High Points: The go-bag

This has been a tough January on many fronts, especially for those with roots and/or ties to Los Angeles, where the fires have blackened more than 60 square miles of neighborhoods and mountainsides. There are many here in Aspen who are close to that community, and to those, we send our best wishes.

Initially, there was the absolute shock when we witnessed the speed in which entire neighborhoods of Altadena and Pacific Palisades were overrun by the flames. As the days turned and the fires subsided, that shock turned to agonizing grief, as those whose homes burned told their tales of evacuation and loss. So many expressed their sorrow at not having anything but the clothes on their backs. The vast majority did not have the “go-bags” that have become part of the lexicon of emergencies.

I know about this kind of loss because I have been there. When I was 13, a fire raged through my Malibu neighborhood, destroying my home and over 100 others. At the time of the fire, my mother was home alone, as my sister and I were in school, and my father was at work. Sensing she would have to evacuate solo, and soon, my mother had just a few moments to decide what she should take with her before she left — what should be in her, what we now call a, go-bag?

Bless her heart, mom took down an oil painting of an ancient buffalo that my parents had gifted each other on their wedding day and dragged it to the wood-paneled station wagon (You remember those, right?). She grabbed a box of family photos, my sister’s toe shoes (She had an upcoming dance recital), a denim bag filled with my football uniform, shoulder pads, and helmet (I had an upcoming Pop Warner game at Palisades High School), and that was about it. A couple of hours after she left, the house exploded in flames, and all of our other belongings went up in smoke.

Two days later, when we returned, there was nothing left but the rubble. But as we walked through the still-hot ashes, we found a remarkable souvenir that the fire had created. My father had been an amateur collector of records — 33s, 45s, and the occasional 78s (You remember those, right?). All of the vinyl was kept in a built-in cabinet in our living room, and the heat of the fire melted the records into a single clump with some labels and record-cover residue left behind. Obliviously saddened, my father ran his hands around the smooth block of plastic. He suddenly stopped and was clearly shocked. There, sticking out of the black mound of vinyl was a label from one of his old records by The King Cole Trio. It read, “Smoke Gets In Your Eyes.”

Oh, the irony.

Thanks for indulging me.

The point of all of this is: What do you have in your go-bag? Likely not much because most of us fail to heed the warning until it’s too late. May these fires prompt you to take a moment and at least consider the things you might take if you were told to evacuate your home in just a few minutes. If you smelled smoke in your Red Mountain home or up Woody Creek and went outside to see flames bearing down, would you have a plan to get out? Would you have a go-bag?

The thing is, if it happened on the flats of the Palisades or in Altadena, it could happen anywhere. Including here. Our community, for the most part, dodged a bullet over the Fourth of July, 2018 when the Lake Christine fire threatened Basalt and El Jebel. The next time, we might not be so lucky.

Take a moment this winter to consider the things that are most important to you, even if they are just your car keys, prescription medicines, and digital devices. Make a plan, and put a go-bag together.

In a difficult time, it could be a High Point.