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January 20, 2003 ~ Dorm Fire, Healing
Monday.
After work today, I took the pedestrian bridge over Warren Wilson Road to the student residence side of campus. I couldn't help but stare at what I found there. Schafer Dormitory was gone. A pile of charred rubble. Schafer is... well, was a dorm made up of four long buildings arranged in a square, with a courtyard in the center. (Here is the official website for Schafer). Every building except the commons building burnt down to the foundation in a fire very early yesterday morning, and even the commons was badly charred with the windows blown out from the heat.
Over night, almost 100 students lost everything that they owned. Luckily all of the students got out alive, with only one woman sustaining serious injuries (she jumped out of a window). Sadly, several pets died in the fire. Schafer is the second-largest dorm on campus, and, for a small student body of only 700 students, this fire hit the community very hard, displacing quite a large contingent. What a horrible way to start the new semester.
I can't help but relate to it in the sense of, What if I had been there? What if Morgan and I still lived in a dorm and it burnt down? Back when we were students at the college, when we were working over the summers, we stayed in Schafer, for it was the summer student dorm. We called Schafer home three summers in a row. (The pictures of our dorm room in this entry were of a room in Schafer). For Morgan and I, a dorm room wasn't simply a place that you stayed for a few months away from home at college. A dorm room was our home. Everything we owned we kept there. It would have been a pretty big shock for us. And I'm sure that we were not the only students that lived like that. Several people have probably found themselves in a similar position, after yesterday.
It was very strange to look at a former home and see a pile of rubble and char. I walked along the back side, picking out the places that our old rooms used to be.
I'm glad that no one was killed. The people who started it must be feeling pretty terrible by now. They were two ex-students who were celebrating their end of college by burning books in the courtyard. Wonderful. Then, when told by current residents to put the fire out, they put it "out" and placed the remains of it in a recycling shed in the courtyard. The books were still smoldering, however, and caught the recycling shed on fire, which then spread to the nearby building, which spread to the other two buildings... I know I'd be feeling pretty angry if I had lived there... An accident I could accept pretty well, but two idiots burning their books? Just the fact that they were burning books in the first place has me angry. Oy.
Of course, the fire has been in the local paper, front page, for two days. There are stories here, here, and (for information on those who started it) here. Some pictures of the fire can be found here.
After I passed Schafer I made my way back behind the gym, across the soccer fields, and up to Suicide Ridge. It was a beautiful day, at least sixty degrees (after a weekend of snow) and the squirrels were out full force. I turned right at the top of suicide ridge, taking the Cold Springs trail. The rhododendron groves and stands of mountain laurel were a comforting change of scenery. My mind, as always, cleared as soon as I was in the woods.
When I came by the little grove where the hut is, I decided to check on it. Do you remember the hut? When I first found it, I put pictures up in this journal, but I can't remember what entry. I still have the pictures, though. These are probably two years old. The hut has changed some since then. The vegetation has grown back in around and on top of it, the cracks between the logs have been filled in with a clay mixture, and there are tight-fitting shutters on the two windows and a snug front door with an inlaid heart. It's a very snug, homely little hut now. (Yes, that's a mountain laurel growing out of the roof. It is rooted in the dirt floor of the hut.)
As I came up on it, though, I heard voices from inside. I hesitated. "Hey, come on in!" someone called. I came to the door and found two young women inside. Obviously students.
I sat on the stone threshold of the doorway. "Are you two living in here?"
"Oh, no," one of them answered, "but I think someone is." She gestured to the sleeping bags in the corner. "Probably someone from Schafer."
I nodded. "That would make sense. I'm glad it's useful for someone."
"It's such a warm little hut!" She gestured to the fireplace. "Even without a fire. It's very well built."
"I knew the man who built it," I smiled.
"Really? Then you were a student here?"
"Yes, I was, though I'm staff now."
"When did you graduate?"
"Just last year."
"Who built it?"
"Oh, he's graduated too. He's a great guy. Extremely friendly."
"I'll bet."
"His name is Red, or, at least, that's what everyone calls him. He has long red hair that he wears in two braids. He was on the farm crew when he was here. He carried each and every one of the stones for this hut all the way along the trail in a wheelbarrow. He lived in here quite a bit, too. He's one of those people who can talk to anyone and make them feel perfectly at ease."
I wasn't sure why, but a lump came up in my throat.
We chatted a little more about the college, the woods, and the hut, then I left them and went on along the trail. I thought of the friendly, un-fearful, adaptable quality of most Wilson students, how the community had come together instantly with clothing, housing, and toiletry donations for the residents of Schafer, how people like Red gave so much to this college that they loved. The fire hurt us, but we will heal, for we have such strong bonds, here. We were lucky, considering. I feel for all of those students, but, at the same time, I know that they will come through okay.
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