After a brief respite, I am heading back to Wenatchee this weekend to a state conference that I am running. As many of you know, Wenatchee has had a bit of a fire problem in recent weeks. It’s been extremely dry here in Washington State, so it’s not surprising that the area is a tinderbox right now. The lack of rain, high temperatures and thunderous storms inevitably cause the forests to ignite.
A forest fire never just suddenly happens as you know. A stray lightning bolt will hit or a careless camper will leave a fire burning, eventually stuff around the spot smolders and finally ignites. A small fire begins, growing larger by the second. In Washington that means trouble, largely because these fires usually start in hilly, mountainous and rugged terrain. It’s not like you can just drive up to it with a fire truck and douse it. You have to drop smokejumpers in by parachute, launch aerial attacks by plane and helicopter and chop your way through dense forest that is often already ablaze.
Florida has fires too. But they aren’t the same. A palm tree will look like a birthday candle as it burns. A pine tree will explode without notice. All that pitch inside heats up and BOOM!!!! – tree bomb.
I’ve had some experience in this regard. No, I’ve never leaped out of a perfectly good airplane into a forest on fire (though I have leaped out of a perfectly good plane). But I am something of a firebug.
There, I admitted it. Not the arsonist kind of firebug mind you. I have never set a structure on fire, outside of the small office buildings I started on fire as a kid. I can still see those poor men, on fire, leaping to their doom from the open windows, melting into a pile of green plastic on the pavement (sniffle).
I’m talking instead about starting fires in my personal and professional life. Through ignorance, inattention or just plain old mischief, I have started a lot of fires in my life. Some were just little brush burners. They never amounted to much. Others were conflagrations that were of historic proportions, so much so that people still talk about them, such as the Great Meltdown of 2009.
It starts innocently enough. I will say something, do something and suddenly, whoosh, a little fire starts. I probably won’t even notice it. It will sit there smoldering for a time, then BOOM! – go off like a tree bomb.
If I hadn’t been such a firebug all these years I would probably be living a cushy life right now. I would still be married to one ex or another, I would have tons of money in the bank, I’d be some fancy manager with a corner office and perhaps, even rich and famous.
But I have never been able to beat this firebug thing. Deep down on some level, I like to start fires. As I said, I will say something, do or not do something, make a very ill-advised decision, make a gesture, forget to do something and before I know it, a small pile of embers are aglow with discontent.
If I was a firefighter type, I would quickly put it out. The problem would be handled and all would be right in the world. But I like to fan the flames at times. I will take a slow burning moment and turn it into a blazing, raging inferno from which no one can escape. Even Smokey the Bear runs in fear and terror, knowing that all hell is about to break loose.
The result, of course, is total devastation. The once fertile garden of peace and tranquility has been reduced to a charred, barren wasteland that is virtually uninhabitable.
Sometimes I don’t even wait for the embers to burn brightly in a slow burn. I go with the napalm plan instead. What the hell, I think, why wait for things to slowly go out of control. Let’s just drop some napalm and watch the innocent villagers flee for their lives. Soon, everyone is running from the searing heat of discontent. But they can’t run fast enough. No, debris rain down on them from all directions, all because of something I’ve done, and there’s no escaping it, at least not without some pain, agony and occasionally, needless suffering.
I only mention this now because I am much better at preventing and fighting fires these days. That Cat 5 of emotional wreckage and human debris has been tempered over the years by age, acceptance and tolerance. I’ve learned to fight fires rather than start them and to not fan the flames for fun when a fire does break out.
I kind of wish I had had these skills in my younger days. In my own recklessness of youth I had forgotten that a lot of innocent creatures in the the woodlands I call my life would be uprooted and burned by my fire buggery. While I moved on in a blaze of seeming glory, they were left to sift through the ashes and rebuild,
It’s a good lesson to learn… being a firefighter. And while I readily admit that I still like to burn a bridge or two now and then, I have no desire to let any fire burn for any longer than it has to, except perhaps, the one that still burns deep in my soul.
Perhaps it’s a lesson we could all learn. I know there are others out there just like me. Hot headed with a fiery disposition, flitting about flicking their Bic at every opportunity, trying to start a little fire here, there and everywhere just because they can. If we could all learn to fight the good fight when a fire is still manageable, when it hasn’t yet become all consuming, perhaps the world would be a more joyful, tranquil place.
So, my little woodland friends, rest easy tonight. You won’t have to awake in terror to a conflagration, one laying waste to your quiet little world. At least not one started by me.
In the Emerald City, humming “Smoke Gets In Your Eyes” and wanting to watch Always again,
– Robb