I only lived in Reno for four years, but in many ways it is where I “grew up.”

It was in The Biggest Little City that I confirmed my passion for journalism at my university newspaper. It was there in my classes where I discovered countless new philosophies and read some of what are now my favorite books. Reno is home to my first apartment. It’s where I learned to print type on a letter press. It’s the city where I legally drank my first beer (Blue Moon). It’s the place of memories at Wolf Pack football games, downtown Santa crawls, lazy days at the Truckee River or reading on the grassy Quad. It’s where I met my best friends.

So, naturally, my heart broke each time tragedy struck the town … seemingly over and over again in recent months.

Photo courtesy of Rgj.com

As if the Amtrak train crash that killed six in June, the Carson City IHOP shooting that left four dead in early September, the Air Races plane crash that killed nine and injured dozens about a week later weren’t enough for Reno to handle … the city caught on fire this week.

The Caughlin Fire started as a small brush fire from a down power line overnight, but rapidly spread to cover 2,000 acres as heavy winds ripped through the city.

This tragedy hits closest for me as several of my friends were evacuated from their homes, or were on the verge of evacuation. Luckily, when they returned none of them found charred ruins as about 30 other families did.

In the wake of tragedy, Reno shows it’s real strength. The community I felt at the university as a college student is throughout the city. Within hours of the fire, I watched online groups organize maps of areas that needed to evacuate, dozens of words of support and sorrow on social network sites and comment boards and calls for donations that were quickly met.

I am proud to call such a wonderful town a second home of sorts. I will always hold a special place in my heart for The Biggest Little City, and sincerely hope that tragedy will stop landing there.