Today marks 30 years since the outbreak of a devastating wildfire that swept through the Oakland-Berkeley hills of the San Francisco Bay Area in 1991. More than 3,000 homes burned in the fire, and 25 people lost their lives.
I happened to know two of them: my beloved 6th grade teacher Dr. Phil Loggins and my high schoolmate Gabriela Reed. I had just turned 15, and now 30 years later it still hurts deeply to think of their loss and the lives they could have lived — and touched — since then.
Dr. Loggins, 51 when he died in his carport that day, overcome by the smoke and heat, was one of the most influential and impactful teachers I had. His “doctor” title alone is a big indication. He was a science Ph.D who decided to teach public school sixth graders like me about both the natural world and the meaning of personal growth.
His approach was unusual and effective. For one thing, he loved animals and included live versions of them in his lessons. His classroom was filled with tanks of snakes and rodents. In science class, we learned about the taxonomy of classifying plants and animals, while laughing in amazement as Dr. Loggins let his boa constrictor snake named Honey Buns encircle us on our shoulders.
He nurtured our creativity, reading books aloud to the class in theatrical voices so we could appreciate spoken rather than just written language. In one memorable exercise, he turned off the overhead lights and played the opening instrumental theme to the 1986 movie Top Gun, asking us to let our thoughts soar with the music. With the lights back on and inspiration achieved, we then went about our creative writing with the images we had seen in our minds.
He had a profound love of nature, which he wanted to instill in us. On a weeklong school camping trip near Point Reyes, he had us go on solo hikes to be alone with our thoughts in the wilderness, so we could appreciate the world around us without the distraction of conversation and friends (what he would have thought of smart phones). He showed us photos he took on a projector of amazing scenes from his journeys in nature. It took on added poignancy that he once displayed a photo of a beautiful fallen leaf, bright in primary colors, and he reminded us, “even in death, life can be beautiful.”
I wonder how much of the work I do today on climate change and environmental preservation is due to his influence. He taught hundreds of kids in his too-short career, and I know his legacy lives on in part through his students and those to whom we’ve tried to pass on his lessons.
Gabriela Reed was 18 when she died in the fire, visiting a parent and trapped in her car as the fire exploded in heat and size. She was two years ahead of me, a senior in high school, but she had sat next to me in intro Spanish class, and I had gotten to know her a bit. She had a wonderful and mischievous sense of both humor and fun, quick to laugh and to support her friends. She had such youthful energy and vibrancy that I still struggle to imagine she’s not with us anymore.
At the time of the fire, I attributed their deaths and the other tremendous losses that day to an act of nature. But now I know, from working on wildfire issues here in California, that what happened that day was in fact preventable.
The brutality of the fire was the result of decades of fire suppression and lack of vegetation management. In simpler terms, the area was overgrown with trees and shrubs, including flammable and non-native Eucalyptus trees, which were growing too close to homes that featured vulnerable wood-shingled roofs. When the fire hit, it should have been a “cool” grass fire that would never leap to the crowns of well-spaced, large native trees like oaks and redwoods. It should have been easily contained, and if not containable, it should have moved slowly enough for residents to evacuate safely.
Going forward, we need to dramatically boost fuel treatments across the state, as climate change makes these wildfire conditions even more severe. More people are now aware of the fire danger and the impacts of smoke, so the politics is supportive. But the work is still happening too slowly, as more fires burn and more lives are devastated and lost.
Nothing can be done now to change those tragic events 30 years ago, but I hope that remembering the suffering and lives lost will increase the urgency of the task. And in the meantime, I at least will take a moment to remember and grieve these loved ones taken from us too soon.
Rest in peace, Dr. Loggins and Gabriela.
