Fire. Crap.

It's like October of 2003 all over again in southern California, as the Witch Fire and other massive fires burn from Malibu to the Mexican border. Thankfully I don't live there anymore (the Cedar Fire made sure of that) but my dad still does, and my company's headquarters are still located there, in the East County town of Julian.

Julian survived the Cedar Fire, just barely, but Cuyamaca (the small town where I used to live and where my dad is) did not. Ours were two of the homes lost in that fire, and my dad literally just (as in within the last two weeks) finished and sold the home he built to replace the one he lost.

Up until yesterday I watched the coverage of the Witch Creek Fire with slight concern and just a bit of PTSD, knowing that, whatever terrible things were happening throughout San Diego County, at least Julian and Cuyamaca were safe. Well, no more.

I just heard from my dad that Julian is under a mandatory evacuation order as of yesterday. Weather forecasters are predicting that the massive Santa Ana winds, which have been whipping out of the East at upwards of 50 mph, will break down today. Just like in the Cedar Fire, when the Santa Anas stop that's good news for almost everyone, but bad news for Julian & Cuyamaca. The die-down of the wind will give the firefighters a better chance of containing the fires, and if the winds turn around completely and start blowing on-shore, that will raise the humidity, lower the temperature and force the fire back on itself, slowing it down dramatically.

Unfortunately that could also push the fire into unburned areas to the east, which is where Julian & Cuyamaca are. When our houses burned in '03 it was 5 days after the fires started and after the wind changed direction; I fear the exact same thing is about to happen again.

The worst part for me is that, in '03, my dad was in Europe (with me). He's spent much of the last four years wondering if he could have saved his house, rigged as it was with roof sprinklers and a supply of flame retardant. Since he wasn't there we will never know the answer to whether he could have faced down the hundred-foot wall of flame and come out the other side alive. This year he's home and has re-adopted his "hell no, I won't go" attitude. It's impossible to tell a 25-year-veteran firefighter that he should leave, especially when he knows that the area is woefully undermanned due to all the other fires in southern Cal.

Maybe, when the fires get closer (as of Tuesday the flames were about 10 miles away and visible from his house) he'll come to his senses and leave (of course that assumes there will a road open for him to do that). In '03 Daryl joked (OK, it wasn't really a joke) that she would, if necessary, hit him over the head with a frying pan and drive his unconscious body out of harm's way. This time around, there's no one there to do that.

So think nice, cool, light-breeze thoughts for the firefighters throughout southern California fighting bravely to save as many buildings as possible, for the half-million people forced out of their homes and into shelters, hotels, and the homes of friends and family, and for my Dad, who is hopefully not mis-applying the lessons of King Canute, who was unable to hold back the sea.