Breathing In Smoke
I am a baby born of fire, the land that was so fertile raising me was so because of the fires which returned all that stood back to the Earth. Such a place has put me through fiery hells and made me grow up faster than most. Every home that I lived in from the day I was born to the day I became an adult and moved away was taken by the flames. There have been so many fires that breathing in smoke was not much different from breathing in air. I am a Californian living in the burning mountains where much is taken and little given back. My neighbors and I grew up and lived our lives knowing smoke and fire; instilling a fear that we will never be free of.
As I reflect on my early childhood, my first home, and in fact, the place I was born was surrounded by flames. At just 4 months old I got my first taste of running for my life, before the time I could even crawl. The fire came mere months after my parents had moved in beginning a fresh start not knowing what they were getting themselves into. I was born May 12, 2001, and in September 2001 the Poe Fire in Butte county threatened my childhood home and claimed most of my parent's belongings which were still boxed up from their move. By some miracle, the fire burned all around the house but did not claim the house. My family fled the area running from the smoke to Michigan where my grandma lived. We were able to breathe in the fresh Michigan air and breathe out the toxic smoke. Convinced that the fire had taken it all.
Fast forward to my middle school years when I was in fourth grade. The Butte Lightning Complex Fire of 2008 claimed the homes of many in my hometown of Concow. It threatened the nearby towns leading to an article saying
“Flames becoming a way of life in Paradise as a second horrific wildfire in recent weeks turns idyllic community into disaster zone.”
I remember my school being the center for aid giving away supplies to fire victims. Most vividly were the pallets and pallets of dog food. Many of my classmates moved away and those that stayed were cared for by the community which offered hot meals, school supplies, and so much more. It was a huge effort and tragedy however it was just the precursor to what was to come.
Throughout the years there were warnings and worries; each summer seemed to bring one more potential threat to our way of life. I can’t count the number of times I have evacuated. Each summer brought more smoke.
My hometown of Concow was solely supported by marijuana growing. Simply put there was not any way to make money that did not involve Marijuana. Everyone was growing everyone was smoking, and everyone was breathing in smoke. As they inhale smoke from the fire and marijuana smoke and sold marijuana to make money it was safe to say that the whole area was a smoking chimney. The mountains were a ready-made campfire just waiting to be lit. The drug involvement and seclusion welcomed in shadiness and questionable personalities.
This is where I grew up in Concow California, a redneck hood if you would. Where if you stray too far there was trouble you were going to run into. Although I am an adventurous soul, I roamed constantly. As I hiked or as others saw it... Trespassing I got to see places that few got the chance to see. The community was deeply entangled in marijuana, I can remember being in 5th grade and hearing about the 7th and 8th graders getting caught for bringing it to school. My school fought it as best they could with their “say no to drugs.” But we were getting told that the drugs are bad and to stay away from them but for such kids, the only way they've had food on the table was because their parents grew drugs. This was a profound contradiction as the way of life there was to grow the very drug that they are being told is bad for you.
The marijuana use would often become so frequent that a dependency formed. In some cases, people took it a step higher doing more serious drugs. I went to school with many that became abusers of these serious drugs. The lifestyle would run you into the ground no matter who you were. The only people that found success were the ones that were only in it as long as they had to be. Then they moved away, allowing them to keep their riches, no one that sticks around has riches. The place tends to take so much and give so little.
The fire of all fires came on November 8th, 2018 The Campfire was the fire that the area had always dreaded. The pinnacle of all of our fears. It was what went bump in the night for my immediate culture. Homes, people, pets, livelihoods, marijuana plants, all burned. It rightfully received serious news coverage and there was a movement of support. It is a story in itself to explain all of the support that we received. It is a whole nother story to tell about my campfire story. Both I will leave for another time but needless to say, I breathed in smoke like never before. That was the last time that I breathed in smoke again. Goodbye hometown, goodbye fire, and goodbye smoke.
Ean Sequoia Jones
“What we do now echoes in eternity”
