A Little Look Into My Life Right Now

“They say that these are not the best of times, but they’re the only times I’ve ever known…”  – Billy Joel, “Summer, Highland Falls.”

Hello Friends,

This afternoon I took a break from working at home in my cottage, and walked up to the Main Office in Chautauqua to get the mail. This is one of the highlights of my day, these days, getting the mail.

The Administrative Building at Chautauqua sits on a little hill in the middle of the Park. It’s a tan clapboard building that dates back to 1900, and over the front door it says, “Academic Building.”  Inside is a lovely little sitting room with high ceilings, Western furniture, and a row of antique mailboxes that look like they’re from some old Post Office.  Each day, Nellie and I walk up and check the mail, and say hi to Connie and Kathleen – the office staff, and to Bert, the Property Manager.

Getting the mail is Nellie’s favorite thing to do these days as well.  She LOVES Bert. He is her Current Favorite Person Besides Mom.  All I have to say is, “Want to go see Bert?” and she leaps up and runs to the kitchen door, wagging furiously.  Bert and the gals at the desk have a stash of dog cookies, and Nellie rushes into the office each afternoon to visit.

Today Nellie was searching around for Bert, who was tucked away in his back office. “Bert’s kinda busy right now, Nellie,” said Connie, petting Nellie on the head.  Then Bert’s voice boomed out from the back, “Who could be too busy for NELLIE?!” and out he came.  He kneeled down on the floor and petted Nellie while she wagged wildly and licked him all over the face.  “Nellie is the only dog he gets on the floor for,” Connie said in a low voice, chuckling. Bert laughed and said, “Who wouldn’t get down on the floor for NELLIE?!” Kiss kiss wag wag.

When I tell Bert that he is a gentleman and a scholar, he says he is actually a “Prince in Training.” Training be darned, Bert is royalty in my book. He moved heaven and earth to get Nellie and me into Chautauqua, made sure my cottage was stocked with dishes and linens, and always makes me feel comfortable and welcomed.  He gets it that most of us Fire People feel like stunned sheep right now, and we are doing our best just to keep walking and talking each day.  He and the staff here understand that we are homeless and raw and rather fragile at times. They cheer us on; they hold us in their hearts.

Sometimes, getting the mail is like Christmas.  On other days, it’s like Hell. Most days, it’s a little of both.

I dig into the mailbox and see that it is stuffed with envelopes from various companies. I take the stack and walk over to the reception desk, where they have a recycling bin, and borrow an opener from Connie. I read some of the mail out loud to her as I open it –  “Dear Fire Victim, – Oh, that’s a good one,” I say as I toss it into the recycling. “Dear Displaced Homeowner – Well, that’s not so bad…”  And on and on. There is a huge stack of mail from trades people from all over the country – Contractors, builders, architects, carpenters, plumbers, storage companies, realtors, tile companies, wood workers, demolition companies, window installers, heating and cooling companies, and claims adjusters. Their brochures say things like, “Who can you trust after a disaster?” and “Let us build your dream!” and “I can handle your insurance claim for you!”  Everyone wants to get a little piece of the Four Mile Fire Victim action.

I open one and read out loud to Connie, “Dear Fire Victim, We are so sorry for your loss…”  “Sorry!” I snort, “Yeah, you’re not sorry at all, you just want to SELL ME something.”  I push the pile over to Connie and she scoops them up with a grin. “Into the bin they go!” she says.  I walk back to the cottage with Nellie, and open the rest of the mail. There are only three pieces of “real” mail left.

First, a large manila envelope from my cousin Nonie Newton-Breen, who is an actress in LA and does a comedy show called “Late Night Catechism.” I call Nonie “Newt Girl” and she calls me “Favorite Cuz.” Inside the envelope is a DVD, and a short letter from her. Here is what she wrote:

Dear Favorite Cuz –

I am with Mom and Dad in Tucson. We spent the day digging through family photos, scanned and burned to this DVD. Lots of pics of your dad – large group of Newts at beach, loved the one of your Dad dancing with Mom at her wedding. Frosty is in California but will check when she gets home for more.

Mad love to you —

Nonz and the Old Ones

Nonie always calls her parents, “The Old Ones”, which cracks me up.  I look at the DVD and am so touched that my Aunt Anne and Uncle Bill, who are in their 80’s, spent an entire day digging through family pictures for me.

I put aside Nonie’s envelope and look at the rest. There is a letter from Jake Jabs, the owner of American Furniture Warehouse in Denver.  I sigh and think, “Not another promotion.” To my surprise, it reads,

“Please accept my sympathy on the fire that leveled your home. I myself have had two fires and I know the loss of absolutely everything is so very difficult… My hope is that the enclosed gift card may lift your spirits while providing some spending dollars as you put your lives and homes back together.” – Jake Jabs, CEO

Inside is a gift card for $500, good in any American Furniture Warehouse store.

I am stunned. Do I know Jake Jabs? No. Has he done a big promotion, touting his “help for the fire victims?” Not that I know of.  He’s just a guy who has been through fire, like me, and wants to help. Wow.

The last letter is from the power company, who is refunding my September utility bill in the amount of $77.55. I guess because there was NO HOUSE there in September to get the power. It’s actually a nice letter, and it talks about how the crews who worked to restore power after the fire were “inspired by the resilient spirits of the residents they had the privilege to meet.”

I remember meeting one of those guys when I was up on the mountain the week after the fire. It was about 95 degrees up there that day, and the guy from the power company was covered in ash and black soot, and looked shell-shocked as he walked among downed trees and melted power lines. I bet he felt like he had been up there forever. I know I did. He asked if I was going to rebuild in the same spot, and I said, “Yes.” Did I ever think about selling out and moving to town? he asked. “Not for a minute,” I said. He smiled a crooked, sad smile and said, “You folks up here are amazing. God bless you.”

“God bless YOU,” I said, patting him on the arm. “This can’t be easy work.”  “No, it’s not,” he said grimly, and climbed back in his truck to go help put up more power lines for the few surviving homes at the top of the hill.

I stuff all the mail into Nonie’s big envelope and toss it on the table.  I think I’ll bring this with me tonight when I go out to dinner with some of my friends.  I’ll show them the DVD, and the gift card from Jake Jabs, and the letter from the power company.  We’ll eat and laugh and share our troubles, and the world will be a better place for our laughter.  I will take this slice of my life and share it ’round —  the agony and the ecstasy, the strange and surprising Gifts of Fire.

For this is My Life Right Now; burnt and broken yet mending, slowly, as my heart turns on the wheel of pain and loss, as the seasons change, and I walk through another day, another afternoon, another evening — another small chapter in my small story.

Sending You Good Thoughts,

Andi and Nellie

New Grass Growing in the Burned Meadow