

changed me.

The smoke never really clears.  The reminders are always there.  For those who

lived through it, for the families who lost homes, and for the communities that

continue to heal.  Yet through it all, the spirit of the people who refuse to let

tragedy define them remains.

This reflection is dedicated to everyone who has lost a home, a business,

treasured possessions, or someone they love.  It is also dedicated to our

firefighters, first responders, animal rescuers, neighbors, insurance professionals,

volunteers, and communities who continue to help others find their footing after

unimaginable loss.

Wildfire may forever change the landscape, but they can never extinguish the fire

within us.

So, Along the Way...

  None of us knows what tomorrow will bring. We prepare the best we can,

treasure the moments we share with those we love, and hope we'll never face life's

unexpected challenges.  But if those moments come, may we remember that while

not everything can be replaced, compassion, resilience, and community have a

remarkable way of showing up and helping us move forward.

As We Continue Down the Road...

  I invite you to join me for more stories along The Creative Road, inspired by life,

business, creativity, and the experiences behind Highway 50 Insurance

Resource and  TuneStone Jewelry.

Whether you're looking for helpful resources, exploring your insurance options, or

simply searching for a little inspiration, I hope you'll find something of value along

your own road.

The Melody Behind This Story

'Livin' on a Prayer' by Bon Jovi felt like the perfect melody for this one.

Every Creative Road story has a melody.