McMusing: Standing in the Wind
It is best to not weigh in on a firestorm we have not weathered.
I lived in Southern California from the age of ten until I moved to Missouri in my late twenties. My most vivid memory of my move to the high desert above Los Angeles is of the wind. I loved to go to the end of our desert lot and run with the wind behind me as I jumped over the sagebrush.
I searched online to see if my childhood perception of Lancaster, CA was valid and how it compared with other places where I lived. It didn’t appear to be valid—averages are interesting that way. And yet, the wind in Lancaster is always a topic of conversation.
The high wind records occurred anywhere from 1938 in Springfield to last week in Lancaster. I lived in Colorado Springs during that record-setting wind and was living in my RV trailer during a similar 100 mph wind. Yes, it was frightening. I have felt the effects of both hurricanes and tornados. I now live in Washington where less wind than that toppled massive trees in a recent Bomb Cyclone. The wind is worthy of our respect.
It seems in my childhood memories, it overwhelmed the memories of calm days. Maybe because the wind blew sand into my eyes and the irritation continually caused me and one of my classmates to develop styes on the regular.
I lived in the Los Angeles area during my teen and young adult years. I was very familiar with the Santa Ana winds. The ChatGPT description below mentions how these winds tend to clear the smog that gets trapped by the surrounding mountains. It also mentions the wildfires. We all knew that the winds could cause fires and hoped it rained before they began. No one ever imagined winds as intense as what occurred last week.
The Santa Ana winds are warm, dry winds that blow from inland deserts to Southern California's coast, typically in fall and winter. Caused by high-pressure systems over the Great Basin, they intensify as they descend through mountain passes, becoming hot and gusty. Known for spreading wildfires due to their low humidity and strong speeds, they can also temporarily clear smog from the region.
Compared with the average wind speeds in that chart above with the description of last week’s winds below. I remember thinking I lived in windy places, but I did not experience what happened last week. The distance and power these winds have to carry embers is staggering.
Gusts have reached up to 80 mph in some areas, while most of the Inland Empire experienced sustained winds of 50-60 mph. The High Desert, including Victorville and Apple Valley, also saw gusts of 40-50 mph. (Source)
It could have been so much worse. The scope of loss keeps us from realizing how much was saved. The urban sprawl and density of the population are really beyond comprehension. The damage was horrific, but look how much could have burned—almost this entire map is filled with housing and businesses. Could some things have gone better? Of course—I feel like that every day—even when I do a great job.
The following was written by a student in the course I taught in the fall and is shared with permission. She was describing the difference between living life while dissociated from the painful realities and living fully within our lives.
It's like when someone tells you it's windy, but you’re standing in the house and just looking outside. You can understand what they are saying, but not really feeling it yourself. But then, when you choose to go outside and you feel that strong gust of wind that just rips at your hair, snatches your hat, and destroys your umbrella. You were just told it was a strong wind, but now you're feeling it.
Those who have never fully stood in the wind can easily assume they know far more about what it feels like than they do. I am reminded once again to not say, “I understand what you are going through.” Not for the fires, not for survivors, not for any tragedy that is not our own.
I have stood in my own storms, but I have never stood in the storm of another person. It is best to not weigh in on a firestorm we have not weathered. My estimation of my ability to assess how well someone (or a city) is doing in their storm is much higher when I haven’t walked outside to stand in the wind.