Last year and this year have been shocking in the violence of weather. Such terrible scenes of destruction appear on news reports: whole neighborhoods reduced to ash, or flood waters sweeping away homes and historic bridges, or tornados scouring buildings away and leaving only bare, damaged earth.
Sometimes the news seems like a strange opera, the kind where one chorus is singing, “There’s no such thing as global warming, there have always been weather disasters and earthquakes and hurricanes”; and the contra chorus singing, “But look at all this terrible destruction. What shall we do?”
The following is a quote about his losses from someone named Rick Spraycar, one of many victims of the 2012 fires in Colorado Springs, Colorado, and when I read it, it almost seemed like poetry, terribly sad poetry that perhaps sums up the sense of so much loss by so many:
a bunch of things my mother had made.
It's hard to put it into words.
Everything I owned.