Hope Is Always "Here"

We watched it together as a family. That wasn't unusual, as we do watch various shows together, but there's not too many movies that we all agree on.

And this one wasn't necessarily agreed upon at first; our youngest Bryce usually doesn't like the movies that Mom and Dad pick out. Our oldest Beatrice doesn't feel the same way, but it's still harder to align likability for all of us. 

Everyone seemed interested in this one, though. The movie was Here starring Tom Hanks and Robin Wright and the reviews were not very good. There was still something intriguing about it with the primary movie scene set in the same place over time: a living room with a big window to the world beyond. There was also something Wes Anderson-esque about that, which is why Bryce and me really liked the way it was filmed. It was also based on a graphic novel by Richard McGuire, something both our artist teens like, especially Beatrice. 

The story itself focused more on one family over time, but the movie didn't always work. What did work was the theme and it resonated with all of us. The theme for us, of loving where you live and who you live it with -- "here". Bryce and I cried; we are the family criers, that's for sure. Amy (Mom) and Beatrice are feelers, just not criers. 

While we watched together, Beatrice laid on Amy and Bryce laid on me. This "here" for me has always been special. We've lived here for nearly 19 years and are grateful for every moment that we've had in this house. We lived here before we decided to have children. Bryce was born in this house. Beatrice was supposed to be. Our kids have grown up in this house (and continue to). They shared a room until middle school, and after some renovating, now each has their own. 

We've lived in every inch of this house. We've loved, laughed, cried, screamed, brooded, and laughed and loved some more. There's no other place we'd rather be than here while the world keeps spinning outside our front window. That spinning "here" includes the community we live in, the state we live in, the country we live in, the world we live in. We're Americans who love our "here".

But our "here" is in danger; we've never lived in fear until now. American democracy has certainly had its challenges and setbacks, but today it's being transformed from the inside-out by a fast-moving coup that's doing everything it can to take away our civil rights, our education, our livelihoods, and our safety, all for the sake of oppressive power and control. Even those who supported it all and who think these changes will benefit them will lose it all in the end, too. 

That's the point -- that we all lose in the end except for a wealthy few. And in the meantime, these dismantling actions are supposed to make your head spin. To make you scared. To paralyze you. To make you give up. But we stand tall where you are and stay vigilant. Fight the good fights about human rights when and where you can. Speak up, speak out, and speak truth for a better bigger picture. 

Today, our morning meditation mantra was this: Hope is my source of strength. It provides the endurance needed for positive and sustained change. As I look around our house and out our window, I know that hope is always "here", and our family is all in. 

Loving Community Wide Shots Abound

The beep woke me. The camper kitchen fan remained on, but everything else was still and dark, inside and outside. I knew then that the power had gone out in our camper and the campground. No one else in my family stirred. 

I reached for my phone. It lit up when I touched the screen, revealing the time of 3:30 AM, and a text and a missed call. The text was the fact that our home motion alarm had gone off at 10:30 PM, five hours earlier. The missed called was the alarm company. That meant that, since we didn't cancel the alarm, they would've called 911. 

My first thought was to check our doorbell video camera, but since the wifi was out at the campground, and we had no cell service where our site was in the campground, that wasn't going to happen. Maybe I should walk to the front of the campground where I'll get service, I thought. 

My mind raced. Did someone break into our house? Our neighbors who were home were looking out for those who weren't, but that thought brought the sick feeling of being violated, of things trashed and lost. Burglary and looting were top of mind for those evacuated and those just getting out of the smoke due to the CZU August Lightning Complex fires burning in our areas. We've all been so stressed of late due to the fires, coronavirus and civil unrest. 

"What's wrong?" my wife Amy asked. She was awake. Good.

"Our house alarm went off last night at 10:30," I said. 

The power went back on in the campground, and a few minutes later wifi was back up. I checked our video camera footage, and sure enough, two police officers had rung our doorbell shortly after our alarm went off. That sick feeling throbbed again. 

"I need to go check the house," I said. 

"Yes, you should," Amy said.

We were only about 25 minutes from home, but it was far enough for us to get out of the smoke for a couple of nights. Smoke that still permeated much of the Westside of Santa Cruz where we live. We had been prepped to evacuate, but were fortunate that we didn't have to. Going to the campground with our camper was our choice. For nearly 80,000 people in our area, it was not a choice. We were grateful to be able to donate some bedding and other items for evacuees the day before, volunteering at one of the donation centers for evacuees and helping to sort donations.  

As I drove back to our house at 4 AM, that sick feeling grew. I thought about the time in college when I rented a house with three other guys. It was near the holidays and we had a house party. There were people there we didn't know, but hey, we were partying and all was well. The next day after we had all gone off to classes and jobs, our house was broken into. Our rooms ransacked. All the Christmas presents I had bought for my family were gone, along with other valuables, never to be recovered.

As I got closer to home, the feeling of being violated fed my fear and anger. Earlier in the week in our neighborhood, there had been a shirtless guy wearing shorts, a baseball cap and a scarf covering his mouth and nose, riding his bike around and calling out, "Here kitty kitty." He claimed to be an evacuee from the mountains and was looking for his cat he had brought with him, but his story changed after talking with other neighbors of ours. We were all convinced he was casing our houses, seeing who was house and who wasn't. There were others as well going down our street. Plus, we already had an RV homeless camp across the highway from our neighborhood that had been growing for weeks. And there had already been looters arrested in the mountain community above us, and one who had stolen from a firefighter. 

I pulled into the driveway and everything looked fine. My wife had texted if everything was okay. Beatrice was up too and texted she loved me. I texted back I was home. We had left the porch light on even though we have motion-activated lights. There was a package on our porch that had been delivered the day before. I was surprised it was still there. I picked it up and held it like a weapon. Later when I opened it, it was cookies from the RV dealer we had bought our camper from, so I was going to bludgeon the intruder with chocolate chip cookies. 

I unlocked the door and stepped inside. I turned off the alarm, the package held tightly in my other hand. Nothing askew inside. Everything was how we left it. Our rabbit was in his cage in the living room staring at me and chewing hay quietly. I checked the rest of the house -- all was well. Relief washed away the sick feeling. I fed our rabbit some vegetables, locked up and headed back to the campground with the cookies. 

I let our neighbors know what had happened with our alarm and that I had come home to check on things. Everyone who was home continued to keep an eye out for each other, just as the greater community where we live -- civilians, law enforcement and firefighters alike -- all doing their best to keep each other safe and to help each other. There has been an outpouring of donations and volunteers -- donations that are still needed for the 40,000 who still remain evacuated. 

In the midst of so much fear and loathing today, driven by singular events, short sensational clips and soundbites, loving community wide shots abound. Like those continuing to mobilize and help one another because of fires, hurricanes, COVID-19, racial injustice and more. 

Bless you all and your communities. 

Other "Days of Coronavirus" posts:

A Foundation Worth Saving

This Hit-And-Run Thunderstorm

Help Prevent the Back-to-School Bullying

Memories Now and to Come

Especially Our Kids

This Old "No" Guy Jedi

Choose Eyes of Love

The Morning Work

We Shared Blue Genes

Agree to Disintegration

The Teacher Parade

All These Things Can Lead To Grace

Our Freedom Is Always Welcome

A Well of Strength

This Bad History

No Shirts, No Shoes, No Problem

The Iceberg Underneath

The Healing Hope We Can Give

Donate Your Date Nights and Help Feed Families

About All The Things

Dad, Our Family's Computer Guy

The Newest Normal

Where Our Troubles Are All The Same

This Is The Life

When There's Nowhere to Go

Jenny, Jenny, Who Can I Turn To

A Foundation Worth Saving

The first time we experienced a possible evacuation due to a wildfire, we had no time to think about what to take. Within 10 minutes, we packed a few clothes, some toiletries, loaded our safe filled with important family documents, our computers and iPads, and had the girls pack a few of their personal items (as calmly as possible). We had guinea pigs then, but weren't sure what to do about them. 

Their cage would have fit in the car, so that wasn't a problem, but if we ended up stranded somewhere, there was no way we could keep them in the car. It would be too hot. And the eventual smell of course; guinea pigs sit in their own pee and poop. Maybe we could drop them off at a friend's house. Or maybe we just couldn't take them with us. Thankfully we didn't have to end up making that call.

Just 10 minutes earlier, I had heard a helicopter overhead. Then a plane fly by. Then the helicopter again. Then another plane. Our neighbor told us the highway in front of us was closing. My wife Amy said there was a fire down the street and we had to go. We heard multiple firetrucks and police cars scream by us down the highway. The helicopter and planes flew overhead again.

But then the fire danger was extinguished as quickly as it had started. We unloaded our car and were again safe at home. 

Fast forward to today. We had no idea the hit-and-run thunderstorms and dry lightning we had the week before would cause so much destruction. According to CAL FIRE, there are nearly 6,000 wildfires burning in California. Over 200,000 acres burned. Five deaths. Nearly 2,000 structures destroyed. The fire nearest to us, the CZU August Lightning Complex, is now near the edge of the Santa Cruz city limits and is only 8% contained. It's burned 71,000 acres in Santa Cruz and San Mateo Counties.

More than 77,000 people have been evacuated in our area. Our hearts go out to those who have been displaced, who've lost their homes and so many personal heirlooms and memories. We thank our first responders, our local firefighters and those who have joined the firefight from other states (over 1,300 total), the Red Cross, CERT volunteers and our community for donating important items needed for those evacuated, like tents, bedding, water and toys for kids. We thank our neighbors for looking out for each other's homes and keeping each other informed of the latest fire news and staying on the lookout for burglars eyeing empty homes. And let's not forget that we're still in the middle of a pandemic that's resulted in the worst economy since the Great Depression. 

Shortly after this latest fire danger escalated, we began to prepare and pack. This time we had time to pack more of what we could take and what we'd need. We got our new camper out of storage and parked it in front of our house to take with us if we had to go. We packed away sentimental things and stored them at a friend's house. We have our suitcases and boxes ready to go if the evacuation warning comes. Plus, our dog Jenny and rabbit Dragonlily. 

The fire danger hit both of our daughters, Beatrice and Bryce, pretty hard the other night. The reality of what was/is happening, the fires so close, school being canceled again, friends leaving the area due to the smoke as well as the fire, the packing of important things and the leaving of others -- actually hit us all pretty hard. What do you take when you don't know how much time you have? Or, more accurately for us this time, what do you not take when you have time to look at everything.

Really look at everything. As I filmed the outside of our house and every room, nook and cranny inside the house, I teared up. Yes, there's all the stuff we can't take with us, but there are also so many memories in this house, which thankfully we can. This being the first and only house my wife and I were grateful to buy together, and the only house our daughters have ever known. Our family pictures, the kids' artwork, every scratch, scuff and worn place. From their births to birthdays (what a way to celebrate Bryce's 10th this year) to holidays to the lean times to the many good times to today -- through all the highs and lows -- we're grateful for it all. 

We're still not out of the burning woods yet, but we'll have still each other no matter what happens, our #BhivePower, no matter all the things we may lose. That will always be a foundation worth saving.  

Other "Days of Coronavirus" posts:

This Hit-And-Run Thunderstorm

Help Prevent the Back-to-School Bullying

Memories Now and to Come

Especially Our Kids

This Old "No" Guy Jedi

Choose Eyes of Love

The Morning Work

We Shared Blue Genes

Agree to Disintegration

The Teacher Parade

All These Things Can Lead To Grace

Our Freedom Is Always Welcome

A Well of Strength

This Bad History

No Shirts, No Shoes, No Problem

The Iceberg Underneath

The Healing Hope We Can Give

Donate Your Date Nights and Help Feed Families

About All The Things

Dad, Our Family's Computer Guy

The Newest Normal

Where Our Troubles Are All The Same

This Is The Life

When There's Nowhere to Go

Jenny, Jenny, Who Can I Turn To

Where The Heart Longs To Be

"Kevin!"

The Mama called downstairs right after I heard the coughing, and I knew what it meant. I knew even before she called out for me what was happening. One of the girls was sick and throwing up. I reached their bedroom and sure enough it was Beatrice.

"Poor baby," I said.

The Mama consoled Bea and took her to the girls' bathroom. I immediately stripped her bedding and hauled it quickly it to our bathroom to rinse off, consciously closing off my nose to prevent that ever-present gag reflex. Of course we love our children, but nobody likes to be close to the vomit.

We got her cleaned up and mouth rinsed and back to bed while Bryce bounced off the walls. Bea's always an-early-to-bed great sleeper. Bryce is not. But on the other end Bea get's up even earlier than me now that school has started, at or right after 5 a.m., and Bryce gets up much later, around 6:30 a.m.

For now and at least the next few years they'll share a room, which has worked out fine to date, even with the growing differentiation of sleep patterns. They sleep snuggly in their own beds, safe and sound, surrounded by dozens of their favorite stuff animals, while we sleep comfortably in our own room down the hall.

All in the safety and security of our own little locked up home.

When we bought our house, we weren't going to have children. Less than two years later we thankfully changed our minds. The night before Bea got sick above, I had finished watering our backyard, something we only do sparingly these days because of the drought. When I came back inside I gazed out our kitchen window.

"I love our little house," I told the Mama. "We raised our babies here. We put that little backyard together ourselves."

"Yes, me too," she said.

I reminisced bittersweet. We made it through the lean times and I learned a lot about the rock bottom perspective. We held onto our house when so many lost theirs during the great recession (although some economists would argue we should've let ours go).

But something kept nagging at me, like when you're trying to forget something you never wanted to remember in the first place, but it's always right there in the peripheral of your frontal lobe.

The NPR article -- that's what it was. The one about homeless families in San Bernardino, CA and the fact that California ranks third in the U.S. — behind only Kentucky and New York — in the percentage of children who don't have a home, according to the National Center on Family Homelessness. (Read more about the things you never wanted to remember via the Los Angeles Times staff writer Joe Mozingo's series San Bernardino: Broken City.)

There are about 2.5 million children who experience homelessness in the U.S., which represents about one in every 30 children. And it should come as no surprise, but again according to The National Center on Family Homelessness at American Institutes for Research:

Research shows that homeless children are hungry and sick more often. They wonder if they will have a roof over their heads at night and what will happen to their families. Many homeless children struggle in school, missing days, repeating grades, and drop out entirely. Up to 25% of homeless pre-school children have mental health problems requiring clinical evaluation; this increases to 40% among homeless school-age children.

The impacts of homelessness on the children, especially young children, may lead to changes in brain architecture that can interfere with learning, emotional self-regulation, cognitive skills, and social relationships. The unrelenting stress experienced by the parents may contribute to residential instability, unemployment, ineffective parenting, and poor health.

If you're familiar with Maslow's hierarchy of needs, safety and security are the second tier of the pyramid, ahead of physiological needs (food and water). Unfortunately issues like homelessness are so emotionally and politically charged that no one cares about hierarchies of the many needs. This makes it difficult to shine a light on the fact that there are solutions that really do make a difference, including safe and affordable housing as well as education and employment opportunities for parents.

I'm also not suggesting we would've been on the street or in a shelter or motel if we would have lost our house. We were fortunate and still had resources, employment and a family support system. But my heart goes out to the millions of homeless children and families in this country (and throughout the world), thousands of whom are in Santa Cruz County, for whatever reason they lost theirs.

Pointing fingers at those less fortunate and saying it's their fault because they're homeless is not a solution, especially for the children.

Bea just started 1st grade and Bryce has one more year of preschool, and for them, home is where the heart is -- and they still have years to be a kid. But for those without, a loving safe haven is where the heart longs to be.