Resources for the Community
Fires on Montezuma Avenue by Anne McClain Skag and I have lived on Montezuma Avenue in Forest Knolls since 1983. Living here has been wonderful, like living permanently at summer camp. There are worries, however, chief among them fire, flood and earthquake. For several years we felt particularly stalked by fire. Over the course of about seven years, three house fires destroyed homes nearby, marching ever closer to our home. Coming home from work late one evening we were passed by an ambulance, sirens wailing. Our street was a mass of flashing lights and fire trucks. Four houses away our neighbors’ house had burned down and two lives were lost. Rumors were whispered that it was an arson attack because of a drug deal gone wrong. We never learned the
truth, but it was certain that it was a tragedy. Next, it was the house three doors away. Shortly after midnight our next door neighbor woke us up. (I am always thankful for our wonderful neighbors in our little neck of the woods.) This time no one was killed, but musician Luther Tucker was injured. Finally (and I hope finally!), the house across the street caught fire early one morning. By this time I had become expert at dialing 911! The house was owned and built by a real character known as “Rocky.” Rocky could always be seen cruising the neighborhood in his big old car full of stuff wearing sheepskin slippers and a kerchief around his neck secured with a bone. The house was a bit of a Winchester Mystery House with doors and hallways leading nowhere and some questionable electrical work, three units, and small propane tanks being used for cooking indoors. Although people lost all of their belongings, no one was hurt. Things have settled down considerably since those days, and we now have better fire hydrants on Montezuma!
Fire on Montezuma, Forest Knolls, 1996. (Photo by Skag Dukkers)
In Lieu Of by Stefanie Marlis I go up to the serpentine crown
above the tumbling valley, and the dog disappears. Like a swami with two bodies a deer climbs over the edge of the ridge, stands, lifting and lowering her foreleg, unsettling the green dust.
When the well’s dry, we know the worth of water. Benjamin Franklin
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50 th Anniversary
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