After the storm, a glimpse of sun

It’s not always easy being 90.
I personally don’t have the experience, but as the grandson of a 90-year-old, I can appreciate how much effort it takes to lift a log off the wood pile and start a fire when the electricity is out.
Last week’s storm was a trying time for my grandmother, Baba (that’s short for Babcia, which is Polish for “grandma”).
Baba has lived in the same home in Felton since the early 1970s, surrounded by faithful neighbors who watch out for her well-being every day of the year.
There was nothing much they could do, though, when disaster struck last Tuesday.
No one was hurt, so let me explain.
A large redwood tree stands in the middle of Baba’s driveway as a sentry, mostly blocking the unsightly view of traffic that whizzes past on the road in front of her house.
After work Tuesday (Baba drives around Santa Cruz and delivers 15 meals four days a week for Meals On Wheels), the storm had subsided enough for her to pick up her mail.
As she tells it, she walked down a short hill to her mailbox, picked up a few letters and turned back up the driveway. She heard a loud crack and looked up, only to see a large segment of her redwood break off and fall toward her.
Somehow the tree — which later I estimated to be 2½ feet in diameter and more than 40 feet long — missed her.
The growth fell about 3 feet in front of her and, with a loud boom, crushed a series of telephone and power lines behind her. She was trapped in the middle of the two obstacles.
Before I go on, it’s important to point out that Baba goes to the movies or plays bridge after work almost every day, making her one of the most independent single women I know, of any age.
Baba could have panicked and perhaps fainted. Instead, ignoring another woman across the street, she climbed through the downed branches sticking out from the tree and walked into her house, with the mail still in her hand.
With no electricity, no phone line and no heat, she called my mother on her cell phone to explain what had happened.
Flash forward to the next day, when I stopped by to visit.
Baba was clearly shaken by the experience, but as she explained what had happened, something amazing came up.
Baba said that when she woke up the next morning, her living room looked different. I thought she might have been mistaken, but she was more observant than I.
She explained that when she got up from bed that morning, there was sunlight streaming into the living room. The tree branches had thinned, and sunlight came in directly through where the redwood growth had fallen.
I don’t think there is a much more hopeful thing she could have said. In simple terms, it’s the greatest “glass-half-full” statement I’ve ever personally heard. In a more profound way, it shows hope that things will always get better.
It took a few days for crews to restore power and cable TV to her home. A tree crew cut up the tree, unblocking her driveway and allowing her to go back to work. It took another day to restore the phone line.
Then, yesterday, she hosted a game of bridge at her home. Four ladies came to play, just as they’ve done for years. Almost everything was back to normal — except for one change. More sunlight.
• Peter Burke is editor of the Press-Banner. Contact him at

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