Haslett-Marroquin Family Comes Full Circle

The clock hand only had to go around one more time until it struck midnight and Thanksgiving was here. It was a much-needed day off for me—one planned to be full of thanks and merriment. One, as usual, to be full of reflection.

Against my better judgment, I checked Twitter one last time before heading to bed. That's when I saw someone tweet a picture of an apparent house fire west of Highway 3 and north of Northfield proper.

Sleep and Thanksgiving would have to wait. I had work to do.

When I arrived to the home of Reginaldo and Amy Haslett-Marroquin just after 11 p.m., it was clear that the house was going to be a complete loss. In what seemed like seconds, . 

I documented the destruction with photos and video, talked to Chief Gerry Franek and neighbors, and updated the story from my car before returning home to put the . I knew the story wouldn't end there. I knew how connected Regi and Amy were to the community both through their work at the and , but also with Finca Marisol, their small poultry farm they operated on their land.

Not to my surprise, later that morning—less than 12 hours after the fire had started—a Facebook group was started by friends of the Haslett-Marroquin's three children to help collect clothes, food and provide shelter for the family. Fundraisers, a benefit concert and messages of support came in the days, weeks and months that followed. I spent much of Thanksgiving tracking the story and providing updates when they were available. The day after Thanksgiving, the family's two dogs—believed to have perished in the fire—were in the basement of the home. 

Best of all, the family decided to rebuild on the same plot of land, not allowing the tragedy to push them from their 1.94-acre home.

The second time I visited the Haslett-Marroquin home was a very different experience.

Instead of driving anxiously in the dead of night in search of a glow in the distance, I took my time enjoying the August afternoon ride on Friday to the rural Northfield home.

I knew the way this time.

When the gravel road brought me across the railroad tracks, firetrucks, squad cars and ambulances didn't line the shoulder and litter the yard like they did that chilly November night. This day, an array of cars sat idly and quietly. Once to the yard, firefighters weren't scurrying about trying to tame the wild blaze that, within minutes, destroyed a home that stood since 1977. Instead, I saw friends, neighbors and family members—some from as far as Guatemala—surrounding the family of five and their new home, spreading love and warmth.

As Regi introduced me to people, he shared that I was there that night capturing images of the fire destroying his home. It's an odd, though accurate, way to be introduced to new folks.

I'll be honest, I—like most journalists—don't necessarily stay in touch with families throughout the rebuilding process. But this story and community are different.

The fall of 2010 offered a similar experience. I had just left the and had a few weeks before starting with Patch when the "" struck. Because I was between jobs, I had the opportunity to be a community member, not a community journalist. There's always been a gray area between community member and being merely a byline when covering cities this size, but I feel incredibly fortunate to be doing what I'm doing and how I'm doing it with Patch.

I wasn't sure how I planned to "cover" Friday's community blessing. I had spoken to Regi several times and he reassured me it was OK to arrive to the gathering wearing my journalist hat. I opted for a toned down version—some photos, no video—to respect what the day meant to his family. I mingled with a few people I knew and a few more who I didn't know, including Regi's father, with whom I managed to speak some broken Spanish.

But it's gatherings like the one on Friday that serve as a reminder that we should all feel incredibly fortunate to be part of the community that is Northfield. Do other communities rally around fallen neighbors? Sure. Do they all? Of course not. But we have that here. Whether it's a family recovering from losing their home to a fire, a high school student raising money for cancer awareness or strangers offering to take a shift filling sandbags, we have it here.

Social media played a great role throughout this eight-month journey for the Haslett-Marroquins. I was alerted to the fire because a passerby tweeted a photo of it. Hours after the fire, friends turned to Facebook to organize efforts to help. Northfield Patch and other media outlets used their reach to bring light to the story. In the months that followed, Regi turned to Facebook to share his thoughts—some inspiring, some sad, all powerful.

For the last month or so, I watched an event page on Facebook for Friday's gathering grow with the number of people planning to attend. That page was aptly named "Haslett-Marroquin's Home Thanksgiving Gathering."

Thanks indeed.