A year ago today, my son Adam called: “Don’t worry, Mom. We’re all packed and ready to go.” I was baffled. “Go? Go where?”
“We gotta get out of the way of what’s coming over the mountain, Mom. It’s getting way too hot here. And the smoke’s horrible. Even worse than the Worthington fire.” The Worthington Fire?? “We didn’t want to worry you, Mom, but yeah, the Worthington fire burned more than 800 acres near us a few weeks ago. That fire was bad, but not like this one.”
For months, I’d been avoiding the news— the covid pandemic, the mass shootings, the impending presidential election; instead, I spent quiet days writing my book at my Pennsylvania farm. I had no idea what was happening out west. But with one phone call from my son, everything changed. “How close is it? Where will you go? Is there a safe place for you to stay?”
“Don’t panic, Mom. I’ve already filled the cars with gas. Deanna’s packed the bags and grabbed some food and water. I don’t know where we’ll go yet, but we’ll be okay.” My heart was beating way too fast. How would they be okay? I closed my eyes tight and saw my kids in Eagle Point, Oregon on their 20 acre farm surrounded by old-growth forest. I saw their two dogs, 4 llamas, 5 pygmy goats and 13 chickens with them up on the mountain, a mile from the the highway.
“I hosed down the house, the shop, and the garden, Mom. Deanna’s opened the gate so the animals won’t be trapped–whatever happens. Sheriff’s here Mom. Gotta go.” I hung up the phone, and willed myself to calm down
Several hours later, Adam called again. He, Deanna and the dogs were at a friend’s house in Sam Valley, sixteen miles from where they lived. “Don’t worry, Mom. We’re near a river, so if we have to, we can jump in the water.” Jump in the water??
That night, as I lay in bed, wide awake, I felt the heat, saw the flames. Without warning, it was 1981 and I was in Cairo doing my World Bank job, three months pregnant, a week after President Anwar Sadat was assassinated by members of the Egyptian Islamic Jihad. Despite the threat of violence, it never occurred to me not to go.
My last night night in Cairo, I had dinner with a British-Egyptian couple and their gregarious ten-year-old son Adam who had a story to tell: “There was a big military parade last week, where President Sadat was going to review the troops. My friend, his dad, and I went to the parade and sat on the platform with the President.” He looked at me brightly, still proud to have been so honored. “We were too excited to sit down. From the platform, we watched the planes do acrobatics in the air. We watched the paratroopers. We cheered as the soldiers drove their tanks down the street to where the President was standing and saluting. Once they got there, the troops turned to face us on the platform. Then there was a huge noise and commotion . People started screaming. Chairs fell over. Soldiers from one of the tanks were shooting the President!. I watched my friend jump up on a chair to take a picture. When I shouted, “Get down!” he was gone. So, I got down on the ground, pulled a chair over my head, and stayed there until a policeman came and took me home.”
“Eleven people died from bullet wounds,” Adam’s mother told me. “We were grateful Adam was quick and smart enough to duck for cover.”That night, I lay in bed wide awake, and saw tanks turning toward the platform, bullets flying, Sadat falling, and 10-year-old Adam taking cover under a chair. I promised myself that if my baby was a boy, I’d name him Adam. A prayer that whatever came, my son would survive.
Now, almost forty years later, I’m on the phone with my son. “Here’s what’s going on, Mom. After not sleeping at all last night, we realized we had to go back to the property real quick–just to see what happened while we were gone, feed the animals, water the plants, move stuff away from the house, while we still could. There was a lot of smoke by then, but it wasn’t until we started to leave that we realized the fire was heading toward us. We took off down the highway in such dark smoke, we couldn’t see the road. We sped through flames in 45 mph winds, gusts so strong they pushed my car into the next lane, so hot they left my face red and sore. Trees crashed down. If even one of those trees had blocked the road, caused us to slow down or stop, well . . ..” I gasped.
“Don’t worry, Mom, we’re safe . . . at least for now.”
But the fire still burned– and continued to burn throughout the night.
What a dramatic scene, so hope Adam remained safe, global warming has certainly appeared….
Yes, the impact of climate changeg has become terribly personal after this experience. I’ll be telling the rest of the story in my next couple of posts. Thanks so much for reading and commenting, Jill! I hope you are safe and well in Auckland?
Egypt and Sadat’s assassination is captured so well in your book. The brave kid who was there and survived and your son’s name. A fabulous juncture in your journey
Thank you, Richard! Egypt had a very big impact on me all those years ago. Many stories from that time that I had to leave out of the book, but this one I had to include!! And thanks for reading and commenting! Such motivation to keep writing. In fact, I hope to have Part Two of this story ready to post in a couple of days!
Olá
Que horror ver um filho envolvido numa cena tão dramática eu ficava com o coação nas mãos!
Ainda bem que todos se salvaram.
Mas a casa dele?
Os animais?
Bjs aos dois,já estão cá em Portugal?
Sim, foi muito assustador! Em breve contarei o resto da história. Eu prometo! Estamos muito felizes por estar de volta a Portugal.
E estamos ansiosos para vê-lo em breve.
Obrigado por ler !! Beijinhos,
Wonderful writing of some impressive memories! Thank you for sharing these.
Thank you so much, Robin!
Very enjoyable. Thank you.
Thanks for reading, Kit!
Thank you for writing Jerri!
Well done! We had no idea how terse and dramatic our communications sounded.
Just letting you know we were not surrounded by old growth forest. Area was logged at least 30 years ago. It is oak savannah, madrone and a little bit of ponderosa pine. The doug for and incense cedar are retreating higher due to heat and drought and most likely will not return. All other species are rebounding. Now BLM are attempting to ‘salvage log’ which is not ideal for regeneration.
By the way: seu portugues é realmente maravilhoso.
Love, Deanna
Thank you for reading, Deanna! (And also for helping me get my story straight!! Well, you’ll have more opportunities, because I plan to post Wild Fire Parts Two and Three over the next couple of weeks!! Stay tuned!! Much love, Jerri
Powerful writing, Jerri!
Thanks so much for reading, Melanie. This has been tough stuff to write about–a mother’s angst about her kids’ at risk. But then you know a lot about writing the tough stuff. And thanks for commenting, too. The back-and-forth a blog makes possible is heartening!
Que experiência tão traumática!
Fico ansiosa por ler o resto da história.
Gosto muito de ler os seus textos, Jerri!
Feliz regresso a Portugal!
Já cá estão?
Obrigada, Bela! Sim, foi uma experiência traumática. E escrever sobre isso também não é fácil! Mas vou continuar. Chegámos ao Porto da Espada há uma semana. Foi difícil deixar a nossa quinta na Pensilvânia, mas estamos muito felizes por estarmos em Portugal. Estaremos aqui até o Natal. Esperamos ver você e Miguel novamente em breve !!
Beijinhos, Jerri
Thank you for writing about it!
We would never have got through this year without your generosity Jerri!
I hope it gets expressed what an angel you are!
Love you!
What miraculous stories, Jerri- and so beautifully told.
The events were traumatic to live through but perhaps found resolution in your telling of them?
I am so impressed by your Portuguese.
Miss you. Where are you?
Thanks so much — both for reading and commenting–Mary! It’s interesting to be writing stories of things happening recently as opposed to all the stories I’ve written in my book about the thirty years I worked at the World Bank . . . which happily I’ve finished now and publication date is (at least tentatively!) November 23, 2021! We are in Portugal now. We have a small house in a tiny village in the Alentejo and we are trying to spend several months a year here. And where are you and Mike??
I had no idea that’s where Adam got his name! Very powerful
Thank you, Aura! It’s hard to believe there are still stories I haven’t told you!! Big hugs, Jerri