Thomas Fire Lesson A Year After

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Lesson from Thomas Fire a Year After

It was bound to happen, sooner or later.

Had it been a year sooner, however, I believe I would have been far more upset – both at the loss and at myself for being responsible. Such is one tiny token given by the heinous Thomas Fire that – like California’s recent tragic wildfires – took so very much, from so many, a year ago come this Tuesday.

First, the backstory. For Mother’s Day a handful of years past, my daughter and son came upon the lovely idea of giving their mom four ceramic bowls – each unique in bright colors and design, one for each family member.

Because my wife is half-Italian, on her mother’s side, it was decided it would add meaning to honor this heritage with hand-painted Italian bowls.

Upon finding some imported dishes we favored, it was decided – by me – to get only one. This was because a single bowl cost about as much as airfare to Tuscany where one could meet the artisan and buy his or her pottery wares in person.

Before May even turned to June, the bowl suffered a chip beyond use. Mea culpa – rather, in Italian: colpa mia. Had I known any Italian swear words, I would have used them all. I made do with a few in English.

Prudently, a month thereafter the expensive bowl was replaced with a beautiful locally crafted bowl purchased at the annual Ventura ArtWalk. The bargain was extended with three more bowls to give us a full family table setting.

My wife was perfectly pleased and yet I still felt a need to replace the Italian-made bowl. A few months thereafter, for her birthday, I did. Perhaps it should be no surprise, however, that it went largely unused. We were all afraid of breaking it, most especially me.

Indeed, to eat salad or soup or pasta, or cereal or oatmeal or ice cream, from it seemed a little like hanging an original Picasso sketch on the refrigerator door with magnets. The new Italian bowl belonged safely inside a frame, so to speak, on display in a dining room hutch.

The dining room hutch in my boyhood home was filled with expensive bowls and more. It is where my late mom kept her good china and beloved blue-and-white Wedgewood plates. All were all destroyed when the Thomas Fire razed the house where my dad still lived.

Amid the heart-rending ruins, if one examined closely enough with rose-colored glasses, there was a sliver of a silver lining to be found: at least the good china and Wedgewood had been frequently used.

“A long life may not be good enough,” Benjamin Franklin noted, “but a good life is long enough.” My mom believed the same was true for nice things. She thought her good silver and china should be used and enjoyed regularly, not cautiously saved for special occasions. She considered every day a special occasion.

In the dark aftermath of the Thomas Fire, I decided to start using our Italian bowl daily. For safety’s sake, I never put it in the dishwasher but instead hand-washed it.

Perhaps the dishwasher would have been safer. The other day, a combination of soapy suds and carelessness caused it to slip from my grasp. It fell all of a couple inches before striking the sink, but that was still too far. It shattered like Humpty Dumpty after his great fall.

To be honest, my initial reaction was stubbing-one’s-big-toe-like anguish. Yet, quick as a finger snap, Zen calmness washed over me. People matter, things don’t – that important lesson from the Thomas Fire is an enduring gift.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

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