He remembers trying to light the propane heater in his house, located between Alberton and Fish Creek.
He remembers the first explosion. He remembers his dog running by him, on fire. He remembers the second explosion that blew him through the roof of his house.
It was April 18, 2004. The next thing Matthew Whitney remembers was when he woke up that summer, in Harborview Medical Center in Seattle.
He had been burned over 60 percent of his body. Half his fingers had been amputated.
He was in a coma for two months and went through more than 20 surgeries. In three of them, his heart stopped beating, the longest time for six minutes, before doctors were able to revive him.
When he finally got out of Harborview eight months later, the former outfitter was transferred to a nursing home in Missoula.
He has no children. His parents live in California, his only sister in Illinois.
During those eight months in Seattle, his former girlfriend had taken everything he owned that hadn't been destroyed in the fire, including his guns and fishing poles, and disappeared.
On this Thanksgiving, Matt Whitney will give thanks for many things, including the fact that he is still alive.
The rest of his list may not hold a candle to yours - it includes a 1974 Broadmore trailer on Missoula's west side, a year-old puppy to replace the dog that died in the fire and the Missoula Food Bank, which he counts on to be able to live outside the nursing home - and you might want to keep that in mind in the coming weeks when the food bank turns to you for help in its 20th annual food drive.
and admits it up front. She didn't normally drink and ride motorcycles, but it was a friend's 40th birthday, and she had consumed too much alcohol to realize the owner of the Harley-Davidson she was climbing on the back of was in no condition to drive.
The shock of a near head-on collision didn't technically sober her up, but it certainly caught her attention. Then the driver almost rear-ended a pickup truck.
When the cycle did make it past the pickup and another motorcycle did as well, her driver scooted over to let his buddy in the lane.
They caught gravel, went into a rooster tail and came out of it, only to be met by a reflector on the side of the road.
Twila Reichel was catapulted off the back of the cycle on that day back in 1999, in Bad Rock Canyon in the Flathead Valley.
“I flew better than I landed," says Reichel, a paraplegic.
A few years later, after she had moved to Missoula because of its medical and transportation services, Reichel looked across the hall of her nursing home.
She didn't like the nursing home, believing that some of the staff mistreated residents who lacked the mental or physical abilities to protest.
On this day, she had a new neighbor. He was sitting in a chair, covered in bandages and shaking his head in discouragement.
Reichel rolled her wheelchair across the hall and introduced herself to burn victim Matt Whitney.
“You look like you need a friend," she told him. “And I need a partner in crime."
together since, making a life where none would seem to exist.
They have pooled their limited resources - their $600-a-month Social Security checks and $70 in food stamps - to carve out a modicum of independence.
The 31-year-old trailer that cost them $3,000 needed a ramp for Reichel's wheelchair; the uncle of a caregiver donated the lumber.
They have a TV but no cable, two parking spaces but no car. The highlight of their day is the journey to the mailbox in the trailer park, their big splurge is to spend 70 cents apiece on an occasional Tuesday to ride the bus to and from Crazy Mike's Video to take advantage of the store's 99-cent movie rental special.
“We're scared this winter, with the power and gas bills," says Whitney, 48. “Twelve hundred bucks a month doesn't go far. Without the food bank and food stamps, I don't know how we'd make it."
Their only luxury purchase is dog food, to feed their two dogs, Razz and Charli.
“We watch them more than the TV," says Reichel, 44. “They're way more entertaining."
Charli, a 3-year-old cockapoo, and Razz, a year-old black Lab, keep them company in the trailer, frolic in the small yard and love that trip to the mailbox.
“They are the highlight of our life," Reichel says.
trip to the Missoula Food Bank is made possible by Food Share, a program financed by the Community Development Block Grant Program and a grant from the Plum Creek Foundation.
The program serves 30 of the food bank's thousands of clients, people like Reichel and Whitney who have, as outreach coordinator Aaron Brock calls it, “transportation issues."
A handicapped-accessible van from Community Medical Center picks people up, about five or six at a time, and brings them to the food bank once a month.
“As far as I know, we're the only place in the country doing this," says Cynthia Lotty, executive director at the Missoula Food Bank.
“It's a wonderful service," Reichel says, “especially because it brings us outside of normal store hours, so we don't have to fight the crowds."
Earlier this week, Reichel and Whitney did their shopping at the food bank, picking up the powdered milk, peanut butter, macaroni and cheese, apples and bananas - and, on this trip, a turkey for Thanksgiving Day - that will get them through a couple of weeks.
Their food stamps help them eat the rest of the month.
“When there's not a lot of money, you've got to have a system, you've got to have a routine," Reichel says. “The gas bills, the power bills, the trailer-space rental, we've got to have a phone so we can call our doctors, the Medicaid co-pays - it's four bucks every time you see the doctor, $25 for our meds - when you start adding up the bills, it doesn't take long to get to $1,200 a month."
Last year's food drive brought in about $75,000 worth of food, and $75,000 in cash donations, according to Brock.
Both are much appreciated. The money buys food to stock the shelves, but Brock admits “It's boring stuff, but we can buy the boring stuff much cheaper."
Donations of nonperishable food items bring a variety of foods to the store that its clients don't always see.
“The population we serve is by far the working poor," Brock says. “It's people who work 35 or more hours a week and are still not able to make it at the end of the month."
with “five and three-quarters fingers" and massive scars on the right side of his body. He can't grow hair where he was burned and sports half a beard. He can perspire out of only 40 percent of his body now, making both heat and extreme cold a problem.
“You're thinking your life is over," Reichel had told Whitney in the nursing home. “Let me show you it's not."
Whitney, only months out from the fire, was depressed and frustrated.
“I couldn't even open the creamer to put in my coffee when I met her," he says.
But Reichel was five years out from the motorcycle crash, and had already dealt with the frustration, despair, fear and depression that comes with such a life-altering incident.
Today they seem a very happy couple, very matter-of-fact about their injuries, very grateful for what they have rather than bitter about what they lack.
Whitney, the former outfitter who also drove a charter boat on Flathead Lake for a number of years, can open his creamer now, and zip up his coat.
He'd be able to drive; they just can't afford a car, much less license plates and insurance.
He thinks he might be able to set aside enough money to buy a rifle someday, and thinks he'll be able to shoot it.
“I'm left-handed, and I still have the trigger finger on that hand," he says, “so I really lucked out there."
He's already bought fishing poles but isn't sure how he'll tie the delicate knots in the lines.
She was a switchboard operator at the time of the motorcycle crash. One of Reichel's sons is in Missoula helping them fix things up in the trailer.
Her other son and daughter live in the Florida Keys, as do her five granddaughters and one grandson.
With therapy, Reichel hopes to walk again one day, albeit with the help of leg braces and canes. Both want to return to the work force. In the meantime, they want to volunteer over the holidays, either with the Salvation Army, which has helped them out, or the food bank.
They agreed to tell their story to help the food bank that helps them live on their own.
Twila Reichel and Matt Whitney see themselves as survivors, not victims. They are a team.
The Missoula Food Bank's 20th annual food drive will run Dec. 8-23. Fill as many bags as you'd like - you'll find one inserted in your Dec. 8 Missoulian - with nonperishable food and drop it off at any of the designated locations.
You can also help by donating money to the food bank, online at http://www.missoulafoodbank.org or by sending or delivering it to the Missoula Food Bank, 219 S. Third St. W., Missoula, MT 59801.
Missoula Food Bank, 219 S. Third St. W., Mondays and Tuesdays, 7:30 a.m.-7 p.m.; Wednesday-Friday, 7:30 a.m.-3 p.m.
The Missoulian, 500 S. Higgins Ave., Monday-Friday, 8 a.m.-5 p.m.
Missoula City Fire stations at 625 E. Pine St. (No. 1); 247 Mount Ave. (No. 2); 39th and Russell streets (No. 3); 3011 Latimer St. (No. 4). Hours, 8 a.m.-6 p.m. daily.
Missoula Rural Fire stations 2521 South Ave. W. (No. 1); 6550 Highway 10 W. (No. 2); 9480 Old Highway 10 E. in Bonner (No. 4); 12221 U.S. Highway 93 S. in Lolo (No. 5); 8455 Mullan Road (No. 6). Hours, 7 a.m.-7 p.m. daily.
Missoula Family YMCA, 3000 Russell St., 5 a.m.-10 p.m. Monday-Friday; 8 a.m.-8 p.m. Saturdays; noon-8 p.m. Sundays.
First Security Bank, all Missoula locations, normal bank hours.
Auto Glass Center, 1105 N. Russell St., 8 a.m.-5 p.m. Monday-Friday.
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