In A New York Minute

By W. F. Twyman, Jr.

The Great Battle for Hope

In the blur of phone calls and missed messages, it became clear that my family was activated. My daughter with the drama of her Dad grabbed Mom’s attention. My Mom in Law was stern and steadfast as was her way with family: Take your important papers, medications & pets. Colleagues advised my wife not to rush home. It was too late, too late. Once the mandatory evacuation order is in effect, one can never enter. One can only leave.

M called with the voice of command. “Dad, can you get Hope?”

“I will try.”

Time was wasting now. My neighbor next door said we were under a mandatory evacuation order. He’s retired and, while a daily walker like myself, was not going to hero act against a raging fire storm down below. I shook his hand for the confirmation and decided to leave…but first Hope.

Now, Hope doesn’t care for me. We have a transactional relationship. If she comes into my bedroom, this is unacceptable. I am allergic to cat hair. So, I always have a tub of cat treats to lure Hope out of the room. Works every time. Surely, ladies and gentlemen, when in a crisis, Hope would revert to form, come to me with the cat treats and allow me to place her into her cat carrier.

Surely, surely, surely.

I brought out the Temptations and a tab cat device to lure Hope. The device I turned on. The box I shook. No Hope. Time was a wasting. I shook out a few treats. Nothing. M called me with a rushed urgency. Did you get Hope? I said I was still trying as I emptied out more treats. Still no Hope. My patience was dying here. “M, I am going to give Hope 15 more seconds. If she doesn’t come upstairs for the treats, I’m out of here.” Ok, Dad. M, my animal whisperer in command.

I left a Christmas tree load of treats for Hope. I shook the box like crazy. The count down began…15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, I shook the box harder for a cat who did not really appreciate me as a human…9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0.

No Hope. “M, I’m gone. I tried.”

And Hope was left to her destiny. I tried dear, readers.

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As I drove out of our neighborhood, I realized there was only one way into our place. If that access was cut off, we were all doomed. This all seemed surreal on an other wise normal sunny day in San Diego. As I drove down the hill and came to a stop light, a police officer directed my attention to my passenger side. And who did I see? Who was not in New York but over my shoulder? M! Dad, we couldn’t drive in because it is a mandatory evacuation order. Did you get Hope? I said, no, and thanked M for coming out and trying.

Mind you, I have to yet to meet M’s girlfriend. In my idealist INFP mind, I have dreamed of meeting M’s girlfriend at a pleasant restaurant on Coronado for the first time and getting to know her under comfortable, normal circumstances. She is a native North Carolinian, a fellow southerner like me. I want to know her for the first time in an easy way, not under evacuation order circumstances.

Life doesn’t accommodate our desires. In a New York minute, everything can change.

As M stood at my car door, there was no time or grace for introductions. I knew M’s girlfriend was in her car but I was too caught up in the moment to say Hi.

I later discovered that M made a command decision. He and his girlfriend would enter our messy home and rescue Hope. M opened the front door, and used his animal whisperer ways to retrieve Hope. But the insane Hope took one look at the cat carrier, she went berserk! They scuffled. They fought. Hope drew blood and scratched M’s chest! My Lord! What did M’s girlfriend think of all this? Of a dysfunctional cat in a time of peril and crisis? Of her heroic boyfriend called to save Hope? Of our messy home? I said to my wife that the girlfriend saw us in the wild/sigh. No time to clean up for guests.

After the chest attack, even my hero son threw up a white flag. He made the command decision to leave our place and Hope to her destiny.

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When I arrived at my wife’s school, family resources were deployed in all quarters. My wife was receiving intelligence reports on the fire from her colleagues and on her cell phone. Mom in Law exemplified stoicism. Michael Bowen would have been proud. I give my Mom in Law a hard time at times but, in an emergency, there is no greater force of nature in your corner. M called me and delivered an intelligence report on the great battle of Hope.

There was so much family alignment in a moment of crisis. The alignment reached across the country and back again. I was so proud of my son, M, who needs to hear more of my pride. As I decompressed, I wrote the following group text to our core family members:

Thank you to everyone who came to our support during the mandatory evacuation a few hours ago. I am bless to have close family on the case within minutes in a time of crisis. A particular note of gratitude to M who rushed into service on behalf of Hope. Close family in a time of crisis remains a blessing though we be near or far. Hope thanks you.

My older son quipped “Nobody puts Hope in a carrier!!” So true.

Conclusion: The fire was put out by the rapid fire response team here in San Diego. Literally, I heard sirens wailing in the distance seconds before the explosion and mandatory evacuation order went out. The fire never had a chance to destroy homes and lives. Were we on edge today? Yes. Were we a little anxious today? Of course. And we made it through as a family. Even girlfriends became constructive daughters. I love that feeling of a family expanding.

Race did not matter on the home front. Sure, I was a cluck and unprepared to grab important legal documents. I did not bring a change of clothes. Even when the power was cut off in our home, I stumbled around to change out of tacky sweats and into respectable khakis in case I met M’s girlfriend for the first time. I made time to look presentable. I am my Mom’s son.

We are grateful for our vigilant fire department. We are thankful that no homes were lost. No lives were taken. We give thanks we came home tonight when so many in Los Angeles were not as blessed or fortunate. The wolf is always at the door when one lives in southern California.

And tonight we are home safe and sound. Flopsy and his Mom never knew they were in danger.

Good evening!

Left — Flopsy Right — Flopsy’s Mom

P.S., The fire made the national news on ABC, according to my Mom in Law. As for our family synergy in crisis, my Mom in Law observed “That’s what family does.”