It’s Spring - With Fire: Healing the Exhaustion of Caring

It’s Spring. The maple tree out my bedroom window on the 6th floor, is tall and strong and is still leafless, with half its leaf pods just starting to crack open. But it is decorated with its dream of spring greenery. The rest of the leaf pods have burst open, and the tree is covered with what looks like green popcorn or fuzzballs randomly rained on the branches.

In a few weeks, the tree will be so thick with an abundance of green maple leaves, that I won't be able to see the backyard from that window. Only the sky above will be visible and from the east-facing window, morning sunlight will be flooding in - warm, bright, and almost blinding.

I walk down to the end of the Open Street where the planes come in low over the three-story houses, dodging the higher apartment buildings (just barely, or so it seems as I look up at the belly of the planes). The street islands are full of spring colors - purples and yellows, pinks and oranges in various shades. The bushes are full-leaved and vibrant. The cherry and pear blossoms decorate some trees. Many trees have a green fuzz and glow, with leaves birthing themselves into the warm open air.

​But down the Open Street, further than I can see from this end, is a burnt apartment building complex where a large section of the roof collapsed. Hundreds had to flee without time to take anything with them. The fire started in one apartment in a complex of 150 apartments. The fire had spread quickly because the tenant fled leaving the door open. The rest of the tenants had to escape down the fire escapes. It took 11 hours to put the fire under control and it sent 19 firemen to the hospital. Everyone was evacuated and those in need were placed in hotels and shelters.

There is a Total Vacate Order placed on the building now. Most people still can't get back into their apartments to see if anything is recoverable after 11 hours of fire, smoke, and water damage. The top floors would not be accessible at any time and most likely would not have anything left to recover. The tenants being sheltered at hotels have been extended an extra week.

The mayoral campaigns continued (in subdued pandemic fashion). The primary is soon - in June - and the chosen primary candidate is usually the voted winner on Election Day. But the candidates are mostly silent about this disaster. The landlords with empty apartments are silent. Aside from the many city texts of information for the fire victims, the silence is deafening.

My neighborhood is not a wealthy one, but it cares. The community has flooded collection sites with food, bedding, clothing, hygiene products, etc., and it has quickly filled a go-fund-me with mostly small donations. The city sends out texts for the fire victims, but not all of them may have access to that information.

With the drama of the fire battle over, the news media has dropped it (old news of following up on people suddenly made homeless, does not keep their viewers watching nor advertisers paying for spots). It seems impossible to follow up on what's happening to these people. Many were essential workers and very few people really care what happens to essential workers.

The mayoral candidates are not offering solutions. The people who have the bully horn, the money, and/or the power don't care. The victims are basically just cannon fodder in a skewed and unbalanced society. Essential workers are so easy to replace. So, who cares?

Many here in the neighborhood really do care. But we don’t have the resources or the political leverage to do what’s needed. And for candidates, many see a neighborhood of immigrants as an unlikely source of electoral support, since many residents are not yet eligible to vote.

We are also a neighborhood which was devastated a year ago. We were at the bull’s eye of the global pandemic epicenter. We were surrounded by death – a nearby hospital in surge overwhelm, people going off in ambulances and never seen again by their loved ones, people staying home and dying there for fear of dying in the hospital, refrigerator trucks driving through full of sheet wrapped bodies to be buried on the potter’s field island, and the morgues and funeral homes were overwhelmed.

We became a closer community. We helped each other through our grief and illnesses. We stood together for racial equality and human rights. We worked together to make our Open Street a success and fought to have it made permanent.

All these kept us going through this unnecessarily prolonged pandemic. But there is also an exhaustion in constant caring (as the frontline workers, doctors, nurses, and EMTs know all too well). Time for self-care is needed. Finding that balance of energy between what goes out and what comes in is needed. We do what we can while trying to heal ourselves. And we pray that those people suddenly made homeless will find their way to healing and a better life. We hope they can stay in or find their way back here, because they are a part of this community.

We heal ourselves walking along our well fought for Open Street and stand or sit at the intersection to meditate for a few moments on the names inscribed on the road of those whose lives were lost to racist violence.

The overwhelming desire is to heal.

The energy of this beautiful Spring is healing.