Paradise, California:
Our Planet is burning
Paradise,
California, reduced to ash in deadly wildfire, was everything its name
implies: charming, friendly and historic. Two of my best friends lived
in Paradise since 1965, nestled in a valley between the Sierra Nevada
and Coastal mountain ranges.
Here is a published article by the Associated Press.
By MARTHA MENDOZA - Associated Press
Friday, November 16th 2018, 09:56 am EDT
PARADISE,
Calif. (AP) — There's a sweet legend about this town: On a blazing
summer day in the 1850s, a lumber mill crew with wagon and ox took a
break under a grove of tall evergreens. The air was cool, the pine
needles fragrant. "Boys," said the team boss, "this is paradise."
Thus,
more than 170 years ago, Paradise was born. From the start, it was
enriched with gold mined from nearby hills and lumber harvested from the
forests. Over generations, thousands lived and loved here; they built
homes and businesses, schools and houses of worship, parks and museums
that proudly honored Paradise's place in American history.
In a matter of hours last week, it all disappeared.
Nearly
9,000 homes. Hundreds of shops and other buildings. The Safeway
supermarket. The hardware store. The Dolly-O-Donuts & Gifts, where
locals started their day with a blueberry fritter and a quick bit of
gossip.
This town of 27,000 literally went up in smoke in the
deadliest, most destructive wildfire in California history. The death
toll, for now, is 63, but many more are missing. And memories are all
that's left for many of the survivors.
Driving past the smoldering
ruins of downtown, Patrick Knuthson, a 49-year-old, fourth-generation
local, struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. He pointed out
places that once were, and were no more: a saloon-style pub, his
favorite Mexican restaurant, a classic California motel, the pawn shop, a
real estate office, a liquor store, the thrift center and auto repair
shop, the remodeled Jack in the Box burger outlet, entire trailer parks.
At
the ruined Gold Nugget Museum, the ground was crunchy and hot, a few
birds chirped nearby, and a half dozen soot-covered deer stood eerily
still under a blackened tree.
Paradise was a town where families
put down roots, and visitors opted to stay. Children could bike to the
park, go fishing in the town pond, shoot bows and arrows at the nearby
archery range. As they got older, they'd kayak in the canyons or hike in
the forests after school.
"We could tell the kids to go outside
and play, and be back when the street lights come on," said Kaitlin
Norton, whose uncle is still missing. She does not know if her home
still stands.
Like all places, Paradise had problems. There were
issues with addiction and poverty, but residents felt safe. And while
prices were rising, it was still affordable for many in a state where
housing costs have soared.
"You would never miss a meal here,"
said Terry Prill, 63, who often sought lunch and dinner at community
churches. "The people are good people. They don't look down at you."
The
pace was relaxed. Neighbors waved to each other in the morning,
shouting hello as they headed off to work on tree-lined, winding streets
and cul-de-sacs. Families kept tidy gardens and planted vegetables,
trading their bounty up and down the block.
Louise Branch, 93,
says Paradise was a lovely place to retire. "It's a slow town, really.
People have yards and dogs," she said. "I especially liked it in the
fall when the trees are full of color."
Parks burst with bright
orange California poppies and wildflowers in the spring, and soften with
light snow in the winter. At 2,500 feet, on a ridge that rises above
deep canyons carved by the Feather River and Butte Creek, Paradise
offers cool respite from hot, dry weather in the valleys below.
Spanning
the creek was the Honey Run Covered Bridge, built in 1886. It was put
on the National Register of Historic Places in 1988 and was the only
covered bridge in America with three unequal sections. It, too, is gone.
Glenn
Harrington raised two sons in Paradise. He found it so picturesque he
started the Visions of Paradise page on Facebook; image after image
chronicles the town's history and spirit, its seasonal colors and its
many festivals.
Each spring there were Gold Nugget Days, marking
the discovery of a 54-pound lump in 1859. The Donkey Derby in nearby Old
Magalia would get silly, as locals recreated how miners heaved the
famous chunk of gold into town. The highlight was a parade of homemade
floats.
"My daughter's going out for the Gold Nugget Queen this
year," said Krystin Harvey, whose mobile home burned down. "Well, it's
been going for 100 years, but we don't know — there's no town now."
In
the fall they'd celebrate Johnny Appleseed days, gathering at the
recreation center for a crafts fair and games. This is when Paradisians
would feast on more than 1,000 pies baked with fruit from Noble
Orchards, a nearly century-old farm on Paradise Ridge where trees were
heavy with cherries, nectarines, pluots and 17 varieties of apples.
"Paradise
is everything the name implies," said Tom Hurst, 67, who grew up there
and raised horses at his 7-acre Outlaw's Roost ranch. He has relatives
in the local cemetery dating back to the early 1900s, and he refuses to
talk about the town in the past tense. In fact, some buildings still
stand, among them the town hall, the 750-seat performing arts center,
the Feather River Hospital, its newer sections damaged but intact.
"Don't use the word 'was,' use the word 'is,' because we ain't done, we're just getting restarted," Hurst said. And yet, there's so much to mourn.
A
month ago, the Paradise Symphony was rehearsing for the local
"Nutcracker" ballet, and kids were pulling out their skates as the
outdoor ice rink was set to open for the winter. The Paradise Post
reported that fifth graders were building cardboard arcade games, and
warned of backyard bats with rabies.
Now, crews search for live
power lines and gas leaks. Rescue teams continue to pull human remains
from cars and homes. Fire crews tamp out smoking piles, and a heavy
layer of gray-brown haze hangs over the town.
The toxic, smoky air
is a visceral reminder of what's missing in this place where the skies
were so blue by day, and dark by night.
"The most cherished thing
for me about Paradise were the summer nights my mother and I would sit
out on the porch under the clear, starry night," said Harold Taylor, who
moved to Paradise eight years ago, caring for his mother until she
died.
Patrick Knuthson said visitors always were amazed by the
glittering stars and the meteor showers, brilliant streaks of light that
shot across the summer skies.
"We used to tell people all the
time, 'We made sure to turn all of them on for you,' " he said. "It's
going to take a long time to get that back."
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Associated Press journalists Jocelyn Gecker contributed from San Francisco and Gillian Flaccus contributed from Paradise.
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