Sunday morning at just before 4 a.m., a driver in a gasoline tanker either failed to slow enough or his breaks failed to slow the truck enough (we may never know since the truck has been reduced to practically nothing) to make the curve on the I880 offramp. His truck flipped onto its side and moments later, exploded. The driver, luckily, was able to get out alive. He stumbled from his truck in shock and walked away looking for assistance because he thought he was dying. He walked 13 blocks before he found a cab (whose driver he tried to pay when they reached the hospital) and asked to be taken to the hospital.
The fire melted the overpass above it, and it collapsed. This sucks, and it will cost money and time in commutes. But it isn't a tragedy. Tragedy was averted due to the earliness of the hour, for the most part.
As I mentioned yesterday, the driver is being villified in the press when the reality is probably that he was a guy just trying to do his job and provide the best life he could for his kids. I feel badly for him.
Early yesterday morning, a fire started in a dumpster on the other side of the continent. Normally, I wouldn't care about a dumpster fire, but this one spread to the building next to it - the south hall of Eastern Market in DC, and eventually destroyed the building.
Eastern Market was built on land that had been designated for market use during Jefferson's administration. That building was built in 1873...it's older than most buildings in California. It has survived the death of all the other public markets that once provided community centers in the district.
I loved Eastern Market. I would go there mostly to visit the craft and flea markets on the weekend. But I've also enjoyed pancake breakfasts and crabcake sandwiches in the south hall. It was a place to enjoy an early Sunday afternoon with friends and neighbors.
Luckily, they will be rebuilding.
A year ago, a spark ignited in my life that would soon be a conflagration. I had posted an ad on craigslist looking for dating fun. I had titled the ad "Beltaine Magic." Beltaine is a fire holiday, if ever there was one. The festivities often would last into the night with people drinking and jumping the bonfire and finding someone interesting to head off to the bushes with. A child born 9 months later was considered a blessing...a Beltaine child.
My blessing came in a fairly non-descript response to my ad which asked if I'd been to the Beltaine ritual the previous Sunday. It now seems completely normal to me that S would not have responded in a typical manner. This is a lovely fire that I will continue to feed for a very long time.