Fiddling while home burns

My heart remains full from last week’s Laker gathering in Saratoga in honor of my brother’s milestone birthday. Being able to spend a couple of nights with friends we have shared since middle school is a gift none of us take for granted.  

We’re very, very lucky.

The timing of my brother’s birthday coincided beautifully with a show which my sweetie played in on Saturday night in Saratoga. This show was, in fact, the reason we decided to celebrate in Saratoga, rather than seeking a property large enough to host 17 people in a different area of the state. Although N. was the only one of our gang actually performing in a gig, a couple of the other guys brought their guitars along for the weekend.

What can I say? I hang with rockstars.

During the time we shared, guitars were brought out numerous times and spontaneous jams ensued. The guys played out back on our patio and in the spacious living room, providing a backdrop to the weekend’s festivities. The music also distracted from a situation which distressingly worsened as the weekend passed – the wildfire in our hometown, Greenwood Lake.

When I first learned about the fire, I mistakenly thought it was confined to New Jersey. As more information became available, my misimpression was corrected – this fire was very much on the New York State side of the line. And, it was bad. Thousands of acres were at risk.

While “home” is 100 miles away from where I’ve made a home for 35+ years, the images I’ve seen have hit pretty hard. The small village where I grew up is tucked between a couple of mountains and features a 9 mile long lake. With hiking trails, including those of the Appalachian Trail, and acres of undeveloped woods, it’s a beautiful area. Watching the east shore mountains burn has been deeply unsettling. 

Communication between Saratoga and Greenwood Lake amped up on Sunday as one member of our group struggled to reach her parent who still resides in the home of her childhood, a house which is located in an area which has been repeatedly threatened with potential evacuation orders. After finally making contact, she learned that her mom had been outside diligently wetting down her home and surrounding property. 

Shit is real.

I have lived a lucky life and have limited experience with true disasters, natural or otherwise. There have been no significant earthquakes, floods or hurricanes in my past and, despite the miles (and years) between my younger life in Greenwood Lake and now, this fire feels very close. I spent a couple of summers as a mother’s helper and the family I was with lived on the east shore of the lake. The street names and neighborhoods remain familiar to me and, earlier this year, I drove those very roads to introduce my beau to where I come from.

After a week of burning the fire is now about 75% contained. No homes have been lost, although a man younger than my youngest child, died fighting the fire. My heart aches for the animals who have forced from their homes and everyone who has been threatened by this disaster for what must seem like ages. The smoke, the sound of helicopters scooping water from the lake, the reds and oranges of flames and sirens…I can’t imagine it will be easy for anyone who has witnessed the events of the past weeks to forget.

It’s been a lot of years since we lived in Greenwood Lake – ironically, my brother and I initially moved away after a house fire left us without a home. As the situation with the Jennings Creek fire unfolded this week, I found myself longing to go home, back to where I first met the very people with whom I had shared the recent holiday weekend. The memory of being in the company of my oldest friends as the fire raged, under skies scented by smoke despite the 150 miles distance from home, will remain with me forever.

Play on, friends.