The situation in Ruidoso continues to unfold as residents have finally been allowed to return to see if their homes, businesses and favorite places in the mountain community have been destroyed in the devastating fires. At this point, there is good containment of both the South Fork and Salt fires, but officials still estimate more than 1,400 structures have been lost. And the number of people still missing is around 30.
I’ve received lots of comments on the blog that I wrote about the disaster last week. I’ve heard from several people with ties to my old home town, including one person who I haven’t heard from since we were in high school.
I’ve heard from the two teachers who I helped set up the Trout in the Classroom project at White Mountain Elementary this spring, and thankfully their homes were spared. But they worry, as I do, about the children in their classes and how many of those lost their homes. The teachers also confirmed that many of their fellow staff members have lost their homes as well.
I’ve done quite a bit of reflecting on this catastrophe and a couple of things have occurred to me.
First is how fortunate I was to grow up in a place like Ruidoso. It was a story book town for a kid, with many adventures to be had in the forests surrounding us, a close-knit community of like-minded people and a generally positive view about life. I’ve regaled you with memories of some of my adventures and misadventures I had in Ruidoso while growing up, and the fire has brought back many more — thinking about the places and people there. I think anyone who has grown up in a small town appreciates the things in that kind of environment that shaped them, and in my case, the spectacular mountain setting that I enjoyed.
The other thing is why it often takes something like this to remind me — particularly as I get older — that I need to stay in touch with people I have known over the years. I mentioned the person from my high school days who I hadn’t heard from in years.
It turns out he kept a letter that I wrote him 61 years ago when he had transferred from Ruidoso High School to the New Mexico Military Institute in Roswell. He scanned it and sent it to me in an e-mail. We shared some funny stories about things we’d done in high school, and he told me that he is suffering from what appears to be a terminal case of prostate cancer. I was touched by the fact that he had kept the letter and could find it.
My letter to him mentions some other friends who were attending NMMI and some other activities we did that I didn’t remember, like bushwhacking our own ski trails through the woods at the Sierra Blanca ski resort (now Ski Apache.)
I wish I had kept in better touch with him over the years. I wish I had kept in better touch with other friends of the years. I’ll promise myself to start doing that, but I fear I will probably backslide and then feel regret the next time someone who was once close to me has died or another disaster has triggered memories.
If you read this and think I’ve forgotten you, send me an email — we’ll catch up.
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