The #TubbsFire, which burned thousands of homes and killed 22 people here mostly on Oct. 8-9, started three years ago tonight. A thread of a few of the things most etched in my mind from that time.

I stayed up all night that Sunday night because the wind down in the valley was so strong and I kept hearing the electrical wires at our rural home outside Petaluma slapping against the pole. It was really dry outside, and I didn't want to be asleep if a fire started nearby.

I won't retell the journalism parts of what went on that night, since it's already been told in this piece by my former colleague Paul Gullixson, but I knew by midnight I'd be skipping a planned vacation/series of day trips to cover wildfires. https://legacy.pressdemocrat.com/opinion/7526548-181/meanwhile-heres-what-went-on

Back then, my wife and I lived out in the country west of Petaluma. The ash that rained into our front yard included cupcake wrappers, burned wrapping paper and other bits of detritus from what looked like someone's outdoor birthday party they didn't clean up before bedtime.

Some friends of ours, a family of four who live near downtown Santa Rosa, came to stay with us for a couple nights so they and their kids could sleep soundly. Our dogs chased each other around the house and stole each other's toys while we had coffee and talked about the fires.

The Monday afternoon drive to work, when it was pretty much just me and Humvees on the road, heading north into Santa Rosa.

The first day the FEMA center opened on the first floor of our Santa Rosa building, I parked a ways away because fire survivors had priority in our parking lot. I rounded the corner and saw a line of humanity stretching around the block and just cried for them right there.

Crossing that line, day after day, for months, to access the side door we use to enter the newsroom was grounding and devastating each day in a way that never diminished, brief exchanges of "Excuse me" and "I am sorry."

Our reporters and photographers, who spent months out in the field with people who'd lost everything while I was mostly in an office, surely have more poignant tales, but the cupcake wrappers in the yard and the FEMA lines, in particular, will stay with me forever.