A Call From Grandma

I realized something was up when we got home from soccer, and there was a phone message from my grandma.

My grandma has NEVER called me before. She must have worked hard to track down my number, because I can't imagine her looking it up on the internet. We are more letter communicators.

But nevertheless, there it was. A message waiting for me: "Christa, we've been hearing about the fire out your way. I was just worried about you, and wanted to make sure you were all okay."

I hadn't realized the Four Mile Canyon fire was a national news event. I did, of course, realize there was a fire. On Monday, the smoke cloud filled half of the sky. On Tuesday, soccer practice and outdoor recess were canceled due to the poor air quality. And on Wednesday, my sheets I hung out to dry had a decided campfire smell to them. But there are fires in the mountains every year. I assumed it had been dealt with. Put out. Damage tallied. Insurance claims paid.

I placed aside my wonder as to the unexpected phone message and moved on to the hecticness of feeding and getting kids to bed in a timely manner. Meanwhile I stewed on the REALLY important matter that was on my mind.

I know this is an amazing fact, but Oscar is the ONLY five-year-old on his soccer team that does not have cleats. CLEATS! AT FIVE! And honestly, at five years of age, if the the ball is being kicked in the right direction, good things are happening. This group of five-year-olds must really take their soccer seriously.

And to make matters worse for Oscar, a boy on his team has been giving him a hard time about his lack of proper foot apparel. So my thoughts were not on world news. Or even local news. They were on the state of our youth and sports. I'm sure you are well aware that I spend vast amounts of time wishing things would lighten up with kids and sports. You can read about in "Mama Mia! Look At Christa!" or "Soccer Snacks" if you have any confusion on where I stand.

So through dinner we discussed cleats. Through bath I thought about - cleats. I looked to see if we had any bedtime stories about cleats. But no. So we made due with Maisy and Dr. Seuss and Narnia. And after the kids went to bed, I looked to Facebook to discuss - cleats.

And this stopped me in my tracks. A link to this photo journal of the fire that was STILL happening. A link to the fire that has damaged more structures than any other in Colorado history. A fire that was still burning. I was stunned. And immediately put in my place.

Cleats.

When more than 150 structures in the area have burned.

I didn't even know.

Two years ago I made the conscious decision to stop reading all news. This was right after we were sued. Which is one of the worst experiences a person can go through. I needed the cocoon of isolationism. I needed to believe the world is a good place. A good place filled with good people. Obama had just been elected. The country was entering a terrible recession. I was tired of reading about the what-ifs, because the present was scary enough. I canceled my Newsweek subscription, which combined with The Late Show, was about the full extent of my news information network.

Since then, I have been relying on word of mouth. I figure if something is worth talking about, then people are probably talking about it. But no one around me has been talking about this fire that had been burning up acres for four days and had even prompted warnings to Boulder city proper residents to be ready to evacuate if needed. I hadn't even realized the Four Mile Canyon fire was still burning!

I am put in my place and am so thankful for what I have: my home, a healthy, loving family, a fire department blocks away.

Suddenly Oscar's lack of cleats are not so important. And I am struck with the thought that though I have been sheltering myself against a negative view of the world, I have also been sheltering myself from a sense of compassion for my community. Living in a bubble allows no sense of comparison. No sense of perspective. No sense of place in the world. I have been living - just a little - senseless.

It might be time to emerge from my news isolationism.

Maybe.