So This Is How The World Will End: by Rick Castro 918/2020
Perhaps waiting is the hardest part?
If you’ve been living under a rock, you probably didn’t know the entire west coast is engulfed in flames. From Vancouver, through Washington, Nevada and Arizona, to Colorado and New Mexico. Even Idaho! It is all in flames.
In California alone there are over twenty-four uncontained fires burning throughout the state. The one that really pisses me off is the
El Dorado fire which was caused by powder blue fireworks lit off next to bone dry shrubbery at one of those fuckin gender reveal parties. Another reason not to have children. Hey Assholes! It’s a boy!
The one that has me the most concerned is the Bobcat fire. This started on Saturday, September 12, and has increased in size and insidiousness everyday since. Originally I was concerned for my friend Chris Bag who lives in Monrovia. He sent me this harrowing photo from his front door where the flames were cresting over the mountain top. He sat with his father watching all evening.
On September 17, Chris Bag and I were texting back and forth when I received notice that I was accepted on NextDoor:Deerhaven,
a website that shares up to the minute info with neighbors in the remote high desert of Pinion Hills, where I’ve spent most of my time since the plague. Currently, I’ve been stuck in LA recovering from complications of penis surgery, so have been away from the desert for three weeks. I miss her!
Anyway, I was surprised to receive a message from NextDoor:Deerhaven, since I applied over a month ago, and was rejected because they couldn’t verify I was indeed a neighbor. Apparently a neighbor who I don’t know, (I don’t know any) Doug Deutsch verified me and posted a harrowing group message-
“The Bobcat Fire is close to Juniper Hills, which, on a map, is only 27 minutes from Pinion Hills [see map]. Are we in danger of having to get ready to evacuate?”
The winds had shifted. Chris Bag and Monrovia were safe. My sanctuary in the high desert I call Bee’s cabin, (me mum’s name) was now the one in peril!
By September 18, the area next to Bee’s cabin, Juniper Hills, received mandatory evacuation notice. At 4am I was driving to the high desert of Southern California. As I got off the 14 FWY to Pearblossom Highway, the sun was just starting to rise. Then the full spectrum of the massive disaster was revealed. What looked like beautiful sunrise, was actually a scorching red sun peering through smoke-riddled skies as far as the horizon stretched over the desert floor. As I made my way through the tiny town of Littlerock, the smoke was brown and thick. So thick I was having trouble breathing. I wanted to take a deep sigh of anxiety, but didn’t want my lungs filled any further with the hazardous air. I was now driving through what looked like dusk setting on the high desert, but was actually dawn. A dark forbidding dawning on the reality of global warming laid out in front of me.
As I preceded further to the familiarity of Pinion Hills, suddenly the skies were clear and the sun shined bright and inviting. Now at the front gate of Bee’s cabin, I marveled at the contrast of the apocalyptic scenario happening merely fifteen miles to the West. To my left was billowing brown smoke, below in the low desert was thick hazy smoke, but here at Bee’s cabin it was like Shangri-La. Blue skies, birdies chirping and a lone bunny directly inside the front gate on my driveway, waiting to greet me. Is this what sanctuary looks like?
The illusion was mind-boggling. I was being lulled into the facade of safety by the serenity of Bee’s cabin.
So I jumped right into what I came here to do, choose all the items of importance to me, and packed up personal heirlooms. Looking at my phone clock over and over, I did all this very quickly. Now faced with the ultimate decision of what to save and what to leave, I surprised myself with how sparse my emotional needs really were.
All the items that brought me memories and joy since my childhood, wouldn’t look or feel right anywhere else but here. They don’t make sense in my Hollywood apartment. I also didn’t have room. They certainly didn’t need to be back at my parents home in Monterey Park. Housing two parents with Alzheimers and their caregiver, it didn’t make sense to load up them up with a cabin full of nostalgia. If my sis & bro wanted anything, they both have keys so could rummage through what they wanted, but I was fairly sure it would not be much.
I was done packing within an hour. My focus was now on the outside and the land. I chopped down a small dead tree and knocked off dry branches of the trees directly next to Bee’s cabin.
I then watered me dad’s eleven trees, including the grand fifty year old Chinese Elm, I fought tooth & nail to save just three months ago. I drenched them with water so they could be as green as possible. This would be their only defense if the fire comes to their base. I then removed all dry and flammable items away from the cabin, and removed curtains and anything flammable from the windows, as directed by emergency evacuation information.
I sat down and ate my Beyond Burger I’d picked up from Carl’s Jr, earlier than morning. Since I had me penis surgery, I’ve been somewhat vegan. Meat, chickie and fishie just doesn’t make sense anymore. I posted on Facebook and texted a few concerned friends, and I was ready to go. This was the shortest stay I’ve ever had at Bee’s cabin. With the awareness that my shortest stay,
could well be my last.
As I drove down Palmdale Road, a godforsaken desolate road in the low desert of Southern California, the air is thick and dense.
All the smoke burning in the mountains of Juniper Hills is settling here. Reflecting how just six short months ago, I fled to the high desert and Bee’s cabin and found unconditional comfort and sanctuary from the plague that was engulfing the world. From one apocalyptic trauma, to the next end of the world scenario of massive global warming induced fires, where would my solace come from now?
Back in East Hollywood… sitting in my little apartment staring at my laptop, I’ve convinced myself I now have black lung and permanent damage. My head is splitting with a migraine of death. I’m worried well. The term used when one was not sick, but concerned during the plague. The first one, AIDS. Yes indeed, waiting is the hardest part.
So this is how the world will end.
copyright- rick castro- 9/2020
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