Bead 23: Fire, Water, and a Night at the Movies

Here in the Yosemite area, Hurricane Harvey never made landfall.  Not only were our small mountain communities nowhere near the path of the storm, but the news of its destruction was, for the most part, an occasional flicker on our screens.  Not real.  What was real was what was outside:  Dense smoke, falling ash, and the nightly orange glow from the hilltops above our heads. 

In July there was the Detwiler Fire, which led to the evacuation of two entire towns just a short drive up the road from me, and the loss of nearly 60 homes.  In August there were the South Fork and Empire Fires of southern Yosemite, which closed roads and trails, and emptied out the park community of Wawona.  

Then, over the past two weeks, there were four more local flare-ups:  the Peak Fire near Bootjack, the Cathedral Fire near Midpines, the Mission Fire near North Fork, and the Railroad Fire near a slew of small towns:  Fish Camp, Sugar Pine, Oakhurst, and Ahwahnee.  Collectively, these fires displaced hundreds, if not thousands, of my neighbors, and destroyed about a dozen homes.  Two of my coworkers were evacuated for two separate fires.  I worried about evacuation myself; one night there was scanner traffic about a spot fire about a mile away from me, and I packed the car.  The fire was never mentioned again, and it eventually seemed clear that the location had been misreported.  Still, I got out of town.  With my son and my dog, I headed to my grandmother's home in Palo Alto, where the air was safe the breathe.

This photo was taken by Elva Gurule, age 12, as she and her family fled their home during the Mission Fire.

The fires in the southern Sierra are only a sliver of the larger conflagration that is this summer's American West.  In Montana alone, there are currently 45 fires reported as "active" on the federal fire tracker website.  More than 1 million acres, or slightly over an acre per Montana resident, has burned.  The state has long since drained its $32.5 million fire account.

In Oregon and Washington, states people typically think of as wet, federal fire incidents have consumed more than 800,000 acres this year.  The Eagle Creek Fire has the mile-wide Columbia River for a firebreak, and has nevertheless managed to scorch more than 30,000 acres, not to mention drift across the river to the Washington side.  I've hiked in the Eagle Creek area before.  It is all waterfalls and ferns, a thick world of evergreen.  Not fire country.

If it were only the fires, it would be one thing.  But it's not.  First there was Harvey.  Then Irma.  Then Jose.  The devastation bundled into these three back-to-back storms is unprecedented.  A full two weeks after Harvey's passage, more than 50,000 Texas residents remain in temporary housing.  An estimated 126,000 homes in Houston were "severely impacted" by Harvey, many to the point of being uninhabitable.  Irma's march through the Caribbean destroyed ninety-five percent of the structures on the islands of Barbuda and St. Martin.  In Florida, thanks to Irma, as many as 15 million people are without electricity. 

Scene from St. Martin after Irma plowed through.  Photo credit Daily Mail (UK).

To some, this simultaneous scourge of fire and water is mere coincidence.  For as long as there has been nature, there have been natural disasters.  Although it is highly improbable that so many disasters would affect so many parts of North America at once, statistics work in mysterious ways.  Nothing more to look at here.

Or if there is something more to look at--say, in the perspective of Congressman Tom McClintock of California's 4th District--it certainly isn't human-caused climate change.  Technically speaking, McClintock doesn't deny climate change.  In fact, he likes to say that it was he, and not Al Gore, who "discovered" it while on a class field trip to the American Museum of Natural History in 1964.  The dinosaur exhibits made him acutely aware of the earth's fluctuating temperatures.  End of story.  According to McClintock, the earth is up to its usual antics, warming and cooling.  It might be a bit hotter than usual these days, but that is only because the sun is hotter than it used to be.

McClintock's views on climate change are nicely summarized in a speech he delivered to the Heartland Institute in 2009, entitled Inconvenient Questions.  But McClintock's version of climate change is anything but inconvenient.  How handy to have an explanation for what is happening on the planet today without having to actually make any changes.  How handy to be able to retain our age-old allegiance to the bottom line.  McClintock's "theories" grease the cogs of the machine that keeps him in office. 

But as Al Gore and 97 percent of the world's climate scientists have long known, it is not the sun that is driving up global temperatures and increasing the frequency of apocalyptic fires and hurricanes.  It is people.  If we wish to continue inhabiting our planet, then we need to get busy.

This summer, Al Gore released a sequel to An Inconvenient Truth, his 2006 cinematographic wake-up call.  An Inconvenient Sequel: Truth to Power summarizes Gore's work in recent years, and offers reasons to be hopeful.  Compared to its predecessor, the sequel focuses less on climate change itself, and more on the movement that has grown around it.  We see Al Gore roaming the world and recruiting "climate champions" to do the good work.  We see what climate action looks like--who the leaders are, where they come from.  We are taken to Paris in December 2015, when 195 countries came together to adopt a global action plan known as the Paris Accord.  We are shown how the deal was reached, against the odds and with some crafty eleventh-hour assistance from Gore himself.  We are, of course, also shown the rise of Trump and its fallout.  But the resounding moral is:  The people are awake now, and fighting for the planet.

Another Mission Fire photo taken by Elva Gurule, once she and her family were safe at the mill site in North Fork.

We have a movie theater in Oakhurst.  Established in 1986, the Met Cinema has long served as a hub in a town that can otherwise feel like a commercial strip for Yosemite tourists.  In 2013, when the theater was purchased by three local entrepreneurs, it became even more of a community centerpiece.  Operated on a subscription basis, the theater's members, or "Met Heroes," may see as many movies as they want for the equivalent monthly cost of less than two Fandango tickets.  For a small additional cost, members can bring guests--which encourages friends and neighbors to gather at the movies, a la Americana.  The lobbies are set up like living rooms, inviting conversation on either side of showtime.  My son and I have been Met Heroes since the subscription program was launched.  Even though there are months when we don't make it to the Met, my recurring $28 always feels like money well spent.

The Met mostly airs big studio movies, but also has room for an independent film here and there.  Often, these trend Christian and/or politically conservative, as that is the bent of the theater's owners--and frankly, the community at large.  But theater insiders have told me that the management team is always open to suggestions.  In a nutshell, they will play what people want to see.

My local peace group put this to the test recently.  At our August meeting, we circulated a handwritten "petition" asking Matt Sconce, one of the owners, to bring An Inconvenient Sequel to the Met, and pledging to come see it when it aired.  We gathered 28 signatures.  Many were theater members.  A couple days later, I strolled into the theater, intending to deliver the signatures to Matt.  I was told by my buddy Micah, who works there, that the sure-fire way to reach Matt was not at the theater, but on social media.

Bingo.  I messaged Matt, and had a response from him within a couple of hours.  He appreciated knowing there were so many members who wanted to see An Inconvenient Sequel, he wanted to show it, and he would do everything he could to make that happen.

Matt messaged me updates over the next week.  Finally, just six days after our original communication, there was this:  "It is coming in Friday!  Please spread the word.  I am hoping the people who asked for it will help by telling others and showing up."

My group organized two viewings of An Inconvenient Sequel at the Met.  Both times, we made sure Met Heroes were in hefty supply; that way we could bring the others in as our guests.  My son and I went to the second viewing, and filed in with nine guests in tow.  All told, there were probably 30 peace group members there that night.

An Inconvenient Sequel:  Truth to Power wasn't exactly what I thought it would be.  I was expecting a lot more science, a lot more nature gone amok.  I was expecting to be shown what the earth had been up to since the first movie was released.  Instead, I was shown what people concerned about the earth had been up to.  That was disappointing at first.  I'm not sure how hard I would have lobbied for a documentary that was largely about Al Gore.  But by the end of the movie, and certainly in retrospect, I appreciated having learned about the movement.

And I appreciated the positive message.  If nothing else, the film is a rallying cry to people who accept the reality of human-caused climate change to get out there, to be the boots on the ground our planet needs.  According to Gore, we won't be moving to any other celestial bodies any time soon.  The earth is our only home, he says, and we'd best look after it.

  

Bead 22: Coup d' éTom, Part 4

The venue was a bright pink house set low in the oaks flanking Nelder Creek.  The hosts were the lucky ones who recognized the unique value of the house when it went on the market a few years earlier.  Its previous owner had passed away, and the house had essentially been abandoned.  But its previous owner was also its architect, the renowned Allyn E. Morris, once an apprentice of Frank Lloyd Wright.  And the architect was a genius.  The house had almost no right angles.  Outside it was all pink swoops.  Inside, curves and triangles of red, blue, and green.

It was civics that brought us to the bright pink house.  We were to be addressed by a candidate for Congress--a good, Democratic candidate, one that suggested far brighter horizons for our district than what we currently faced.  The candidate was Rochelle Wilcox.  She was one of four women vying for the prize against its incumbent, Tom McClintock, a political dinosaur.

Rochelle Wilcox addressing us at the bright pink house, August 5.

We gathered on the patio.  People sat in wrought iron chairs, camp chairs, folding chairs.  I sat on the low concrete bench that separated the patio from the long drop into the backyard.  The house was built on a hill.  Beneath its feet were rock slabs that ran down toward the creek.  Some of the rock had little tiles set in it--quaint, indecipherable messages from Allyn E. Morris.

The message from Rochelle Wilcox was loud and clear.  Tom McClintock had worn out his welcome in California's 4th Congressional District.  He needed to go--and she was the best-equipped to kick him out.  We pressed her on this.  Her three Democratic contenders--Jessica Morse, Regina Bateson, and Roza Calderon--had already come to to our little town to address us.  We liked them all.  What made her, Rochelle, the top pick?

For starters, Rochelle said, there was her electability.  As a media lawyer in a big L.A. law firm, she had high-powered connections.  Her fellow lawyers supported her bid for Congress, and would help her raise a lot of money.  And because she knew how to get through to conservatives, she could sway many of the undecided voters--particularly those dismayed by McClintock's willful neglect of the District.

Moreover, she said, she would be the most successful in the job.  Her two decades in law had prepared her well for lawmaking.  And she had an ability to work across the aisle without compromising the Democratic Party's core principles.

But there was a problem.  Rochelle's audience that evening was the Oakhurst Area for Peace, a group of mountain-dwelling people of conscience who came together last November, when the world suddenly seemed to go dark.  We found each other in the Red Sea that represents much of rural California, and hung on tight.  Since then, we've been pecking away at this strange new order we've been given.  Individually and collectively, we are trying to make a difference.

Although we understand it takes money and connections to get elected, those aren't the things that inspire us.  As one of my fellow peace group members put it at Jessica Morse's talk, "This is a Bernie crowd."  We are idealists.  We are wary of the establishment.  We grow our own food and cut our own firewood.  We support livable wages and healthcare for all, and wish that California would hurry up and become a sanctuary state.

What's more, in the current climate, I think many of us cringe a little when we hear Democrats talk about working across the aisle.  It's not that we want a divided, ineffectual Congress.  It's just that, since the election, there has been an open season on the sacred.  Civil rights, checks and balances, national monuments, public schools, and countless other American birthrights seem always at the brink of being gutted.  It feels like we need to defend our country from the other side of the aisle, not meet them in the middle.

So, when asked Why you?, the assets Rochelle Wilcox named might not have been the ones we OAP members prioritize in our candidates of choice.  But it was clear, throughout the rest of our evening at the pink house, that she was competent, well-informed, and a glowing alternative to Tom.

Raised by a single mom with the help of food stamps and other aid programs, Rochelle was keenly aware of economic inequality in our country, and wanted to do her part to mend it.  Key in this struggle, she said, was education.  Herself an alumnus of public schools and universities, Rochelle believed in public education and had ideas for how to improve it.  In particular, she said, it would be important to strengthen vocational training and early childhood education.

Another crucial step toward leveling the playing field in our country, she said, was health care.  If a person felt bound to their job because of the employer-sponsored health insurance that came with it, they might be missing out on opportunities for growth--say, by improving their education, or even by pursuing a better job.  To Rochelle, health care was a human right.  She was committed to universal health care, and had a plan for how to get us there.

The final piece of the puzzle, Rochelle said, was rural broadband.

Wait--rural broadband?  We scratched our collective heads on this one.  All four of the candidates had mentioned it in their talks, but it wasn't until Rochelle that we asked anyone to flesh it out.  What did rural broadband have to do with solving economic inequality?

Rochelle explained that with rural broadband came business.  New employers wouldn't turn their gaze toward Oakhurst if, like us, they had to contend with spotty, and often sluggish, Internet service.  Rochelle envisioned our mountain communities wooing the tech industry--but to be half-tempted, those companies would need to know they could function here.

Currently, Rochelle said, there is "a pot of money" available for rural broadband development, and Tom McClintock isn't doing anything to bring it to the District.  I looked this up.  Indeed, there appear to be myriad federal programs to bolster rural broadband, originating from offices as seemingly disparate as the Department of Commerce, the Department of Agriculture (USDA), and the Federal Communications Commission (FCC).

Rochelle Wilcox, like the other three Democratic candidates, lives in the 4th District.  Her L.A.-based firm allows her to work remotely from her home in Roseville.  This is would go without saying were it not for the fact that Tom McClintock doesn't have constituents for neighbors.  He lives down the hill in Elk Grove, away from mountain interests and livelihoods, away from the natural resources he claims to know so much about.  As a 7th District resident, he has never been able to vote for himself.

Also like the other three, Rochelle has an impressive resume.  She has worked at the same firm since she began practicing law in 1998.  Her firm's focus is the first amendment.  She generally works for media companies, pushing for increased government transparency and accountability.  She has represented the ACLU.  She has gone before the California Supreme Court.

In previous blog posts, I have attempted to quantify our congressional candidates' relative levels of qualification, for comparison purposes.  I've drawn some heat for this, as we don't all have the same opinion as to what the "most qualified" candidate looks like.  Is it Jessica Morse, the national security strategist with a decade of civil service under her belt?  Is it Regina Morse, the Ivy League professor of political science?  Is it Roza Calderon, the geoscientist and community organizer?  Or is it Rochelle Wilcox, the first amendment attorney?  I still have my pick.  You might have a different pick.  The bottom line is, any of these powerful women are light-years beyond the current fare. 

Rochelle Wilcox's campaign theme, "Building on Shared Values," seems to reflect her philosophy as a whole.  For most of the politically-charged issues out there, she said, there was a values-oriented way to bring people together.  For example, when it came to Planned Parenthood, she would emphasize the organization's role in providing basic health care.  For climate change, she would show how investing in green energy meant more American jobs.

This made sense to me--and, I assume, most of my fellow Oakhurst Area for Peace members at the pink house.  We might still feel like we're in the thick of the fight.  We might not feel inclined to offer an olive branch to the administration, and the movement, that keeps threatening to dump all the progress we've made as a society.  But when it comes down to it, I think most of us want to find common ground with our neighbors, and our fellow humans in general.

There are four Democrats who, in 2018, hope to go head-to-head with Tom McClintock in the battle for California's 4th Congressional District.  We won't see all their names on the general ballot.  If things go as they should, we won't see all their names on the primary ballot, either.  But in the meantime, Rochelle said, she was happy for the wide field.  Four good candidates roaming the District meant four times the number of bridges that could be built.  And for Rochelle Wilcox, building bridges is everything.

The bright pink house.  Photo courtesy of Lois Clarke.

When the evening's hosts bought the bright pink house, it was occupied by mice.  It hadn't been lived in by humans for four years.  They resuscitated it, redoing the paint and tile work, adding roof supports where necessary.  Today, it shines.  You can find it on architectural websites.  You can find it on Pinterest.  It is again loved, and lived in, and ever improving.

California's 4th District, like the pink house, is a treasure.  Also like the pink house, it has been neglected for some time, left to languish in the weeds.  Our current "representative" doesn't live here.  He has never lived here.  Our current "representative" only listens to those constituents he agrees with, the ones just about as far right as a person can politically swing.  But the 4th District is on the market.  In 2018, with any luck, it will be in capable new hands--those of Jessica, Regina, Roza, or Rochelle.  And the renovations will begin.