Sometimes the lights all shinin’ on me,
Other times I can barely see.
Lately it occurs to me,
What a long, strange trip it’s been.
– Jerry Garcia
Hello Friends,
Well, it’s been a year since the fire – the longest, strangest year of my life.
I’m not sure why we humans are so compelled to remember anniversaries – perhaps it helps us see how far we have come, to remember what was lost, and take a moment from our hectic, forward-thinking lives to stop, and reflect.
Personally, I’m not big on anniversaries. I don’t mark the passing of my father, or my brother, or of any of my beloved pets. It’s not because I don’t think about them – just the opposite. I tend to dwell on things too much, I get morbid and mope around. It’s better for me to be busy. So on September 6th, I will be working – giving a presentation in another state. I’m sure I’ll stop and remember that it was on this day that my house burned down, but I’ll be too busy to mope.
A few days after the anniversary of the fire, on September 11th, our local United Way is sponsoring a dinner for Four Mile Fire Survivors – an odd choice of dates, to be sure. It’s the tenth anniversary of 9/11.
We all remember that day – The planes hit the towers, and they burned and fell, along with our optimism, our momentum, and our economy. And there’s still a hole in the ground where the Towers stood, and for many of us, a hole in our hearts, left from that day.
So here we all are, ten years later, still recovering, emotionally and financially, from 9/11. And here I am, a year later, recovering from my own small version of that, my own little disaster. For in the grand scheme of things, it is a small tragedy, like the small, daily disasters that each of us face in our lives. Planes crash, towers fall, we lose a loved one or a home, or a way of life, and our personal world turns on its axis, never to return to the old rotation. Our lives spin on, with a new trajectory – one that is strange and dizzying for a while, and then we adjust.
A fellow fire survivor in Idaho was asked to write a piece about how she had “triumphed over adversity” since her house burned down. She had mixed feelings about this, as do I. It occurs to me that as much as we’d like to think we can “triumph” over adversity, what we really do is adapt. We get used to the rocking ship and the rough seas, and hope we can make it through this storm to a better place. And when we get to that place, have we triumphed? I’m not sure.
But I do know that grief and loss and unwelcomed change are part and parcel of this life on Earth, as are joy and love and celebration. Like the tides, like the waxing and waning moon, we all go through times of light and dark, of ebb and flow, and Death is always the Great Teacher. As my father used to say, it all ends some day, and as you go through life, “You can cry, or you can sing.” Well, most days I do a little of both.
It is a year after the fire, and we have just finished pouring the foundation for my new house. My new, smaller house will rise, as will the new, smaller World Trade Center. There are still holes in the ground where the Twin Towers stood, but soon they will become lovely fountains, filled with water that will sing and dance and soothe the hearts of millions. A new foundation, a beautiful fountain – the building blocks of a new life. And you know what? It’s a start.
Sending You Good Thoughts in This Season of Anniversaries,
Andi
Andi –
I’ve been thinking of you as this anniversary approached. I recommended your blog as reading over at DTWOF for the folks dealing with the aftermath of Irene flooding, as there are more similarities than differences when a drastic change is forced upon us via the forces of nature or the actions of folks wishing us harm.
I wish you peace and hope on 9/6 and days beyond.
The newly-poured foundation is both physically and metaphorically a new beginning, a new chapter in your life. When the house is finally rebuilt and you move in, there will be a moment when you are sitting there with Nellie on your lap and you will say out loud, “We are home.” And you will get to sing that Grateful Dead song out loud and laugh and hug Nellie and shed a few tears.
Shortly thereafter, you will be writing the book. I am still voting for Meryl Streep to play you in the movie.
Found your blog after you commented on DTWOF blog quite a while back. What a beautiful photo montage, and you used some of my favorite music. I’m still wiping the tears. Wishing you continued healing and strength.
What a year you have had–and what a journey. I love what you say about adapting to tragedy instead of triumphing. Astute as always. Here’s to your new house!
Hello Andi,
That was so beautifully done! You will likely always carry the pain of losing your home, but I wish for you that the new one is filled with love, caring, and peace. And happy barking from Nellie when friends arrive.
Best wishes,
Jodi
Andi,
I was thinking about you this weekend when I was in Denver. I made it to the top of Mt. Evans, went to the Denver Botanical Gardens and topped the weekend off by going to see Les Miserables.. Our neighborhood is going to be a media circus this week. I assume that I will wake up the news crews in front or close by my house.. The city of San Bruno is having a remembrance on Friday the 9th(our 1st year anniversary) and then hosting a BBQ in the park on Sunday Sept 11th of all days.
Here’s to a new year..
Marla Shelmadine
San Bruno, CA
Andi, that was a beautiful post. It seems that rebuilding is a lesson in patience, since your new foundation is just now going in. And then, finishing the house and moving in will be its own adjustment. I too prefer the word “adapt” to the word “triumph.”
Andi, you have a new foundation! What a wonderful slide show and perfect music. I’m so happy for you.
Andi, the video in this post is one of the most touching I’ve ever seen–the photos, the music, and especially Nellie! A gem within the gem of your post. I’m so glad I know you! In fact, your entire blog is amazing in design and content. WOW!
Andi,
I hope your new construction goes well. Building has its own kind of stresses that are difficult enough to deal with and I hope your team can help with that. My client’s house is coming along but we can’t forget every time we look out that the house sits in a sea of black, denuded trees. I have been trying to think of some way to incorporate them into the house or the immediate landscape so they don’t seem so foreign, so forbidding.
Good luck.
M
Andi, these photographs are incredible. Thank you for sharing….
Bless,
Kristina
My son who lives in Boulder emailed me the link to the NPR interview. My husband and I listened to it and thought how nice it is to hear your voice instead of just reading a blog. It has been a year since my husband lost his job. In six months, it will be the anniversary of losing our house. Life goes on, but it will never be the same. This is a journey I would never have chosen for myself, however the person I am when I come out on the other side is probably the person I was meant to become. Like steel forged in a fire.
Andi – that was absolutely, utterly beautiful.
Thanks Gregorio!