I stepped carefully over the puddle, but my left foot still glomped into soft, muddy ground. The firefighters had apparently soaked that end of the house well to quell the flames that had built up inside the chimney, where the firebox meets the flue. The flames licked at the attic rafters, and charred through the roof with heated, unabashed fury.
Fortunately, the family inside escaped without injury. They were sitting in their living room, enjoying the blazing fire inside the fireplace, when they smelled something that didn’t seem right.
Their geographical location also proved a blessing, as the fire house is just down the street. Response time was blissfully short, but not before extensive damage – estimated at $10,000 – was done. The city cut their utilities for safety purposes, and the family had to stay elsewhere for the night.
I had a photo to take for an unrelated story in the area, and decided to do a “drive-by” and maybe snap a shot of the exterior of the damaged home on my way back to the office. I parked my truck across the street, carefully navigated the terra soggy, and flipped on my camera. Before I could take a photo, I was greeted by the home’s owner, who shook hands with me and invited me inside.
It is/was a great house; originally built in 1912, the family had been enlarging and improving it since 1979. However, because the man had been without work for many months, they had decided to not renew their home insurance. Hardwood floors graced the first floor, which had been opened to one large room from the front to the back kitchen. Broken chunks of drywall littered the floor, and items that could be salvaged were stacked downstairs in gomer piles.
There was a smokey pall about the house. The guy told me the soot from the fire turned the cobwebs along their ceiling black. His wife and daughter returned home as we went into the house. Mrs. Homeowner lugged a large bottle of laundry detergent.
“It’s what the lady from the Red Cross lady told us to get,” he explained. “To get that smoke-smell outta here. It does smell fresh, right?” His wife, alternately sucking on a lit cigarette, nodded her head.
He took me upstairs to see their ravaged bedroom. This was part of the add-on he built years ago, a full second story atop the original one-floor structure. Daylight shone through the roof, windows were broken and the carpet was soaked with water.
We chatted awhile about the house, the fire and his plans to rebuild. He said his family had been planning to sell the place soon and move to another they had already purchased several miles away. Those plans are on hold for awhile. I thanked him, wished him the best, and was on my way.
It reminded me how the Petite Filet described her childhood in fear of her family’s Oklahoma house burning down. On the occasions her father would build a fire in their home, she would stay up until he had extinguished the final glowing ember. For me, growing up in Virginia colder climate, we had a much different relationship with fire. In our basement, my dad had a large iron woodstove installed that would burn all the time during the winter – and with a heat-distribution system – would heat the entire house. My dad was a master campfire builder (former Boy Scout), and had even burned leaves before city ordinance put a stop to such foliage disposal. I don’t remember ever giving fire a fearful thought back then. In fact, I was (still am) quite partial to what real flame does to meat and marshmallows.
But I can’t help thinking, seeing that house this week, and having covered house fires before – including one fatal one – how frightening the prospect of fire is. It knows no prejudice and will burn anything it can ... anything that stands in its way. The things many of us hold dear, particularly the people, are most affected by such tragedy.
In His wisdom, God made us to last only long enough to carry out our mission on Earth. We are fleshy, flimsy, prone to aches and pains, able to break, subject to age and decrepitude. We have some protection, such as ribs and our thick skulls. But time, like fire, stops for nobody. It takes us along for the ride and burns everything in its path.
The cure? I could say something here like “live life to the fullest” and “never take a day for granted.” But that’s not realistic. How can anyone do that? Life so often gets in the way of living!
If there’s any moral to the story, it will be one you personally derive. Maybe it’s about having your fireplace professionally installed rather than doing it yourself. Maybe it’s never withholding “I love you” to the ones you love.
Or maybe this is just a pit stop of diversion on the road that is your daily online journey. The beauty of living is that you don’t always have to take with you what you find. Now, if only fire was as courteous.
I have always been afraid that the house will catch on fire. I don't know why. It's not like I have ever been through something like that before. I guess I have seen how devastating it can be.
Having also grown up in Oklahoma, I was more worried about tornados than fire.
Our house had a huge, stone fireplace. The mantle took up an entire wall, and the hearth was about 6 feet long, and about a foot and a half deep. It was sunken into an outside wall, the only thing behind it was a stone bbq pit outside, so maybe that means it was a little safer, housefire wise.
I will say fires are more apt to kill people than tornados, by a long shot. And by fire is definitely not the way I would want to go out.
Good moral, though- living every day as your last is a tall order!
I never had an actual fear my house burning down until a couple weeks ago. A friend of mine set my kitchen on fire. Luckily, it was pretty contained and no major damage was done because the fire alarm woke us up fast enough.
For the next week or so, every time I was driving home and my apartment came into view, I said a quick thanks that it wasn't on fire.
I'm no pyromaniac - but I love fire. I grew up in a house with a gorgeous woodstove that provided warmth throughout the entire home. My first two DC apartments had great fireplaces. I've never felt a fear of flame or fire - preferring to revel in all of its good qualities rather than the destructive elements.
I hope the Petit Filet gets over her fear of fire. Little is better than enjoying a good glass or wine, snuggling beside your beloved as you sit in front of a healthy fire. :)
Pretty thought-provoking stuff. As a child, I always feared the house burning - even though we didn't have a fireplace. Just the thought of losing all of our earthly possessions upset me greatly.
Fire's always played a big part in my life, from growing up around my Dad and uncle who were both volunteer firemen and very involved with the local fire department, to dating my current boyfriend who is a Fire Marshal inspector with a degree in Fire Science. I, myself, work for the Fire Marshal's office have worked intimitately with every part of the office - which is concerned with Life Safety and enacting codes to prevent fire and fire deaths.
I still fear fire, but I always let it remind me to be thankful for what I have everyday as it could so easily be taken away.
Yay! You're back.
My take is the people are alive, safe, and have come away [relatively] unscathed. A lot to be thankful for. Hurricane Isabel ended up costing us around $4,000. Not bad, all-things-considered.
We're in a house that's 40+ years old, and one of the first things we had done was to get the fireplace inspected and repaired. I love real fires (no gas logs for me, mister.) Tonight will be a grand Virginia night to build one. You just have to use a little common sense - unfortunately that's something God (in His wisdom), didn't grant a lot of his people. :-)
Nice piece T-Bone. A fire is a terrifying prospect and does equate in many ways to time's remorselessly quick annihilation of everything.
Well, fire has its place in nature. Occasional forest fires are necessary for growth and continuation of the ecosystem in forests. But we humans have channeled this power, thinking we control it. We don't. Blame Prometheus!
Living in So. Cal, and seeing the fires first hand, and meeting some of the families who lost their homes, definately gives you a new appreciation/fear of fires. The San Bernardino Mountains (which is where Big Bear is) has been devistated first by Beetle Bark, which has killed a huge portion of the forrest and recently the fires.
I couldn't imagine the horror of losing all your lifes memories. That would be the worst.
Great post.
Thought provoking piece. I think if we are honest we are all afraid of being in a fire. The total loss that usually occurs is a terrible thought for most of us. I'm with you- don't take for granted the day we have, for there may not be another.
keeri is deathly afraid of fire and obsessive-compulsive about "things that might set the house on fire" to the point of checking the stove three-to-five times after turning it off...
i'm a little more laid back in that everything in the house is replaceable (except for the animals naturally) and the most important issue with fire is getting her and myself out alive..
i'm still trying to figure out god's mission for me in this life, so far the mission seems to involve dealing people at work who seem to be 1 sandwich shy of a picnic at times.. :)
My husband is a bricklayer, and built our fireplace. I have complete confidence in his work, but I tend to be cautious about things on the manntle and the wreath on the face of the fireplace. We have smoke detectors wired into the house, and they have battery backups, and on my blog I reminded people to change the batteries to be prepared for Christmas. I need to read the instructions on the fire extinguisher, too.
I try not to worry, but it's prudent to prepare.
Gomer piles. Tee hee.