This was the view from Chapel Hills Mall when the Waldo Canyon Fire exploded down into Colorado Springs' foothills neighborhood of Mountain Shadows on Tuesday, June 26, 2012.

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On Tuesday, June 26, I said goodbye to my house and my neighbors and started my life as a Rockrimmon refugee.

My heart was pounding as I made one last sweep through our little house in Raven Hills. I wondered if my family would ever celebrate another birthday here. I paused at the window where we saw so much wildlife in the woods outside. Where we always put up our Christmas tree.

In the garage, I stopped at the wall where we traced our kids’ profile, measuring their heights to document their growth over the years. I took one last picture of the shark mural in my youngest son’s bedroom, grabbed my oldest boy’s high school letterman’s jacket, took a photo of my daughter at Disney World and began our escape.

I’d fought bumper-to-bumper traffic on my way home from downtown after a 4 p.m. briefing on the Waldo Canyon fire had been interrupted by a stunning mandatory evacuation order for the Mountain Shadows and Peregrine neighborhoods just west of my ‘hood.

My 12-year-old, Ben, was home with Nugget, our beloved dog. My wife, Cary, knew evacuation would mean chaos and began an urgent trek from her west-side store to reach them and get them to safety. I wasn’t far behind as I left downtown.

Neither of us could believe what we saw: a hurricane of fire had erupted in the foothills. Cary called me describing menacing flames along 30th Street and Centennial Boulevard. I figured she must be exaggerating. Then I got closer and faced the otherworldly orange glow of the swirling clouds and winced at the ash-filled, 101-degree winds.

I joined a line of cars backed up along Rockrimmon Boulevard and Delmonico Drive like I never could have imagined.

Intersections were blocked by panicked drivers trying to escape. Sirens wailed all around. I felt trapped in a horror movie.

A friend called and described houses ablaze in Mountain Shadows and urged me to join the exodus. And we did as soon as we grabbed mementos, photo albums, computers, even a cribbage board my father-in-law made.

Cary, Ben and Nugget left as I gathered all I could. Before leaving, I checked on my neighbor across the street. He refused to evacuate with his invalid wife. It was a sickening feeling to give up my pleas and get on with my own escape.

By then, embers were falling on my shake roof and I knew it was time to jump in my Jeep and flee. If only it would start. It had choked on the smoke on the drive from downtown and wouldn’t turn over.

My head exploding, I finally coaxed it to life and headed toward Woodmen Road. Except I couldn’t get near it. Panicked evacuees had turned it into a parking lot. I had to go west, toward the flames, to escape. But that route was blocked as well.

Finally, I went into four-wheel-drive, hopped a curb, blasted down a hill, across a soccer field and over a trail to reach Rockrimmon Boulevard where six lanes of traffic were headed east on both sides of the median.

And there I sat in traffic. It’s a memory I’ll never forget. I teared up as I scanned the surrounding cars. Everywhere were children, scared and crying, their parents looking deathly afraid and, in my rearview mirror, a view of the gates of hell.

Overwhelming relief rushed over me as I reached Interstate 25 and I started putting miles between me and the apocalyptic wildfire that was consuming the foothills.

I felt guilty about abandoning my home, my neighbor who refused to evacuate and all the others still sitting, petrified, in traffic.

I was one of the lucky ones. My family was safe and we had generous friends who took us in, fed and comforted us. By Wednesday morning, it seemed our neighborhood had survived. But it’s small comfort because so many neighbors have lost so much. And this catastrophe isn’t over.

To all the victims, I can only say I’m so sorry.

Homes in Mountain Shadows burn as the Waldo Canyon fire explodes down the foothills of Colorado Springs. By Jerilee Bennett, The Gazette

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WALDO CANYON FIRE: Hell in the rearview mirror is a post from: Side Streets

The many faces of Lon Chaney, silent movie star and Colorado Springs native

How do we inspire our children to dream, to work hard to overcome adversity and achieve greatness?

One way is to hold up as inspiration those who grew up down the street and went on to win acclaim. We erect statues and put their names on parks, boulevards and buildings.

It’s time Colorado Springs so honors Lon Chaney, one of the greatest stars of the silent movie era and a pioneer in the use of makeup.

Sure, the tiny theater in the City Auditorium was named for Chaney in 1986. But he deserves much more.

Lon Chaney is a hero to Michael Blake, an actor and award-winning makeup artist, who has written several biographies of Chaney.

A persuasive case is made by Michael Blake, a Hollywood actor, makeup artist and author of several biographies on Chaney.

Chaney’s parents, Frank and Emma, were deaf and mute and quite poor.

Blake’s research identified nine rental houses where the family lived before Chaney left to pursue acting.

Frank Chaney was known as “Dummy the Barber,” Blake said. It was an affectionate nickname, he said, given him by his millionaire clients who included Springs founder Gen. William Jackson Palmer and gold miner/philanthropist Winfield Scott Stratton.

Emma was a teacher at the School for the Deaf and the Blind, which her father Jonathan Kennedy founded.

She suffered from inflammatory rheumatism, Blake said, forcing Chaney to drop out of school in fourth grade to care for her.

“She was basically a shut-in,” Blake said. “She couldn’t hear or speak. Lon was her eyes to the outside world.”

The Colorado Springs Opera House as it appeared in 1885. Courtesy the Pikes Peak Library District Special Collections.

While growing up, Chaney worked many jobs, including as a carpet-layer, wallpaper hanger, tour guide on Pikes Peak and prop boy at the Colorado Springs Opera House, where his brother was the manager.

He made his acting debut there in 1902 and soon joined a touring company. He eventually settled in California and went on to star in 80 silent films. But he returned many times to visit family and friends.

“This guy was a big movie star,” Blake said. “He deserves a statue, a park, a big theater, a film festival.”

I agree. We need to give our kids inspirational role models. We need to show them they can achieve great things in whatever career they choose, whether it’s public service, science, education, sports or the arts.

Lon Chaney shows them they can be the poor son of “Dummy the Barber,” a dropout caretaker for their invalid mother, and still become a huge star.

And they can be from Colorado Springs!

Heck, we all ought to be celebrating Chaney. He’s at least as worthy as Hank the Cowboy, for crying out loud!

I vote for a life-size bronze outside the Chaney Performing Arts Center.

Maybe folks who agree should bombard the City Asset Naming Board.

Can’t afford the outrageous $50 nominating fee? Launch a social media campaign. What do you say, Mayor Bach? City Council?

#LetsHonorLon.

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Here’s some links to other good stories about Chaney in Colorado Springs:

On Thursday, June 21, 2012, I wrote about Lon Chaney and the need to recognize him.

In 1999, The Gazette wrote about Michael Blake and his efforts to honor Chaney. Click here to read it.

Follow this link to read another 1999 story that describes him as a generous family man.

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Three houses where Lon Chaney lived as a child still exist. They are 509 W. Bijou St., 738 N. Spruce St. and 802 N. Walnut St. Here is a map:

Three houses where Lon Chaney lived during his childhood in Colorado Springs.

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LON CHANEY’S INSPIRING LIFE STORY DESERVES RECOGNITION is a post from: Side Streets

Mama Goose and her goslings strutted around Green Mountain Falls before she became tangled in fishing line. Photo by Kenny Flanagan.Ann Pinell, the Goose Lady of Green Mountain Falls, holds a tangle of fishing line she took from the town lake.Ann Pinell, the Goose Lady of Green Mountain Falls, holds a tangle of fishing line she took from the town lake.

Ann Pinell, the Goose Lady of Green Mountain Falls, holds a tangle of fishing line she took from the town lake.

The Goose Lady of Green Mountain Fallsis asking for everyone’s help.

Especially folks who visit the little mountainside village up Ute Pass. And, in particular, those who fish in its scenic lake.

“If anybody sees our Mama Goose, her two legs are bound by fishing line and she can barely walk,” said 75-year-old Ann Pinell.

“If they call me, I’ll go right down. She’ll come to me. We need to get the line off and get her back with her babies.”

Ann is known around town as the Goose Lady because she takes such good care of the geese and ducks that make their home on the little lake, with its picturesque island gazebo.

She carries a bag of corn to feed the geese and ducks. And she puts up signs when the geese have goslings.

She wants to protect them from traffic and passersby.

This spring has been a roller-coaster for Ann.

First, a nest of eggs was smashed just before the goslings could hatch.

“It was so sad,” Ann said, shaking her head.

A short time later, Ann was tickled when a second nest of eggs produced five baby geese.

Fishing line can be seen wrapped around the goose's legs. Photo by Kenny Flanagan.

“Mama Goose sat on those eggs for two months,” she said. “She laid them in a flowerpot on the roof of a pub across from the lake.”

After they hatched, the mother goose became a popular sight, leading her five goslings waddling around town.

“They’d go back and forth across the road,” Ann said. “She was so proud of those babies.”

Then, a couple of weeks ago, Ann noticed the mother goose was hobbling. She had fishing line wrapped around both legs.

“People leave fishing line in the water,” Ann said, holding a twisted clump of line and hooks she pulled from the lake Wednesday.

“Geese dive and come up in a tangle of line,” she said. “The danger is that fishing line pulls tighter and tighter and cuts into the bone.”

Last summer a goose lost a leg to a fishing line tangle.

Ann said 20 or so geese have become tangled in line left in the lake in recent years by anglers who simply cut off snagged lines rather than pulling them out.

Photo by Kenny Flanagan

So when the mother goose showed up tangled in fishing line, Ann and some others tried to catch her and cut it off.

But the goose became scared and flew off, perhaps to Crystal Reservoir along the Pikes Peak Highway, just a few miles up the mountainside.

“She can only hobble and barely swim,” Ann said. “But she can still fly.”

That was about 10 days ago and now time is running out. Geese shed feathers each summer, leaving them unable to fly for weeks. If she molts, she could be stranded and never reunited with her goslings.

“Those five babies don’t have their mother’s wings to sleep under,” Ann said. “We just have to find her.”

Click here to view the embedded video.

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HELP THE GOOSE LADY OF GREEN MOUNTAIN FALLS is a post from: Side Streets

Lizzy Butts, 10, of Green Mountain FallsManitou Springs artist Steve Wood and his Concrete Couch nonprofit group created SCAMP, a summer camp program that lets volunteers of all ages create public art in downtown Colorado Springs.Manitou Springs artist Steve Wood and his Concrete Couch nonprofit group created SCAMP, a summer camp program that lets volunteers of all ages create public art in downtown Colorado Springs.

Manitou Springs artist Steve Wood and his Concrete Couch nonprofit group created SCAMP, a summer camp program that lets volunteers of all ages create public art in downtown Colorado Springs.

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Lizzy Butts, a small mason’s trowel in hand, eased a ceramic tile into a dab of concrete.

She was oblivious to cars zooming past on East Pikes Peak Avenue downtown or the folks coming and going from the CenturyLink office building.

Lizzy, 10, was simplly enjoying a week at SCAMP — the Concrete Couch version of summer camp. Her group was transforming a large sidewalk vent into a piece of art.

And she was loving it.

“I always have a lot of fun doing this,” Lizzy told me as the mosaic “Tapestry Road” took shape atop the vent.

This wasn’t her first time working on a project with Concrete Couch, a Manitou Springs nonprofit founded by artist Steve Wood dedicated to creating a better community by working with kids and others to create public art.

SCAMP is a perfect example of what Wood and Concrete Couch are about.

SCAMP stands for Summer Community Art and Mural Project. Over the next three months SCAMPers like Lizzy will create a series of public art projects in the downtown area — benches, murals and a circus-style performance.

Already, the group built a concrete, ceramic and stone bench on Nevada Avenue in front of City Rock Climbing Gym. The CenturyLink bench is its second project. Six more are planned through August.

The Concrete Couch SCAMP program is transforming a sidewalk vent into a mosaic artwork.

Best of all, it’s free to participate and all are welcome. The crew Thursday included kids like Lizzy, teens and adults.

The city asked Wood to host SCAMP and is helping him secure permits and providing free parking at project sites. But it is giving no financial support.

The Pikes Peak Habitat for Humanity’s ReStore is contributing ceramic materials and area concrete companies are giving reduced-price materials.

Still, Wood is seeking sponsorships, such as contributions he received from City Rock and CenturyLink, to cover the costs of each project, which total about $2,000 apiece.

“But we’re going ahead with this whether we get the sponsors or not,” Wood said. “That’s just how we work.”

Concrete Couch teachers and volunteers with the SCAMP program worked on a mosaic art bench Thursday, June 7, 2012, outside the CenturyLink building on East Pikes Peak Avenue.

All are welcome and sign-up is easy. Go to his website: www.ConcreteCouch.org and look under the “What’s New” tab. Or call program coordinate Lisbet Rattenborg at 347-1142.

The website also has details of coming projects including one starting June 18 in the Middle Shooks Run Neighborhood where a mural will be built alongside the creek.

“Kids like it because you get to work with tools,” said Jennifer Hanson, a professional potter who also teaches at Concrete Couch. “They get to use tile cutters and nippers, tile saws, do mortar and grouting. We even fire up the kiln sometimes and do glazing.”

Lizzy nodded agreement.

“I’ve been cutting tile,” she said. “But I’m not so good with the nippers.”

Concrete Couch volunteers in its SCAMP program built this rock and concrete bench, with a planter, on Nevada Avenue outside City Rock Climbing Gym.

The Concrete Couch website has information on the SCAMP program.

Click here to read a Side Streets column I wrote April 27, 2011, about Wood and Concrete Couch.

To read the associated blog entry, follow this link.

Click this link to see another cool Concrete Couch project.

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SUMMER CAMPERS CONVERGE DOWNTOWN, LEAVE ART IN THEIR WAKE is a post from: Side Streets

The Sioux Nation Shopping Center is the only grocery store on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, an area the size of Connecticut.

I was shocked last week to learn there are neighborhoods that routinely rely on outhouses because their homes have no running water and lack electricity.

If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t have believed it.

I was not in Colorado Springs, but that doesn’t matter. To me it’s outrageous there are hundreds, perhaps thousands of American families who still rely on outhouses.

I reacted so strongly because I see outhouses as an ugly symbol of poverty. And poverty isn’t a condition routinely associated with the U.S. — the richest broke nation on the planet.

But that’s what I found when I drove onto the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota.

I came face-to-face with Third World poverty.

Volunteers for RE-MEMBER install an outhouse the group built at a home in 2010 on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, S.D.

My family went to Pine Ridge to volunteer for RE-MEMBER, a nonprofit group devoted to providing housing and helping the elderly and disabled on the reservation, which is the size of Connecticut and home to about 25,000 Oglala Sioux known collectively as Lakota Indians.

The nonprofit group builds bunk beds, insulates and skirts mobile homes, installs roofs, builds wheelchair ramps and, yes, builds outhouses for the reservation’s poor, which describes just about everyone.

Colorado Springs resident Cary Vogrin helped dig a pit for an outhouse being in stalled in May 2012 by the RE-MEMBER nonprofit group on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, S.D.

In 15 years, it has installed 700 outhouses on Pine Ridge. Last week was no exception. My wife, Cary, was on a crew that installed one outhouse for a blind Vietnam veteran and his wife, who dug their own pit. Then the crew went to another trailer, dug a pit and installed a second outhouse.

Actually, outhouses rank among the less-serious problems on Pine Ridge, one of the poorest counties in the U.S.

The reservation is battling severe unemployment — 80 percent and higher — a plague of alcohol and drug addition among its residents and an alarming suicide rate even among its middle-school children.

I arrived ready to help. I left disillusioned by the magnitude of the problems.

Colorado Springs resident Ben Vogrin helps assemble bunk beds in May 2012 in a home on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota.

For example, I learned one-third of the dozen bunk beds we built last weekly likely will be burned to heat trailers next winter.

It felt like we were putting Band-Aids on a hemorrhaging amputation.

I don’t pretend to know how to solve the problems at Pine Ridge. I believe it is too remote and unstable to attract industry or businesses of enough size to help.

But I have a suggestion.

Every Lakota should pack up, put all the broken treaties behind them, and leave Pine Ridge.

Leave the Wounded Knee Massacre site. Forget reclaiming the Black Hills. Focus on overcoming all the poverty and addictions.

Just as I left my decaying, crime-ridden hometown of Kansas City, Kan., got a college education and pursued a life elsewhere, the Lakota need to leave Pine Ridge.

Education and a fresh beginning, I believe, are the Lakotas’ best hope.

The mass grave where U.S. Cavalry soldiers heaped the frozen corpses of Lakota men, women and children, many of the corpses mutilated, after the Wounded Knee Massacre in 1890 on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, S.D.

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PINE RIDGE RESERVATION IS BROKEN AND I DOUBT IT CAN BE FIXED is a post from: Side Streets