Jen Rutherford and Cyril pictured at this week's community recovery session in Grantville. Photo: Geoff Ellis
IT IS hardly thinkable that your house could catch fire while you are out, at exactly the same time as power is returned after a three-day outage. Add further devastation to find that a clerical error has left you without the financial protection of home and contents insurance.
Just writing it now makes me feel a bit sick. But it happened. And as I've found, it happens not infrequently to people in our society. (NB. If you are reading this and not sure if you have home and contents insurance in place, now might be a good time to check.)
The words of my next door neighbour, Dave, still ring in my ears. He called me as I drove home from Kernot, where I work as a personal care attendant. I was about 15 minutes from home. The power had just come back on and I was daydreaming about life after our three-day power outage. I thought about the tiny speck of ice that remained in the chest freezer in the garage that was keeping my milk and dog food cool. The timing was perfect for me, as in three days was about the limit of comfort in my house without power. No lights, hot water, refrigeration, stove ... inconvenient.
Just writing it now makes me feel a bit sick. But it happened. And as I've found, it happens not infrequently to people in our society. (NB. If you are reading this and not sure if you have home and contents insurance in place, now might be a good time to check.)
The words of my next door neighbour, Dave, still ring in my ears. He called me as I drove home from Kernot, where I work as a personal care attendant. I was about 15 minutes from home. The power had just come back on and I was daydreaming about life after our three-day power outage. I thought about the tiny speck of ice that remained in the chest freezer in the garage that was keeping my milk and dog food cool. The timing was perfect for me, as in three days was about the limit of comfort in my house without power. No lights, hot water, refrigeration, stove ... inconvenient.
Dave's words interrupted those thoughts. “Jen, your house is on fire. The dogs are OK.”
I decided I wasn't going to panic because the important things were in place. Dogs OK, chooks and ducks were locked up so I knew they were safe, I'm OK: it's OK.
I had 15 minutes more driving and decided to stay calm. My phone rang again. Dave had pocket dialled me. I heard: "Barney, get out! Get out, man! The fire's in the roof". The sound of sirens. "The fireys are here."
I hung up and felt further relief because the CFA were there.
Then my other next door neighbour, John called. His daughter was fighting the flames coming out of my second bedroom window with a hose from their side of the fence and Cyril, my Jack Russell, was last seen running towards the beach.
My sole mission now was getting to my little boy. I drove past my street and down Beach Street. Parked, jumped out of the car and ran down the steps to the beach. Not there. Up the track. Not there. Up the other way? Nope. Then I decided to see if he was at home.
A few metres into the street I was met by a woman I didn't know very well from a few houses down. She hugged me and spoke words I can't remember and walked me in a vice-like hug-walk all the way to my house. I remember feeling uncomfortable because it was difficult to walk with someone hugging you so tight but also immensely comforted by her fierce care for me.
By the time I arrived the fire was out and Lynda, Dave's partner, came down the street carrying my greyhound, Sasha (25kg). Cyril was a shaking mess under the car next door. I scrambled under the car and grabbed him and hugged them both for a time and we all felt great relief.
A chat with the fireys, words of which I have no memory, hugs of thanks to my neighbours who fought the freaking fire in my absence!
The next thing I knew my kind neighbour Jan was ushering me into her little house down the street that didn't have anyone in it for a few weeks and where the dogs and I stayed very comfortably for a week while we recovered from the shock.
Bianca from the CFA came to take some details. Her approach and care and the way she made me feel still linger. Her priority was my welfare. There was no doubting that. It was such a wonderful feeling to experience the kindness of strangers.
Since then I have been inundated with care and support from the most unexpected places. Thanks to Michael Kelzke who lent his huge tarp to put over the house and Evan, Brian, George, John, Ross, Michael's brother Brian (hope I haven't missed anyone) managed the very tricky and laborious task of getting it up on the roof and secured before the rain.
My friend Linda, with her incredible care, practical help and advice, Barb with her bag of toiletries, people who have donated clothes, Michelle and Mick with their listening ears and floor for me and the dogs to lie on, the many who offered me a bed in their home. Thank you. My sister Annie's friend Steven Chai who is a retired civil engineer who has amazingly kindly taken on my “project” which is complex and ever changing and there is no definite solution in sight as I write. Just decisions to be made. Hard ones. And the clean-up ...
My client and her daughters in Kernot have provided me and Cyril and Sasha with a room in their farm in Kernot when I need to stay over. The generosity of people feels endless to me.
A neighbour over the back fence messaged me when they had heard about my house, telling me they were away for the next four days and where the key was if the dogs and I would like to stay there?
I didn't know them very well. Occasional chats over the fence and on the beach over the past six or so years is it. They said you can stay longer if you like! Their house is a doggie house. They love Cyril and Sasha. Cyril and Sasha love them and being here and being so close to home is a great thing.
This has been a pretty heavy journey of personal loss and intense sadness; more about the loss of a place of my own. It’s the Fortress of Solitude. The relief one feels when the door is shut on the world and attention relaxes in the familiar smells and sights and sounds of home. That's what's missing for us. But what we have here, now, is not far from that perfect home feeling.
It's weird. Up till this point I guess it has been personal recovery and finding some normality. Doing things that we like to do, running my business and the commitment to community stuff continues but isn't as easy to organise as it usually is.
The other day my housemate asked me if I knew much about trauma. Not really, it wasn't a thing when I studied nursing. They said that their goal was to provide me with an environment that supported my recovery from the trauma of my house being burned by providing a stable and comfortable home environment to make life easier for us. Wow! How blessed are we?
The care of my community and family has provided a kind of buoyancy that has carried me and the dogs through life since the fire and will far beyond.
One of the lessons out of this experience (apart from to double check that insurance is in place) is the intense effect of the power of kindness.
EVERYONE in my small town knows about the fire. The enquiries range on the spectrum from (left) voyeuristic curiosity to (right) deep care and compassion. It is palpable. As a result of this experience I feel more aware and able to extend the kind of interest on the right side of the scale when I meet someone and enquire after their welfare. Really listening and feeling for them whatever it is they are feeling and offering a lending hand or ear or whatever is wanted.
What a precious life lesson.
Thank YOU!
Love Jen
I decided I wasn't going to panic because the important things were in place. Dogs OK, chooks and ducks were locked up so I knew they were safe, I'm OK: it's OK.
I had 15 minutes more driving and decided to stay calm. My phone rang again. Dave had pocket dialled me. I heard: "Barney, get out! Get out, man! The fire's in the roof". The sound of sirens. "The fireys are here."
I hung up and felt further relief because the CFA were there.
Then my other next door neighbour, John called. His daughter was fighting the flames coming out of my second bedroom window with a hose from their side of the fence and Cyril, my Jack Russell, was last seen running towards the beach.
My sole mission now was getting to my little boy. I drove past my street and down Beach Street. Parked, jumped out of the car and ran down the steps to the beach. Not there. Up the track. Not there. Up the other way? Nope. Then I decided to see if he was at home.
A few metres into the street I was met by a woman I didn't know very well from a few houses down. She hugged me and spoke words I can't remember and walked me in a vice-like hug-walk all the way to my house. I remember feeling uncomfortable because it was difficult to walk with someone hugging you so tight but also immensely comforted by her fierce care for me.
By the time I arrived the fire was out and Lynda, Dave's partner, came down the street carrying my greyhound, Sasha (25kg). Cyril was a shaking mess under the car next door. I scrambled under the car and grabbed him and hugged them both for a time and we all felt great relief.
A chat with the fireys, words of which I have no memory, hugs of thanks to my neighbours who fought the freaking fire in my absence!
The next thing I knew my kind neighbour Jan was ushering me into her little house down the street that didn't have anyone in it for a few weeks and where the dogs and I stayed very comfortably for a week while we recovered from the shock.
Bianca from the CFA came to take some details. Her approach and care and the way she made me feel still linger. Her priority was my welfare. There was no doubting that. It was such a wonderful feeling to experience the kindness of strangers.
Since then I have been inundated with care and support from the most unexpected places. Thanks to Michael Kelzke who lent his huge tarp to put over the house and Evan, Brian, George, John, Ross, Michael's brother Brian (hope I haven't missed anyone) managed the very tricky and laborious task of getting it up on the roof and secured before the rain.
My friend Linda, with her incredible care, practical help and advice, Barb with her bag of toiletries, people who have donated clothes, Michelle and Mick with their listening ears and floor for me and the dogs to lie on, the many who offered me a bed in their home. Thank you. My sister Annie's friend Steven Chai who is a retired civil engineer who has amazingly kindly taken on my “project” which is complex and ever changing and there is no definite solution in sight as I write. Just decisions to be made. Hard ones. And the clean-up ...
My client and her daughters in Kernot have provided me and Cyril and Sasha with a room in their farm in Kernot when I need to stay over. The generosity of people feels endless to me.
A neighbour over the back fence messaged me when they had heard about my house, telling me they were away for the next four days and where the key was if the dogs and I would like to stay there?
I didn't know them very well. Occasional chats over the fence and on the beach over the past six or so years is it. They said you can stay longer if you like! Their house is a doggie house. They love Cyril and Sasha. Cyril and Sasha love them and being here and being so close to home is a great thing.
This has been a pretty heavy journey of personal loss and intense sadness; more about the loss of a place of my own. It’s the Fortress of Solitude. The relief one feels when the door is shut on the world and attention relaxes in the familiar smells and sights and sounds of home. That's what's missing for us. But what we have here, now, is not far from that perfect home feeling.
It's weird. Up till this point I guess it has been personal recovery and finding some normality. Doing things that we like to do, running my business and the commitment to community stuff continues but isn't as easy to organise as it usually is.
The other day my housemate asked me if I knew much about trauma. Not really, it wasn't a thing when I studied nursing. They said that their goal was to provide me with an environment that supported my recovery from the trauma of my house being burned by providing a stable and comfortable home environment to make life easier for us. Wow! How blessed are we?
The care of my community and family has provided a kind of buoyancy that has carried me and the dogs through life since the fire and will far beyond.
One of the lessons out of this experience (apart from to double check that insurance is in place) is the intense effect of the power of kindness.
EVERYONE in my small town knows about the fire. The enquiries range on the spectrum from (left) voyeuristic curiosity to (right) deep care and compassion. It is palpable. As a result of this experience I feel more aware and able to extend the kind of interest on the right side of the scale when I meet someone and enquire after their welfare. Really listening and feeling for them whatever it is they are feeling and offering a lending hand or ear or whatever is wanted.
What a precious life lesson.
Thank YOU!
Love Jen