Erica and Jon Solove look at the remains of their home in Superior, Colorado, for the first time on Jan. 13, 2022, after the Marshall Fire destroyed it. (Chet Strange/Washington Post via Getty Images)
Jeff and Jodi Moreno took turns staying awake late into the night of Tuesday, Jan. 7; their eyes cemented to the Watch Duty app on their phones, which showed real-time updates and alerts for the fast-moving Eaton Fire.
The winds howled so strongly that the Morenos worried a tree might crash through the bedroom windows of their Altadena home they had just remodeled. So, their three daughters slept on makeshift beds in the living room, just in case.
At 2:15 a.m., the couple heard people calling over a PA system from outside, instructing them to evacuate. The family of five loaded their cars and left the home they’ve lived in for the past 19 years.
When they turned down their street the next afternoon, no houses came into view, just the stark, vertical lines of chimney after chimney.
“The shock was almost too much to feel much of anything,” Jeff Moreno said.
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It’s a kind of loss that’s hard to relate to unless you’ve been through it before. And given that extreme weather disasters are becoming more frequent due to climate change, a growing number of people are actually able to understand this feeling.
No one asks to join the club of extreme weather survivors, but being a member makes you uniquely suited to help others once you are out of an acute crisis.
The Moreno’s home in Altadena, California, before and after the Eaton Fire ravaged the community in January. (Courtesy of Moreno family)
The group has put together a Slack community for Los Angeles wildfire victims, with sections devoted to insurance, debris removal and mental health. Doctors and scientists are involved in answering questions about smoke damage and children’s health.
The more than 800 L.A. wildfire victims using the resource can also get advice from survivors of past wildfires who have walked this road before.
“Right away from interacting with it, I was like, ‘Wow, there’s people on the other side of this,’” said Jodi Moreno, Jeff’s wife.
“We can emotionally connect with all of our friends who are surviving this,” Jeff said. “But none of us know what the next step is.”
Jeff and Jodi Moreno (center) and their daughters. (Courtesy of the Moreno family)
While most L.A. wildfire survivors are connecting asynchronously online, which can work well in the unsteady early days after displacement, the Morenos recently connected to a former wildfire survivor in real time over Zoom.
Erica Solove lost her home to Colorado’s Marshall Fire in December 2021. The blaze moved so quickly that Solove’s husband was the only member of their family of four who had time to put shoes on before fleeing.
Solove and her family rebuilt their home and moved back a year and a half later, a relatively quick timeline. She attributes that speed to a strong community and an outpouring of care and assistance from both friends and strangers.
In one instance, Solove met a woman who’d also lost a home in a wildfire. The two spoke for just a few minutes, but having “a person who had that shared human experience to reassure me meant everything,” Solove said.
Solove recently began working for Extreme Weather Survivors after volunteering with the group for months.
In their call, Solove and the Morenos spoke about feelings: the surge of adrenaline in the first few days and then slowing down as a new reality sets in. They talked about kids: how to emotionally support them in the short and long term.
And the Morenos asked questions that only someone who’s been in their position could answer. Things like, if you do decide to move back, do you ever regain a sense of safety?
Solove said she, too, had feared that she wouldn’t. But the night her family moved into their new home, she felt “the purest joy and pride,” she said. “The only other life experience I could compare it to was giving birth to my two children.”
Solove does, at times, get nervous when there are strong winds, but overall, she is satisfied with her family’s decision.
As the three spoke, Jodi Moreno held back tears. “There’s a knowingness in the way you’re talking that is deeply comforting,” she said. And while it’s likely too soon for survivors of the L.A. fires to feel this, Solove said she is actually grateful for the life experience of living through a catastrophic wildfire. She has learned how to comfort people during crises and that she, her family, and her community are stronger than she realized.
The former home of Erica and Jon Solove in Superior, Colorado, the winter before it burned down in the 2021 Marshall Fire. (Courtesy of the Solove family)
The disaster also put things into focus. “I have forever changed my perspective on what is or isn’t important, what I value and what I hope to do and accomplish with my time here,” Solove said.
Solove wasn’t able to save anything from her home that burned down, except for one partially melted mug salvaged from the ashes.
When she moved into her rebuilt home, she planted a succulent in the damaged mug. She keeps it in the center of her family’s kitchen table.
It is scarred, yet fostering life. It represents resilience.
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