PERSPECTIVE FROM THE 19^TH HOLE:  This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf.  Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all of my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist.  This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.  I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf.  The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie.  And it is where you want to be on a golf course.

My wife and I drove east up the Santiam Canyon the other day.

It was a familiar drive for us, having taken it many times to visit Central Oregon. 

But, it was different this time.  Our purpose was to take a first-hand look at the result of wildfires that ravaged the area earlier this year.  We delayed this trip for a number of weeks because we did not want to get in the way of residents who were heading back to see whether their homes and other belongings had survived.

What follows are some of the on-site perceptions we formed during and after the visit – and, if I was better at posting a blog, I might include photos of the “new canyon.”  But, since I’m not, you might consider taking the trip yourself.

• It definitely was not pleasant to look at the devastation.  We could only imagine what it was like for residents to try to escape the fire and, after doing so, to go back to survey the damage.

• As we got to the area of the first fire damage, we literally could still smell the burn.  Not smoke.  The burn.

• One major perception was this:  Fire proceeds in a random way.  What do I mean by this?  Well, for one illustration, the Cedars Restaurant at the beginning of the Detroit community was burned to the ground.  About 20 or 30 feet away, the Mile-High Grocery Store was still standing (though, given the ongoing effects of fire, was closed).

• Another example of randomness occurred as we looked at the stands of timber.  One swath was burned by fire.  An adjoining stand escaped and was still green.

• As I recounted this aspect of our trip up the canyon, one of my friends told me that he understood that fire behaves much like cyclones in the Midwest.  One side of a street might be demolished by a cyclone.  The other side would escape.  As we saw first-hand, fire behaves in a similar fashion.

• Downed timber?  It was everywhere including by the side of the road.  One of my friends who works for the Oregon Department of Transportation told me this week that log trucks and crews will be spending the next two weeks collecting downed timber.  Some of what is collected, once the burned bark is off, might even have market value.

As a final point in this blog, we met recently a couple who had to evacuate in the region around Elkhorn as the fire lurked only feet from a home they had built over the previous two years.  They made it out, but, then, a few days later, had to return to see that, in fact, the home had been leveled. 

It was an emotional experience for them.

And that is a point to remember as we reflect back on the fire season, in Oregon, Washington and California:  What happened is more than damage to buildings and belongings; it represents torn emotions and a changed way of life.