Because of Our Child

Jen delazzeri did not want to cover fires for Channel 4. Any of the fires. And this year there were many. Fires were the story of the summer, but so far she'd managed to get away with simply interviewing fire managers from time to time. The smell of the smoke and the haze in the air were the same smoke and haze experienced by everyone else in Colorado in that summer of fire and drought--everyone else, that is, who wasn't close to a blaze. The fire situation in the Front Range, around Denver, had been less extreme than that in the western part of the state. It had seemed likely that Jen could live out the summer reporting water rationing and the effect of smoky air on historical monuments and on people with compromised respiratory systems. But suddenly her reprieve was over. On Silver Jack Ridge, two smoke jumpers had been entrapped and had died. Today, the following day, thefire continued to burn out of control, covering almost two thousand acres. Now, outfitted in green fire-retardant pants and a yellow fire shirt like the firefighters, Jen sat aboard a helicopter. For the camera, she let her long hair, thick, dark and curly, spill down her back, though she'd already told the camera crew she was getting that hair inside her clothing at the first sign of a spark. Like the firefighters, she also wore a hard hat, and on her feet were leather boots for the helicopter ride toward Silver Jack Lake and Silver Jack Ridge, in an area called the Sawtooth Range. For Channel 4--and for a chance at a spot on network television--Jen had agreed to do this, to land in the thick of the danger. Her first jobs in television had been with small local stations. She'd had to lug camera equipment,everything,herself. In Colorado, that had often meant driving to obscure locations to interview, well, eccentric characters. And she was making decent money, now. Not great, but enough. But not enough for this. She didn't want to ask any of the questions that needed to be asked. Because if she asked the questions, she'd become angry. Angry at fire supervisors who had let the situation develop. Angry at herself for asking firefighters questions they shouldn't have to answer, for voicing criticism they should never have to hear. For instance, she would have to mention Storm King Mountain, the South Canyon fire of 1994, in whichfourteen firefighters had died. She would have to ask fire personnel if there were similarities between the situations; and she already knew the answer to that, had seen aerial photographs. The steep terrain, the gulleys. Mann Gulch, Storm KingMakal Canyon, though the loss of life there had been smaller. That had been eclipsed by the greater tragedy in Colorado that same summer. Jen wanted no part of any of it. In the helicopter, she peered through the glass and jotted notes on a pad. Over the years, she'd found the practice to be calming, an anchor for her in highly charged situations. Focusing on paper, forming questions, anticipating all the paths the answers might take, kept her anxiety at bay. Later she would take refuge in her own presence in front of the camera, her voice, her posture. Notes to herself from life outside work crowded the borders of the pad, perpendicular to her fire notes.Call River Spirit Dance Supply.An 800 number. That was for Elena's new dance clothes, promised for the new school year still months away. After the inevitable dispute about how much it was reasonable to spend, and whether two crop tops were truly enough for a sixth-grader who danced every single day. Elena's dancing every single day was no problem for Jen. Aside from being convenient--her daughter was occupied while she herself was at the station and on assignments--Elena had chosen an interest, no, an obses-sion, that Jen could understand. It was only in the years after Makal Canyon that Jen herself haEarly, Margot is the author of 'Because of Our Child ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373714018 and ISBN 0373714017.