Mountain View Estates: Finding a Way Home

Ask any resident of Mountain View Estates what they loved about their community and they recall the shared events: Christmas dinners, chili feeds, taco nights, holiday barbecues, birthday parties all the time. Every Saturday, the neighborhood clubhouse was abuzz with residents drinking coffee and swapping stories. Each fall, folks would walk down to the banks of Bear Creek, and watch a wriggling mass of steelhead making their way up the waterway to spawn. Between the views of the mountains and the walking path of the adjacent Bear Creek Greenway, residents reveled in the beauty of their neighborhood and the easy access to nature.

Completed in 1991, Mountain View Estates (MVE) is a family-owned, 55+ residential manufactured housing (MH) park in Talent, Oregon. On the morning of September 8, 2020, there were 233 residents living in 165 manufactured homes—all double- or triple-wides. It had been a dry summer, and the winds were strong that day. A red flag warning had been issued, and most of the state was on edge. But the people living at MVE took comfort and safety in the fact that they were surrounded by friends, many of whom they thought of like family.

Shortly after 11am that morning, the first dispatch calls began for a fire reported five miles away in Ashland, the next town over. By that evening, everything had changed. All that remained of the reassuring assumptions—about the community, about the nearby greenway, about the place they called home—lay intermingled with the ashes of their houses and everything they contained, along with the beloved clubhouse. It was not only at MVE: One could witness the same devastating scene in nearly every MH park for five miles in either direction along the Bear Creek Greenway .

Over the decades, Jackson County has become a top retirement destination for seniors of all income levels, and senior-specific MH parks made up 7 out of the 21 residential parks that were impacted by the fire that day.

Take a moment to let that sink in. To understand the impact on seniors in the Almeda Fire, we can say this another way: A third of the MH parks that burned—there were 21 of them—were communities that catered specifically to 55+ residents. Put in terms of individual homes, the impact to senior residents is even more striking: Of the 1700+ manufactured houses that burned that day, at least 922 were located in 55+ communities.

The goal of the Loss & Recovery Project is to illuminate the untold stories of the Almeda Fire through data-driven storytelling, operating under a dual premise: Recovery is never truly over, and there is always more to be learned in the process. This StoryMap uses a variety of media, data, and graphs to present relevant information. At its heart, however, this is the story of a group of people, the place they lived, and the strange new shape of the community to which they are trying to return. What does it look like when a senior community is torn apart by wildfire and displaced over long distances for an extended period of time? How do they find their way home? Is this still—two years later—a possibility? To answer these questions, we interviewed residents and used community data gathered by Firebrand Resiliency Collective's digital storytelling team, the Almeda Fire Zone Captains, and the Jackson County Community Long Term Recovery Group (JCC LTRG).  ^{For a list of the information cited and how it was gathered,  click here.}   

Of course, any story of a community devastated by disaster must begin with the survivors. We asked the residents to tell us, in their own words, what they loved about Mountain View Estates.

Two years after the Almeda Fire, some are unsure whether these 55+ communities will ever come back to what they were before. Many former residents are scattered to the winds (this is a common narrative in manufactured parks lost to disaster). There is a particular irony of manufactured housing in America: While MH owners own their physical house, in almost all cases the residents do not own the land it sits on. There is no "right of return" for MH residents in this country. One local official, in describing the elderly population affected by the fire, was quoted as saying that 55+ residents “left and [are] not likely to return."

Yet, despite the fact that almost 9 out of 10 homes in MVE burned, more residents than expected have indicated a desire to come back to the community they once called home. Only half of those who wanted to return have been successful.

While the familiar hurdles to disaster recovery are never easily overcome, seniors—due to a series of unique disadvantages—often find these hurdles unassailable. Echo Fields, a retired Sociology professor at Southern Oregon University and an advocate for elderly survivors of the Almeda Fire, conducted a number of post-fire needs assessments among senior populations and analyzed the data gathered from the 400+ assessments conducted to see what patterns were revealed. She writes of the experience:

Once the barriers to disaster recovery for seniors are understood, the fact that "only half of the MVE survivors desiring to return have been able to do so" begins to make sense. Based on the rebuild data in the  Almeda Fire Loss & Recovery Dashboard , we know that the percentage of residents returning to other neighborhoods affected by the fire is higher. Why are senior survivors—especially those living in MH parks—unable to get back home in the same way? Again, the real story cannot be recounted with numbers:

To understand the low rate of return at MVE and other 55+ MH parks, we used the data and narrative summaries from more than 400 needs assessment surveys. These surveys were collected by community organizations between late 2021 and early 2022 on behalf of the Jackson County Community Long Term Recovery Group (JCC LTRG). These summaries of findings are indicated throughout this section in bold italics. While the barriers are myriad and complex, we want to draw attention to four specific 55+ barriers in this StoryMap: Income — Disability — Access to Technology — and Loss of Social Capital.

Most of the 145 residents 55 and older who were interviewed for the JCC LTRG were on a fixed income, they were part of the nearly 90% of the fire-affected population who reported receiving social insurance and/or public assistance benefits before the fire. These fixed incomes include Social Security, disability benefits, veteran benefits, and pensions. While some of the 55+ residents were still in the workforce, many more had left their careers years or even decades before, when income vs. cost of living gaps were less striking. According to Fields, “'Pride of Ownership' of a home is a symbol of accomplishment for older adults, something they had worked toward over many years, an emblem of their achievement." When asked about their plan to recover, some elderly residents said they would return to work in order to afford a new home, despite their advanced age and a radically changed job market.

Yet these seniors—along with every other survivor living in a manufactured housing park when the fire hit—faced a harsh reality: The median age of a manufactured home lost in the Almeda fire was 43 years, and new manufactured homes were often double or triple the cost of what was lost.

Survivors all over the Rogue Valley, regardless of age or background, have found that returning is more easily imagined than achieved. The challenges of building a home or finding a new MH home available for purchase, primarily due to overwhelming demand in a market hit by price hikes and supply chain issues, are immense. Survivors describe being quoted one price [for a MH unit], but final delivered cost was sometimes tens of thousands dollars more, due to supply chain issues, materials costs increases, and labor shortages. [The] cost of siting, placement, and paying for infrastructure upgrades also increased—survivors describe costs ranging from approximately $58,000-$80,000 to site a new manufactured home.

Price increases were often secondary to another issue, however: Finding a manufactured home dealer with available stock in the year after the fire was almost unheard of. 280 days passed after the Almeda Fire before the first new manufactured home landed at Mountain View Estates. Most dealers within a thousand miles had simply run out of houses, and when asked—if they were being honest—told buyers that new units were backordered for months or more. It's no wonder MVE residents are coming back slower—in many ways, it's a miracle they have been able to come back at all.

It is a curious condition of manufactured housing in the US that while MH owners have title to the structure, they do not actually own the dirt these homes sit on. Like cars, manufactured homes lose value as soon as they leave the lot; they do not hold their value the way traditional, "stick-built" homes do. This was true for every MH owner who lost their home in the Almeda Fire, regardless of race or ethnicity.

Rightful importance has been placed on the severe impact to the valley's Latino/a/x population, and the socio-economic inequalities that contributed to it. Yet the plight of the 55+ survivors of the Almeda Fire is less publicized. Elderly survivors were more likely to be white—the MVE community was almost uniformly so, and did not reflect the much more diverse profile of the younger (and larger) impacted populations. Yet, a careful analysis of the LTRG needs assessment numbers shows that while older people were MORE LIKELY to own their own home and have private insurance, they were ALSO MORE LIKELY to be categorized as low-income residents than the general fire-affected population. So while white, older residents were often considered more well-resourced for recovery, the difference between “owning” and “earning” is striking, making the economic truth on the ground is vastly more complex.

Even though Americans are living longer, physical decline still follows closely on the heels of the aging process. Losing a home to fire—and all of the possessions in it—is deeply traumatic. Building a new home is something few Americans even consider. When facing both experiences simultaneously in the wake of a disaster, the difference between success and insurmountable struggle often comes down to a matter of physical vitality.

Often senior survivors are dealing with cognitive or physical decline, and sometimes they are not the only one in their household. As one survivor shared during their needs assessment interview, “[My wife] isn't dead, but mentally she isn't the same and she is really, really struggling.” This can cause a cascade effect: Older survivors describe caregiving for other family members; then post-fire, becoming less able to provide that care, as well as needing care for themselves.

Another survivor told an interviewer, “The fire happening at the same time as me breaking my leg in five places made me just unable to keep up on my bills. . . .  The fire has just trashed my life. I had a dream, and then it was gone. Everything I had for 65 years was gone. I have had anxiety attacks and had to go to the ER last month.”

When the fire swept through Mountain View Estates, it took with it more than the double-wide dreams of the retired residents; it also took away the daily schedules and neighborhood social networks residents relied on. After a wildfire—or any natural disaster that touches communities—a traumatized population is suddenly asked to navigate a series of endless mundane tasks with little help: document replacement, applications for FEMA assistance, countless surveys that assess need and loss, not to mention the joys of filing multiple insurance claims. All this was hard enough, before Covid compounded our society's reliance on technology to get basic tasks done.

It wasn't only the paperwork that moved online—the pandemic changed the way survivors have been able to access information and resources over the last two years. In many ways, access to vital (and constantly changing) information and assistance has required a teleconferencing account. Without a computer—or the ability to use one even if they had access—older survivors were hampered in their recovery. Older, less technologically equipped, Spanish speaking, or less literate survivors described being dependent on friends/family to connect to online resources, creating some anxiety about being misled or misinformed. Due to COVID restrictions, gathering in-person to share information over coffee was discouraged, recovery agencies were unable to put boots on the ground, and local governments eschewed the town hall for Zoom rooms that often required registration. Seniors understood the need for caution: the virus to which these "online only" options were a reaction was disproportionately targeting their older, fragile immune systems. But take away the access to friends and neighbors, take away the ability to navigate the online world, and seniors suddenly found themselves in the dark.

For seniors, a lack of access to technology can leave them feeling lost in unresponsive bureaucratic mazes, feeling defeated, and giving up.

Survivors with more formal education might be expected to be more familiar with technology and interacting with bureaucratic systems, which can be an important factor contributing to individual and community recovery and resilience. While we do not have the data on survivors' levels of education, it is fair to say that the speed of technology over the last 30 years has left many seniors behind. The post-disaster, pandemic environment has made this inequity all the more apparent.

"Social capital", as Echo Fields described in conversation, "is the value of the social networks providing mutual 'in-kind' support." It is hard to overestimate the importance of real-world social networks in a seniors' ability to thrive. Recognizing this, 55+ residential communities have become a modern American staple. Increased social capital, and all that comes with it—a sense of security, real-world connection, shared lived experience and cultural memory—is the foundation upon which these communities are built.

When that foundation is fractured by disaster, the rest of the structure—the individual residents and households—can crumble. Older survivors describe losing connection to friends and family who shared decades of memory, loss of a sense of purpose, and the loss of being valued for what they had contributed to community life.

For seniors, visual cues can be the key to unlocking memory, a key support for social capital that is often tangible. Unsurprisingly, survivors describe the loss of photographs as particularly painful. Photographs are proof that they existed, had an experience, vacationed in a special destination, had a night out with friends. Survivors describe feeling that without those photos, they would lose their memories of family, friends, of deceased parents or children, that they would forget events and experiences of their own lives, destabilizing their sense of identity.

This specific loss was permanent for seniors less skilled in digitizing old photos, and a major contributor to feelings of grief and loss. The loss of these photographs, along with objects—personal journals and diaries, letters from deceased family members, the loss of a family silverware, medals, commemorative flags, letters written home by veterans from deployment—left seniors feeling no longer connected to personal and family history, creating a sense of emptiness, being adrift. Survivors experienced the loss of cremains as compounding the initial grief. The grief and trauma experienced through all that loss has had a direct effect on mental health for seniors, as witnessed in the data of the JCC LTRG Needs Assessment.

There is a simpler way to talk about "Social Capital"—it is what drives MVE residents' and other survivors' strong desires to return to their original communities, even if they are no longer intact. It is the irreplaceable sense of community.

Two years on, resources for the MH community exist that can help the population recover. Though seniors experience greater difficulties in accessing these resources, some are experiencing success.

The pie chart below represents a case study of a returned MVE resident who shared the full replacement cost of their manufactured home, and the resources they used to get back home. The specific rebuild cost described—$198,442—is not meant to be representative of the average home replacement cost, but it is representative of the lower end of home replacement costs at MVE. We share this in the hope that it can illuminate how these financial incentives can be used to make MH park residents whole again.

In service to these survivors, we are detailing the highest value MH recovery resources below. They may be key pieces to the puzzle that will allow greater numbers of MH residents to find their way home. If you have a senior survivor in your network, consider sharing these as a  printable PDF , or visit  www.jccltrg/resources  for a full Survivor-Vetted Resource List. Directly assisting a survivor, especially seniors, in navigating these resources can make the deepest impact. If you need help understanding these resources, please call the  ACCESS Center for Community Resilience  at (541) 414-0318 or visit  www.zonecaptains.org. 

 Wildfire Recovery and Resilience Account  (WRRA) This flexible grant program, through Oregon Housing and Community Services (OHCS), may provide the replacement cost of an entire MH or stick-built home or RV purchase for income-eligible applicants who have lost their home to wildfire and have been unable to find safe, permanent housing. It can also be used to cover remaining costs for site preparation, transportation, permitting, installation, appliances and furniture, and repairs. Any two-person household making less than $48,900 up to $73,350 may be eligible, but single residents and families can also apply.

 Forgivable Manufactured Home Replacement Loan  This OHCS program provides gap funding of up to $50,000 to replace a single-wide home, or up to $75,000 to replace a double-wide for a household making less than $62,818/year. During the 10-year term of the loan, 1/120 ^th  of the loan amount is forgiven each month at 0% interest. If the manufactured home sells before 10 years, the new owner assumes 0% monthly payments for the remainder of the loan.

 Fire Hardening Grant Program  Administered by Oregon counties, this grant program provides funds to people affected by the 2020 wildfires to make fire-hardening improvements on their home or business damaged or destroyed by wildfire. "Fire hardening" describes steps that can be taken to make a home or business more resistant to damage from wildfire. Examples include materials for siding and roofing that resist ignition during a wildfire, improved windows, or attic ventilation devices that reduce ember intrusion. These grants are also retroactive for improvements already made during the rebuild. Since most new manufactured homes include eligible upgrades, this grant can reduce the overall cost of the unit.

 Energy Efficient Wildfire Rebuilding Incentive Program  This Department of Energy program provides funding to incentivize e​nergy-efficient rebuilding efforts for structures lost to Labor Day 2020 fires. Homeowners can receive grants for new structures that meet or exceed current building code in regards to energy efficiency. This program is also able to reimburse those who’ve already purchased and moved in, with a goal to make buildings more comfortable and support long-term affordability through lower energy bills.

 Energy Trust of Oregon  Energy Trust offers up to $16,000 in cash incentives to help displaced manufactured homeowners and builders construct new energy-efficient homes that save on utility costs. Incentives are performance-based, meaning the more efficient the home, the higher the incentive. This grant is also able to reimburse costs for those who’ve already purchased and moved in.

Below is a summary of the community-generated data gathered for MVE. This dashboard is interactive, and we invite you to explore the data in one place to get a deeper understanding. You can use the toggle arrows to navigate through the windows. For any questions about this StoryMap or Firebrand Resiliency Collective's Loss & Recovery Project, please contact us!

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Community Liaisons do more than advocate for their communities. As boots on the ground agents of recovery, the Almeda Fire Zone Captains keep residents up to date on available resources while informing decision-makers of systemic issues and barriers survivors are experiencing.