SANTA ROSA, Calif. — Jeff Okrepkie wants to make one thing perfectly clear.

Yes, his home burned to the ground after he fled a galloping wall of flames with his wife, their toddler, two dogs and the few items they managed to cram into their cars. But no, Okrepkie insisted, he is not a fire victim.

"I'm a survivor," he said. "It seems kind of ticky-tacky, but it helps with my mental state to think of myself that way ... I survived something that many people haven't."

Okrepkie and his wife lost their home and virtually everything they owned in the 2017 Tubbs fire, which turned a wide swath of the Wine Country — including Santa Rosa's middle-class Coffey Park neighborhood — into a heap of cinder and ash. At the time, it was the most destructive wildfire in California history. Soon, it may rank a mere third, with the still-blazing Los Angeles County inferno topping the list.

Okrepkie, 45, a commercial real estate agent, was displaced through ill fortune. He was elected years later to the Santa Rosa City Council by popular vote. He became an advocate for wildfire survivors, their champion and a clearinghouse of recovery tips by choice and his lived experience.

"How can you have all this information and not share it?" he said during a conversation this week a few blocks from City Hall and a short drive from the subdivision where he returned nearly 2½ years after fire chased him out. "It's almost seems selfish not to."

The October weekend that forever changed Okrepkie's life began in what now seems like blessed normalcy.

He and his wife, Stephanie, attended a wedding on Saturday, a welcome bit of alone time in adult company. Their son was nearly 2 years old and had lately "started scaling the walls," so Sunday was spent converting his crib into "a big-boy bed." After it was made up, Okrelie took a picture because they were all so excited.

The rest transpired in a flash.

Reports of a fire breaking out in Napa, 40 miles away. His wife nodding off in front of the TV news. Okrepkie falling asleep. His sister calling and waking him with word of another fire, in Calistoga, 16 miles distant and spreading on powerful winds.

Not much later, the flames leapt Highway 101 and its six lanes and bore down on Coffey Park. Stephanie Okrepkie drove away with her son, the family's black Lab mix and their Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. Jeff stayed behind, grabbing what he could, until a giant ember landed at his feet, spitting sparks. He took off.

He dispenses his wildfire wisdom in two parts, before and after disaster strikes.

Okrepkie suggested starting with a list of things to grab before you're forced to go. Figure out what you can get your hands on in five minutes or less and start there, beginning with "the things that are crucial to your life" — passports, birth certificates, marriage certificates, insurance policies, wills, trusts. Expand the list to items you can conceivably gather in 10, 15 and 30 minutes.

Focus, Okrepkie said, on things that are irreplaceable — "an urn with your parents remains, wedding rings" — or that have sentimental value. Clothes, shoes, underwear, pet food; those types of things can be purchased later.

Okrepkie particularly regrets leaving behind a photo of his grandparents, which his late grandmother carried with her everywhere. His wife lost the military fatigues her father wore when he was killed in Iraq, though the couple recovered his dog tags and "challenge coin."

If you lose your home, Okrepkie went on, don't wait to find temporary housing. "As soon as you get stabilized somewhere," he advised, "start calling apartments." And if it's unfurnished, make do with used or donated items. "When you get back into your house," Okrepke said, "that's when you start spending on the dining room table ... that looks nice in your home."

Beyond that, he counseled patience.

Take as much time as you need to catalog your losses for insurance purposes. If you can collect, say, up to $700,000 and devote 10 hours to compiling a thorough list, that works out to $70,000-an-hour. "That's a pretty well-paying job," Okrepkie said. "Think of it that way."

Also, he said, carefully document every interaction with your insurance company. You're likely to deal with a number of adjusters, some of whom will move on before your claim is settled. It's important to have written proof of what was said or promised, so you don't have to start each time with someone new.

When it comes to rebuilding — if that's your plan — don't hurry. Yes, Okrepkie said, there's an understandable urge to return home as quickly as possible. But he warned against making decisions in haste — in part because rules and regulations can change, affecting what and how you're able to rebuild. "If you're rushing, you could be doing something to fit into a box that all of a sudden just became bigger three weeks later."

He was glad he purchased his new home from a "mass builder" — a developer that goes through the permitting and legal process, then offers buyers a range of floor plans and options — rather than going it alone with an individual architect and builder.

"Most people have never built a house," Okrepkie said. "They just bought a house that already exists. And so they don't know what goes together" — carpets, countertops, cabinets, tiles and on. "Whereas these guys were like, 'Yep, we have this and this and this and this and this.' It's a lot easier to comprehend when you have limited choices."

Through it all, Okrepkie said, building and nurturing a sense of community was vital.

"I can sit here and tell you my entire fire story," he said over lunch at a cantina in downtown Santa Rosa, "and you'll empathize with it." But even the most caring and compassionate person can't relate "in the same way as someone who's going through what you're going though."

A friend started a gathering that jokingly came to be called "Whine Wednesdays," where survivors got together — at first on camping chairs set amid the ruins — to drink beer and wine "and just talk to each other," Okrepkie said. "Not bitching and complaining. Just having conversations."

His activism on behalf of the burned-out neighborhood led to a seat on the city Planning Commission, which in turn led to Okrepkie's election in 2022 to the Santa Rosa City Council.

As someone with experience on both sides of disaster — as a wildfire survivor as well as a government official dealing with its aftermath — he offered several suggestions for those in public office.

"Be careful with your messaging, because people can take things very personally," Okrepkie said. "Don't call people homeless ... We have a home. It burnt."

Be patient. Very patient. Even as months and years pass and the initial trauma has faded, you're facing people still grappling with perhaps the worst experience of their life. "Be careful about being too dismissive," Okrepie said, or coming across as unfeeling.

Don't be afraid to act boldly if your action can hasten the recovery, he continued. "With electeds there's always a fear of, 'Am I going to piss off too many people?' I don't think there's a more altruistic thing you can do than put your neck on the line for people that lost everything."

Not least, don't treat survivors as though they're seeking anything more than they had before.

"We're not asking to build mansions," Okrepkie said over his taco salad. "If you have a car you really like and someone hits it, you're not going to be like, 'I want a Maserati.' Just give me what I had ... I'm not trying to game the system. There always bad apples that will try to. But most are good people in a crap situation."

It's pretty straightforward, he suggested. Be caring. Be kind.

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