At 8:00 am on Saturday, August 24, 1996, we heard a knock at our RV door that changed our lives. The day before we had left Davis, heading north to one of our favorite camping destinations, Redwood Trails RV Park. The park sits deep in the cool green redwoods across the highway from the beautiful crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean. The park is above the quaint little town of Trinidad in Northern California. It took us about eight hours to wind our way up the northern coast to our peaceful little campsite. But the peace was not to last.
The woman knocking on our door called into us, “Your house is on fire, but your children are alright. The fireman wants to talk to you.” Our first reaction was of disbelief. “Of course, our home has not burned down. It’s probably my brother’s house.” I said.
Michael, my brother, lived three blocks from our house in the back half of a duplex, and our daughter Kelly lived in the front half. Michael and his roommate, George, had set many fires in the duplex, by throwing lit cigarettes into the garbage cans. They had used many fire extinguishers over time to put the fires out.
Assuring each other we knew the real situation, we arose quickly from our bed, dressed and headed to the phone at the office. The fire chief assured us our home was burning down; our oldest daughter, Kelly, was there and wanted to talk to us. Kate, our youngest daughter, who was 24, had stayed in our house while we were vacationing. Kelly wanted to let us know that Kate was not in the house when it caught on fire.
It had been a very hot day in Davis, about 106 degrees. Kate said she had shopped at the grocery store in the evening and came home and made brownies in the oven at midnight. She turned the oven off, and left the brownies in the oven. At 1:00 am she said she took a sleeping aid and went to bed. It was still so hot in the house that she was afraid the house might catch on fire while she was sleeping all alone. She got up, called a friend, and asked that she be picked up. She left shortly there after.
At four am, the house broke into flames. Our neighbor on our east side was up and heard the smoke alarms going off in the house; he called the fire department and climbed up on his roof to water his house down. Fortunately, his house was saved. The neighbors on the other side were not so lucky. The fire traveled from our house, up the 100-foot tall poplar trees next to our joint fence. The fire jumped from the trees to their roof. They had just put a steel roof on their home, over the old shake roof. Yes, you guessed it; the fire spread under the steel and lit the shakes on fire. The fire department apparently spent most of their time trying to stop the neighbor’s roof fire; they considered our home a complete loss, which it was.
Kelly got a call at 5:00 am; a friend was listening to the police radio and heard that our home was on fire. Kelly raced to Mills Drive and told the firemen that Kate was in the house. One brave firefighter crawled in looking for Kate. Kelly had last spoken to her at 10:00 pm the night before. Kate’s car was in the carport in front of the house. When the fireman did not find her, Kelly began searching among Kate's friends and was most relieved to find she had been away from the house.
We returned late that day to Davis. Kelly took Kate and us into her home, cared for us, and helped our insurance company find us a rental home, just a block away from our burned house. The insurance investigator said the fire started in the wiring behind the stove. The fire departments inspector said it started in the wiring behind the oven. The oven was off as Kate had said. It was just one of those unfortunate cases of faulty wiring.
Our big decision was: Do we sell the lot and move away? Or do we rebuild and start over in a new home?
We built our dream house on the site and have never regretted it to this day.
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