Figure 14.27. This painting of Otis Strong was created by a sociology student who was a fire survivor. In their art, they reflect suffering they still experience even years after the fire. They actually burned part of the canvas, so that the art piece would smell like smoke, creatively demonstrating the pervasiveness of their loss.

More than two years after the fire, the work continues. As late as January 2023, modular homes are still being delivered in Otis. Can we call this a success? It depends on how we measure. By the end of the fall of 2023, over 155 families had returned to put new homes on their properties. Some were built from the ground up. Most were modular homes or trailers. For some, it’s the nicest home they ever lived in. For nearly all of them, it is the only thing it needs to be: home. I spoke to someone just last week who had only been home for a few days. Every night, she said, she went out onto her deck. She’d forgotten what the stars looked like without city lights.

Over 100 families have found new homes away from Otis. Some bought new homes. Most relocated to apartments and other similar housing. Even before the fire, it was difficult to find affordable housing in Lincoln County, and after, it was nearly impossible. That most fire survivors were able to remain in north Lincoln County is remarkable. Dozens of others, however, have moved to other parts of the city, county, state, or country. Some did it because they had to. They couldn’t recover in Otis. For others, the fire was the impetus for change that they already wanted to make.

The connections that the survivors and supporters made with each other remain. We are no longer so disconnected. However, not every bond in Otis has improved with time. When the Volunteer Clean-up finally packed up their things with the arrival of state clean-up crews, some relationships went with them. Some of the original leaders of the effort have drifted apart. No longer tightly bound by the day’s mission of cleaning up one more home, and finding the funds to keep going for one more week, cultural and political differences once again define their relationships. But certainly not for everyone.

The transgender activist and the evangelical minister have dinner together when they can and talk about their lives and their beliefs. The Black leader from the Portland metro area is now living and working in Otis, bringing CRT to take action in disaster relief nationwide. Although our community is stronger, what happened to the fire survivors in our stories in the end?

As you might expect from the stories throughout this chapter, Fernando and his family are doing well. Fernando continues to work connecting Latinx families with the wider community, and to grow educational opportunities for everyone in Lincoln County. When I was at his house last week, his new crop of strawberries was almost ready to pick, and his first fruit trees were starting to blossom. He and his family remain deeply rooted in Otis, committed to creating community with all of us.

Carol and Tommy are still struggling. Carol left the fire survivor hotel without a solid plan. She returned to the insatiable life she had tried so hard to get away from. The last time I spoke to her, she was living in a friend’s attic. She said she hoped to only be there for a few days. Tommy is still living at the transition motel, struggling to find a home. The social problems he originally experienced limit his chances of returning home as well.

And Wendy and Betty? Their stories have come to an end.

When Wendy left the fire survivor hotel, one of her friends said to me she thought Wendy would be dead in a week. She was off by two days. Wendy returned to the life she’d fled the day of the fire, and died from a drug overdose

Betty died on Aug. 9, 2021. We held a memorial service with nearly two dozen people. When we were done, we walked to the beach and dropped the flowers in the receding tide. Betty had died living in a hotel alone, just like she feared she would.

Betty and Wendy died. Tommy and Carol have an uncertain future at best. From these four stories, it’s tempting to wonder if all of our individual and collective action was a failure. People died because they didn’t get what they needed. The four stories that concluded above are tragedies, and they speak to how social problems are sometimes nearly impossible to escape.

However, in the final analysis, we succeeded. EMFR started with one mission, to give donors a place to give their money. In the end, EMFR became a hub for communication, connecting survivors and providers so that the community became stronger. From that beginning, the Cascade Relief team was born. CRT continues to help locally and around the nation. The Grange is now managed by CRT and continues to support the basic needs of survivors, with the goal of supporting everyone in the community. Landscaping with Love is fighting climate change one plant at a time and hopes to open its nursery to the wider community. Latino Outreach, once an offshoot of EMFR, is now its own vibrant organization celebrating culture, dance, music, education, and connection.

EMFR itself is closed. This is actually a success. The organization did what it set out to do, distribute money and connect a community. Indeed, when I wrote the last check from the fund in August of 2022, I may not have known what people that money had gone to, but I knew what it had paid for. The last funds paid for an accessibility ramp for one family and a new trailer for a survivor who had been living in a hotel for two years. Two more families survived and thrived because the people of Otis did it together.

All of us are #OTISSTRONG!

14.6.4 Licenses and Attributions for Chapter Summary

Open Content, Original

“Chapter Summary” by Bethany Grace Howe and Kimberly Puttman is licensed under CC BY 4.0.

All Rights Reserved Content

Figure 14.27. “Painting of Otis Strong, Burned” by Anonymous Student is all rights reserved and included with permission.