By Mark David Blum, Esq.

Ever wonder what it is like to experience your home burning down? One year ago today, my family and I did just that. Here is the story as it was told then; reprinted for your reading pleasure.

(Part 1: Ashes to Ashes)

At five pm sharp August 8, 2005, I was awoken from my slumber by the first boom of an approaching thunderstorm. This in my house is no big deal; we dig thunderstorms. Most of us do, anyway. In any event, the first boom of a thunderstorm approaching is the warning shot to dash about and shut off computers and pull sensitive electronics from the wall. Fortunately for me, though I was snoozing, the family was not so when I awoke, all was well in my world.

So I sat out on the balcony and watched the wind blow. The rain fell. Lightening buried deep in the clouds lit up the day and boom after boom shattered overhead.

We as a general rule are not intimidated. We survived the Labor Day storm; though our home was on the State Farm top five list of properties damaged. Campers we are and one long and harrowing night on an island on the St. Lawrence, we were pelted with an 11 hour thunderstorm. It never ended. The wife sees herself as armchair stormchaser who dreams of nothing but riding out a hurricane or watching a tornado up close and personal.

So this thunderstorm was supposed to be no different than its predecessors. We have seen the worst that Mother Nature can dish out, and we LOVED it.

As is typical, the lightening flew and thunder boomed. The wife and I watched and the kid cowered in holy terror in the bathroom. I lay in bed with the curtains thrown open and watched the wind and storm come toward us. The wife was at the window staring out. I had just managed to coax the kidlet from the bathroom hoping to get her to see it was ‘no big deal’.

Nice timing that was.

No sooner had the kidlet poked her head into my bedroom, than there was a huge flash of light. The wife screamed and jumped away from the window. The kid ran screaming in terror back into the bathroom.

I lay in bed and saw the sparks.

OK cool, I thought … I seen the sparks of electricity from a very close lightening strike. It took a couple of minutes but eventually I lured my daughter back into the light. Her first words to me were, “I smell smoke”.

I did not smell it and neither did her mom. She insisted and said there was something in the oven but nothing that would smoke. I went to check and shit yeah, the living room was smokey and there out the window I saw a steady stream of smoke coming down off the roof.

FIRE

I ran outside to get a better look and there was a fire on the roof. It was small, but it was a fire nonetheless. I ran back inside and tried to call but the telephones were dead. I used my cell to call 911 as I ran out the door and banged on all the neighbors doors at the same time. I went back inside and calmed the family. It was no big deal I said, just get what is most important to you and get out. At first there was panic but everybody got out safe and sound. Of those very few items we actually took, my little precious child never let go of the TV remote … from the moment the storm started until about an hour after we were outside. She finally realized she had been clutching it the entire time. “Dad, I don’t know why but I have the remote in my hand.” We both had a good laugh. Nevermind what I grabbed.

First responder to the scene was a very young police officer and he and I did not get along from the get-go. The fire was growing quickly and spreading across the rooftops. What started as a very small burn on a corner had now spread across three residences. I had made my third telephone call to 911 wondering in a very calm and relaxed voice, WHERE THE HELL WAS THE FIRE DEPARTMENT?????? I have no idea how long it took them to arrive and set up but by the time they turned on a hose, this fire was now burning ten feet in the air. My rooftop was next. All I could do was stand there and watch as the fire grew and spread. I could see the steam coming off my rooftop and I dreaded watching it all go up.

This young cop was really professional but very stressed. Part of me felt bad for him, but part of me insisted on reminding him that I am the victim here and I live here. That did not stop him from threatening to arrest me … twice. We later talked it out and made our peace. He apologized and I am grateful. But it was very close for me to daring him to just fucking do it, cuz I just didn’t care anymore. Thankfully, I found someone to answer a telephone and I was able to chat on the phone for a while and cool off. At least I had a good view of a major fire.

Departments from Manlius, Fayetteville, Jamesville, Kirkville, Cazenovia, Dewitt, and I am sure others responded. Words cannot thank them enough for their efforts. It must have sucked to get into that fire and do that dirty work. A lot was lost. Much more was saved. Nobody was hurt and that alone is good enough for me.

So I finally calmed down and am standing barely one half inch from where I was told; making sure to not dare put my toes across the police officer’s line on the sidewalk. I am standing quietly; the enormity of it all sinking in. Sucking on my 300th cigarette, suddenly one of the firefighters or I think an EMT drops his gear next to me, tells me to get the “hell out of there with that cigarette, I have had enough smoke for one day.” I turned and was like what the fuck is your problem … though I did not say a word. My eyes said it all, I am sure as he several times challenged my stare back with inquiries whether I wanted to discuss it with the police. At my home, on my lawn, on my property, and I am the victim, and this bastard just out of the blue walks up and gives me shit. Before I could even open my mouth, that cop came up again and again got in my face. This time I was not backing down because I did not do anything. He listened and calmed down and so did I and everybody went about their business.

For three hours, we stood in the rain and watching the fire grow. Eventually the weight of it all came crashing down on me as I heard how they had to open the ceiling and there was water and smoke damage. I saw windows popping out and heard chain saws venting roofs. All I could do was stand there helpless.

The Red Cross showed up and they are indeed a dedicated bunch. Hot coffee, blankets, pizza, sandwiches, and smiles were everywhere. All together, about 40 people were now homeless and displaced as a result of the fire. Of course, everybody I knew to call picked this night to be out and having fun and living their own lives instead of sitting around the telephone in case I should call.

For three hours I stood in the pouring rain and tried to reach someone. Nada. Red Cross workers were starting to get concerned and they kept offering us a hotel. We thanked them but we did not need a hotel. If we did, we could afford it. There were people who lost far more than did we this night and were far more deserving of financial assistance.

The best news of the night came in the fourth hour when we finally heard that we were going to be allowed inside for just a minute to grab essentials and get out. Obviously, the power was out and I stumbled about in the dark to grab something; anything. The smell of smoke was thick. It was too dark to see what if any damage had occurred.

We were so rushed to get in and out, that I paid very little attention to what I actually got. Among the ‘important papers’ I grabbed were empty envelopes, scrap paper, and an apple core. Basically, everything on my desk went into my briefcase. I grabbed the laptop, other important stuff, and ran out the door being hustled by firefighters.

It was only when I put my stuff in the truck did I realize that ummm … I forgot to grab any clothes. I was soaked from standing hours in the rain and everything down to my shoes was waterlogged. My feet had been numb for hours now. And I did not get a single sock, a single shoe, not even a dry shirt. What would you get from inside your home if you had two minutes to bug out?

As the time is now after midnight and I have had several libations in hopes of coming down from the stress and insanity of the past several hours. I am so wired up and tequila just aint cutting it. For as long as I can remember, I have always dealt with a crisis by making sure the situation is under control, and then I fall apart once everybody else is safe.

The kid is tonight sleeping at a friend’s house. The wife and I are nestled at another friend’s home.

Stay safe folks, and remember …

“there, but for the grace of God go I.”

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(Part 2: Smoke Gets in Your Eyes ... the next morning)

Yes indeed, smoke gets in your eyes. It gets in your hair and in your clothes and in your bedding and just about everywhere. For the next several weeks, it is going to smell like camping around here; sans weenie being roasted and marshmallows being toasted. (mmmm, toasted).

We are back in our place. Management here have been amazing in how fast they got us cleaned up and made the place habitable. It sure is going to smell for a while, but mixed with all the deodorizers and cleaning solvents, I have no doubt toxic shock syndrome is not far off.

The electricity just went back on; which explains this posting. First thing I read was all the warm well wishes from all of you. There are not words sufficient for me to express my thanks and gratitude for all your kind words and thoughts. Somehow, someday you will allow me to repay that. As someone properly noted, people in adjoining units have lost everything and in far dire straights than are we. If you are going to do anything, call Carriage House East Apartments and see what if anything can be done for those who were displaced. We were just inconvenienced and scared shitless. From that, we will recover. Our pain, however, is nothing compared to those around us.

It has been a very surreal day. Having spent the night laying in a strange bed staring at the ceiling and making small talk with the wife until the sun came up, we are both exhausted. By 7:30 this morning, we were parked in front of our place waiting for someone to come by and let us back in. Of course, the only people who came by were the endless and steady stream of “lookie-loos” who just had to drive by and stare at the burned out building and the tired old man laying in the bed of his pickup. My daughter’s 13 year old friend made the wife and I lukewarm decaf and a couple pieces of dry toast. Since it was the only food we had eaten since Sunday morning, we were thankful.

The second parade that marched on through was the media. Channels 5 and 9 had crews and trucks parked here all day; complete with live remote facilities. Someone should tell them that the fire was YESTERDAY and there is no reason to keep broadcasting. Reporters followed us wherever we went; to the pool, to the car, to the toilet. One had the audacity to ask me to invite her into the burned building so she could shoot footage. For what purpose the cameraman kept shooting footage of my daughter walking around in her bathing suit I still wonder. It was starting to piss me off.

So now, as we throw away a lot of spoiled food from the frig and drag our televisions and telephones to the garbage heap … (they did not survive the lightening strike) … we begin again another day with another set of challenges. Life is the day to day stuff that happens as you make plans for the future. Those who say I should live my life for the benefits of an afterlife, should learn from me that life is too damn short to live it for anybody but yourself. The sun is up today, Godzilla is not trying to eat my City, and I am getting a new telephone and televisions tonight. What else is there? What more do you want?

And, for those of you who were waiting for telephone calls, letters, or other work from me today or tomorrow, lemme say this about that … fahgit about it. This shark is taking a couple of mental health days.

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(Part 3: Aftermath)

It's now 4:00 a.m. and almost three and a half days since the lightening strike that ignited the fire. Having the comfort of hindsight, I have since been able to remember more of the events of that evening than I was able to originally post. Also, I have had the luxury of talking with others involved to gather up more facts.

The short version is that we dodged a bullet and can take a deep breath and relax. Our own losses were minor; mostly everything electronic plugged into a wall and the food in the refrigerator. We waive this off and feel minimal pain when compared to the severity of loss experienced by our friends and neighbors.

By how much did we dodge this bullet? If you recall from my original piece, my darling bride was standing at the window looking out and I was behind her laying on the bed; both watching the show outside. Apparently, the path of the lightening bolt was through the television set down in the basement apartment up at an angle to hit the overhang of the roof as the bolt traveled skyward. Ten feet more to the left and you would be reading our obituaries; rather than my whining. The woman whose television was hit was watching it at the time and saw a huge fireball inside the tube of the set before the whole thing just melted. Everything electronic not connected to a surge protector in both buildings was instantly fried.

I have to take a moment to discuss my confrontations with the police that night. (The incident with the firefighter was different and he was just a colossal asshole). Nothing I experienced that evening can be described as ‘fear’ or ‘panic’. Everybody was safe; there was nothing to be afraid about. “Helplessness” and the frustration that goes along with feeling helpless is a far better description of what I experienced. As I stood outside waiting and waiting and waiting for fire personnel to arrive, to set up, and to FINALLY turn on the water, I was totally helpless in watching the flames grow and march across the rooftop toward my home. Remember, we are the family that had already lost nearly everything we owned just three years ago, so there really was not that much to lose.

What I experienced was seeing a fire that I felt could have been put out with a garden hose (though none was available) explode over time into a five alarm fire. The police officer was stressing trying to get everybody out and away. I was calm enough to not be rushing and trying to help the wife and daughter and neighbors while the officer was rushing me. That was the lethal concoction of adrenaline and power that came into conflict. Add to that my years of dealing professionally with police officers and you might understand why I was not intimidated by his threats or blathering. What pissed off him and his partner were neither my words nor my behavior. I was fully compliant and well aware of where that ‘line’ is at. Rather, it was my cold incessant “if you could read my mind” stare that posed a challenge to their training and job. As I said though, the police officer apologized and we talked it out. I consider him and every Manlius police officer a friend; as I have for the past 13 years I have lived in this community.

That feeling of helplessness is a real shock I can’t yet shake. You want to protect your family. You want to protect your friends and neighbors. You know in your heart that if someone would just give you a garden hose, you could at least start attacking the problem. Some young police officer is keeping you in place away from your home. All you can do is stand there and watch. You watch the situation grow increasingly worse and you see what you feel is a lack of attention being paid. And you stand there and watch … and watch … and smoke a lot of cigarettes … and pace back and forth … and growl. No blue pill on the market can ease the feeling of impotence felt that night.

Adding, if you will forgive the pun, ‘fuel to the fire’ was that when we first left the building, the fire was small and far enough that surely it would be quickly extinguished. We did not grab much; though I did throw blankets on top of furniture and stuff to protect from water and smoke damage. As the fire grew, it became more obvious that we were at serious risk of losing our stuff as well. The stress to get back in and get more ‘stuff’ was piled on the rest of it. To cap it all off, remember there was something in the oven when we left? All my precious little darling could do was keep telling me we “left the oven on” and urging me back inside. Of course my attempts to explain this to police fell on deaf ears; though I made sure I was heard.

There are not words sufficient to express my personal thanks and admiration to the owners of this property; the Valenti Brothers. They have performed heroically through all of this. Everybody impacted has been provided shelter and assistance in every way. The clean up and repairs are moving along quickly. If any of this is being read by anybody who can, someone should step up and notice these folks. They have proved themselves wonderful members of the community and deserving of everybody’s attention and accolades. Though we may argue about nickels and dimes, these folks have not hesitated to step up with the dollars and common sense to make this process as pain-free as possible.

So many others need to be thanked as well: Our friends who housed us despite being in the middle of moving and being up all night packing … and tolerating a refugee family. I have to thank those of you who called, emailed, and wrote inquiring of our needs. To the man who loves me in North Syracuse who kindly fed my family, I adore you.

To the untold numbers of lookers and drive-bys that has gone on non-stop since the fire, WILL YOU PLEASE STOP. You would think the image of Jesus had appeared on a wall or something based on the number of cars slowly circling around and checking out the burned cavity of the building. Heck, local Channels 9 and 5 sat here all the next day … after the fire and had their cameras trained on the building. Every time I or someone would step outside, the cameramen would scramble to their machines and they would shoot footage of us walking in and out. I guess the comment I made about the fire happening “yesterday” and that it was “no longer NEWS” did not impress the reporters. They just went live from here at 5 and 6; having not a single clue about what went on here or how people were dealing with the experience.

Now, three days later, things are normalizing. The three families allowed back into the building have had their places cleaned and sanitized. Everybody else is gone. Things are quiet … eerily quiet for this place. It is dark. The parking lot is empty. Even the pool and environs are not filled with the usual hustle and bustle of life. There is a funeral-esque atmosphere … though nobody died. The life and spirit are gone. “Shock” and “numbness” are what people are feeling and expressing.

Then, there is that smell. There is a constant sweet smell of wet charred embers constantly wafting in the windows. All the deodorants and disinfectants and shampoos cannot get that smoky scent out of the air. Wet carpeting still lines the hallways. It all serves as a constant reminder of Monday’s events. Just yesterday morning, while sitting outside in the darkness of the very early morning, a waft of burnt embers came upon me at the same time I thought I saw smoke. I jumped up, ran outside, and thoroughly searched the outside of the building. False alarm.

… and when I close my eyes, I still see it all. My mind replays the whole night like an endless loop. Maybe it is survivor’s guilt? I have no idea. The feeling of malaise is always there.

There really is very little in life over which we have real control. Security is a false hope. ‘Stuff’ has no meaning. Take a deep breath this morning, look up at the blue skies, and concentrate on keeping things in perspective. ……… If you had thirty seconds from a dead start, and remembering you only have two arms … look around you and think … what do you grab?

I say, now more than ever … grab ‘life’ and forget the rest. Don’t settle for a life you can live with. Chase the life that you cannot live without.