What I Should Have Packed

Or, regrets about not getting more out of our house before we evacuated.

That is our camper van. And yes, it is alive. For scale, I can stand up in there and lie horizontally from side to side. It was this empty the day we evacuated in it. And yet, all I managed to throw into it, as Emily diverted from Target in our other car, was our kids, a bag of clothes for them, some laptops, and plastic box of files.

Yes, I had no idea our house would burn down. But I did pack some things. And I often find myself lying awake at night kicking myself for not getting more of our things out.

So, here’s a thematic list of what I would have packed if I knew structures were burning, and that ours would burn too. One person asked for this list as they live in the woods where there’s always fire danger. I hope this helps.

Clothes!

(a recreation of my part of our old closet for illustrative and dramatic purposes)

I should have PacMan’d the shit out of our closets. I mean, I wish I’d just walked in there, arms wide, and lifted all our clothes, hangers in tow, and thrown them into the back of the van. My wife, specifically, spent years accumulating her wardrobe, and it’s super stressful rebuilding it right now.

I think I could have gotten almost all our clothes out. It would have taken me 5 minutes.

Clothes are personality. They’re an expression. They’re curated. Take things you spent time curating.

Ski gear.

(a proud father with two jr. shredders)

Our family skis. Emily and I got about 30 days in last year (most of those being 2-hour sessions at Eldora with the kids). It’s an escape. It’s a thing we love to do. And all that equipment took time to acquire. Ski boots need to fit just right. Skis can’t be too long, and can’t be too short. Pants and jackets must be warm and look cool.

Most of it was just sitting there in our garage. I must have passed by it 15 times in the final 30 minutes we spent in our house before we evacuated. I should have just grabbed it and thrown it on top of the heap of clothes that wasn’t in the back of the van (because, as we know, I didn’t get those out either).

The moral of the story here; if your family has a hobby that requires equipment, get that equipment out. You’ll need it to escape to the things you love doing together in the weeks that follow.

Art.

(look toward the top-right; there’s art there)

Over the years Emily and I traveled places. We went to France with our friends, the Carr’s, and bought a painting from a local artist which hung near our front door. Before we were married, we went to San Francisco for New Year, went to an art gallery, and bought a lithograph by Robert Kipniss after hearing his story from the curator. And in this photo, hanging to the right of our TV, were two paintings we bought from a street artist in Buenos Aires back in 2010.

The art wasn’t expensive, per se (save the Kipniss piece if you’re reading this dear Insurance Adjuster), but it had a story. That’s what we lost; the story.

I could have easily done a sweep and pulled these pieces off the wall and stowed it on top of the imaginary pile in our van. That would have taken me 45 seconds.

Bring stuff with you that has a story attached to it; you can’t re-create that.

Billy.

(poor Billy)

My greatest regret, by a mile, is not taking Billy with us. He died in the fire. And this is the most traumatic part of losing the house for our kids. They loved Billy. Just last night, our son, Carter, looked at pictures of him and immediately burst into tears.

Hamsters are nocturnal and sleep during the day. Billy was sleeping in his cage as I packed our kids’ clothes for the night before we evacuated. His hovel was in a little plastic compartment right at the top of the cage, and I could see him sleeping there during the frenzy.

The smoke alarms went off, and I rushed our kids out. I left Billy.

Take those pesky, $9.00 pets with you as you leave. To your kids, they’re part of the family. And losing them creates lasting scars.