When I get some time, I’m going to catch up on things. I’m going to dedicate my time to doing so. I’m going to write about escaping a raging fire and a few things in between. I’ll speak about sub-par restaurants and price-gouged hotels that left many evacuees stranded out in the cold. I’ll tell you about the woman who lost everything and asked public officials what to do next. I’ll share with you my amazement when the officials told her to see them after the meeting. That’s not a good answer if you weren’t lucky enough to be there and were viewing it, as most, sub-streaming online. I’ll explain why I am typing without paragraphs. But first, I met a black woman hiker who almost got stranded on Mt. Shasta above the smoke. She’s on her way to Alaska to see the Northern Lights. She’s old school. She’s traveling alone with maps. I helped her put two apps on her cellphone and she seemed pleased. Not many blacks come through here. Especially from Iowa. We shared a few stories. We discussed the fire and her travels north. It was a meeting of black souls. We enjoyed an embrace. I’m sure we both felt grounded. Only my people know what I speak. I introduced her to my wife. I jokingly apologized to her for my wife not being black. I know I’ll be seeing An if she comes back through, and I am hopeful she’ll be reading me along the way.
