Two States of Living

In recent days, friends in Ames, Iowa, have asked us what it’s like, living in California right now – given, among other things, our recent destructive wildfires that wiped out an entire town, burned thousands of homes and resulted in dozens of deaths. And let’s not forget – as if we could – that mass killing at a country-western bar in a city a few hours down the highway from us – a city considered one of the safest in the United States.

But only a few months ago – when we were living in Ames, as we do each spring and summer – friends in California asked us how we could live in Iowa, after we had endured numerous thunderstorms that had, over time, drenched us with more than 40 inches of rain. And those same friends were amazed after Iowa State’s opening-night football game was canceled because of one especially vigorous thunder-boomer.

We tell both sets of friends that we are fortunate to be able, in our retirement, to have the best of all possible worlds. Sharon and I spend several months in Ames each year because we lived here long ago, left too soon, and decided we’d never found any place better. We spend the rest of our time in a small town on the central coast of California because it’s close to where our two adult children are and because, yes, it’s a tad warmer than Ames in winter.

So we get to experience the good things that both states have to offer. And we also get to suffer along with residents of both states when unfortunate events occur. We were still in Ames when Iowa State student Celia Barquin Arozamena was killed in September, we shared the sense of shock and grief that overtook the community. Our community. And we also shared the sense of surprise. Things like that don’t happen in Ames, do they?

But here in California, wildfires don’t surprise us because we’ve always had them. What’s different now is that the blazes are bigger and far more dangerous because the state has been in a drought for years, the ground is parched, and millions of trees are dead or dying. Combine that with all those houses that have been built in fire-prone areas – sprinkle in a giant dose of Santa Ana winds every autumn – and the result is predictable. We now have “fire season” all year.

Gov. Jerry Brown put it well a few days ago, when he said our wildfires are not the “new normal” – they are the “new abnormal” – which, he said, will continue “certainly in the next 10 to 15 to 20 years.”

The governor added that Californians have a “real challenge” that threatens the state’s way of life, so “we’ve got to pull together.” The problem, of course, is that Californians – like people everywhere else – are divided about what to do about almost everything – including wildfires.

As for gun control, California has some of the strongest gun laws in the nation – which did not deter that mass killer in Thousand Oaks. In church this past Sunday, the pastor asked our congregation: “What can stop something like this from happening?” He answered his own question: “Nothing but a complete change in men’s hearts.” Good luck with that.

What I see, here in our small central coast town , is resignation and acceptance about the natural and man-made tragedies we’re going through – or that could threaten us. We live in California despite the dangers of fires and earthquakes and mudslides and occasional heinous crimes because many of us have “history” here, because the weather is nice much of the time, and because, on most days, it’s “easy” to live here. Not every day – but most.

And those are exactly the same reasons we look forward to getting back to Ames next spring.