On this quiet and long Thanksgiving weekend, I have a moment to write about my bittersweet trip to California for the memorial service.
After 5 hours of driving on November 4, I got to my sister's house outside of Redlands. She came by with one of the folks from the Del Rosa Hotshots who had worked with Lotzi, and they had just come in from one of the funerals. Sis needed to make a pitstop, and then they were off again--to drop D off back at Del Rosa, and Sis off to what I learned where contentious planning meetings for the funerals and the memorial. Sis said she'd be in at about 8 or 9, which was normal for this time period.
My brother-in-law and nephew were out hunting, and Sis had been on a dead run as soon as the news broke on the Forest without much to eat in nearly two weeks, so she practically begged for a real dinner. This I did with pleasure, and the pleasure was mine especially when she drooled when she said, "Oooooh, chicken..." I had made Mama's baked chicken, along with steamed summer squash/zucchini/red bell peppers, all of which she inhaled. "I finally have an appetite," she said apologetically. "God, thank you for making dinner, it's perfect."
Instead of going to bed early, as we should have done, she and I stayed up to talk until after eleven. As I'm not sure as to what I should reveal in terms of what she told me when the other captain found Lotzi and the boys and the whole situation (especially with the ongoing investigation); suffice it to say that I know more detail than most. What I will say is that I correctly surmised that they didn't have a snowball's chance in hell, and that probably, *probably*, Lotzi didn't do anything extraordinarily wrong. And that is just from the discussion she and I had, nothing official.
It was the first time Sis and I had talked without disruption in years, and it was a good thing. She needed to purge her sorrows and all the drama of the previous two weeks. She had just gone to her second funeral as I said earlier; she had the memorial on the 5th, the third funeral on the 6th and the last on the 7th (Gus's services were private, and Sis did not go to that one). "We're done," she said, in terms of everyone's emotions. Everyone was fried, everyone was tapped, patience was running out, nerves were frayed, and everyone was just in the "one day at a time" mode. I was told about a lot of things--good and bad--that I don't think I can put on a public blog. Let's just say that like with every horrible tragedy, some people rose to the occasion, and others only half-stood. It's human nature.
We trudged off to bed at 11:30 or so to get up at 4:30am.
It was dark and it was sleepy and Sis and I went to Starbucks. Caffeine for the win. Then off to what was Norton AFB which is now partially commandeered as the Berdue Supervisors' Office, as well as the Forest air base, moved from Ryan in Hemet. There were a lot of faces I didn't recognize, some I did. Miss D from yesterday gave me a hug. Kenny did also. Marlene about fainted--I said to her "the world hasn't ended." Good old Howard. I saw some faces I did recognize but it had been so long, and I hadn't worked with them so closely, that I don't think they placed me. Just as well, it wasn't a reunion, after all.
I drove Howard's vehicle to Glen Helen with his wonderful son so that they could be together, and I was there saluting right with them. It was touching and sad. I saw many grateful faces and some ravaged faces.
In looking for Howard I went across the stage area, and looked around. Nope, not in the general seating area. I looked once, twice... TALL ONE!! He is in the Honor Guard. I let out a little squeak and tucked myself under his arm. "Is this who I think it is?!" I grinned. "I am if you're still the Tall Shit!" He laughed, and smiled into my eyes, "As long as you're still Short Shit!" I laughed. I went to move on, and let them rehearse, when I looked up--"Budlee!" An "oh my God," two hugs and a kiss later... It was nice to see two people I cared about still. I just wish the timing wasn't so horrible. I have Budlee's number and I need to call.
It was a beautiful ceremony, marred only by the heat, strong sun, and the incessant Santa Ana winds. The Governator was there with Maria, and made a nice speech, as did Mary Bono, and various other politicians. The one that annoyed me was Dianne Feinstein, who was stumping... wasn't the place for that.
The best speeches, of course, were the ones made by those who really knew them: Mike Dietrich, the Forest fire management officer, and Norm Walker, who is the San Jacinto Ranger District's fire management officer, now called Division Chief to jive with the cities. The text of their speeches can be found here.
Probably the most touching moment was watching Dan Gosnell, who runs the Honor Guard, present Norm with a folded flag in memory of the crew. I could see Dan and Norm wringing hands, not letting go, neither one of them trusting their emotions; embracing and parting. Norm clasped that flag, and continued to as he sat again onstage, as if to never let it go, his devastation clearly on his face.
Once over, the rest of the day was uneventful--we went home, my nephew and brother-in-law came home, we ate dinner and slept.
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The next morning, Sis looked better than the day before. "It's the first time I've slept through the night since they were killed." The memorial provided closure, at least some measure of it, and I know the sleep helped her bear up for the final two funerals.
I was on the road home by 10:00 am, my mind sifting through my time in wildland firefighting as I drove that long, boring way back to Phoenix on I-10. It is an inherently dangerous profession, and we can all take solace that all of them died doing what they loved.
