DANCING WITH FLAMES - Segment 3 (Scroll down for earlier segments)

      During the summer, when school was out of session, our local fire department always kept extra personnel on standby.  There was even some talk of building a fire lookout in our neighborhood,  but the petition was invalidated because several neighbors had signed multiple times.
          

     Even though we felt we were accomplished firefighters, Farley Barnsmell, the local sheriff, didn’t hold us in the same high regard.  He viewed us with suspicion.   Just seeing us standing by a vacant lot would cause him to twitch and shake. 
     

     During our training, we learned that failure to stomp out a fire meant dealing with Farley, and he didn’t enjoy fireside chats.  He never believed us when we told him the fire was started by some mysterious “bush.”  Then he would make a big fuss about the danger to nearby homes.  After that he would run through the detention center scenario, which we had memorized.  Rather than undergo intense questioning by Farley in a dimly lit underground bunker, it was better to put out the fire and scatter.
  
     Fire would sometimes sneak up on us when we were least expecting it---probably because it enjoyed our company.  One particularly hot summer day, Lester was minding his own business when he discovered a nest of earwigs had taken up residence in an old mattress, in the orchard behind his house.  He issued an eviction notice, but the earwigs weren’t moving.  Lester realized he would have to take a stand since the mattress was his bed when he camped in the orchard.

     Knowing he couldn’t negotiate with the earwigs, Lester decided he would sweat them out with a little heat therapy.  He grabbed his magnifying glass and went to work.  With a steady hand and fierce concentration, Lester had them sweating so profusely, that they finally gave in and fled the mattress.
        

     Having subdued the earwigs, he went inside and assumed the matter was finished.  That was until his mom heard the sirens and saw a fire truck pull up outside the house.  The smoldering mattress had burst into flames and was threatening the orchard and nearby homes.
  

     As Lester watched the large plume of smoke blot out the hot summer sun, he quickly assessed the situation and came up with a plan.  He would hop the local freight train as it passed slowly through town, and vanish into the night. Unfortunately, it was the middle of the day, and the train wasn’t coming through town.  But his father was coming through town, on his way home from work.

    
    This prompted Lester to consider a change of address.  But it was too late.  His father was home.  He promptly gave Lester some heat therapy.  The earwigs stopped by to watch Lester sweat. 
     

    Lester was banned from possession of a magnifying glass until he was twenty-one.  His parents considered it a firearm.

    Of course, the ever-plotting Lester was still considering his options.  He thought he should get a new mattress in exchange for the magnifying glass.  After several months, he presented the idea to his parents.  They agreed, as long as Lester kept the mattress on his bed.


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DANCING WITH FLAMES - Segment 2 (Scroll down for opening segment)


     They also caused me to look back on my own youth.  It was barely visible. I didn’t realize it would be easier spotting the North Star.  I was finally able to bring my youth into focus with a pair of high-powered binoculars.  “Oh, there it is.”…”Wow! That’s way back there…”  Just being able to find it rekindled memories of a glorious childhood.  Then there was my own childhood...

     I hadn’t planned on saying anything here, because I didn’t want you putting me on a pedestal.  But, I, myself, was a firefighter years ago.  In fact, I come from a long line of firefighters.  Well…I don’t know if the line is that long.  It was primarily my cousins and me…who fought fires during our youth.  

     Like most kids, whose dream is to become a firefighter, we felt that bond with fire at an early age.  Of course, learning to fight fires required the use of an actual fire.  You couldn’t fight a fire unless you had a fire to fight.   We figured the best way to learn was to start our own fires.  It just so happened that there were a number of vacant lots and old orchards nearby, with plenty of dry grass that provided the perfect training ground for us to learn our firefighting skills.

     I can still remember my own two legs driving furiously up and down like two well-oiled cylinders, as I attempted to stomp out any remaining fire in the dry grass of a vacant lot.   My cousins and I called it “Dancing with Flames.” 

    

     By the age of ten we had put out more fires than most veteran firefighters.  Any one of us could have qualified as Fire Chief.  Our camaraderie was strengthened by a common bond:  We smelled like smoke.  We thought it was an air freshener. 

   

     Our ability to start a fire led some to believe that just our standing in a vacant lot could cause the entire lot to burst into flames.

     Some of us considered fire a rite of passage from youth to adulthood, although my campfire in a haystack almost caused me to miss the passage to adulthood.  

     During the summer,...

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DANCING WITH FLAMES - Opening segment (Scroll down for previous chapters)


       I've always been told that a dog is man’s best friend.  But some dogs I wouldn't want as friends.  This is why most of the dogs I know are just casual acquaintances.   

    

      Even though there are many who have found dogs to be wonderful companions, I really believe that fire is man’s best friend.  What man doesn’t like fire?  Man has been fascinated with fire since the beginning of time, probably earlier; certainly earlier than the invention of the dog.

     
      Fire has that magical, magnetic pull that attracts a man.  I, myself, felt this magnetism at an early age, when I would often have to anchor myself to some fixed object to keep from being pulled into a drawer full of matches. 

 

     Just the other day I heard a man say he could watch a fire for hours.  Sure, this man may be in need of treatment, but it just shows you the power of this bond between man and fire. 

     Why do you think we celebrate the fourth of July?  It’s so a man can mortgage his house and buy enough fireworks to light up three states.

     This attraction to fire is what led our local fire department to call in firefighters from neighboring towns, as well as several smokejumpers, to quell a raging grass fire behind the old farmhouse one summer.  Our son said he was just attempting to burn the garbage, but it looked more like a cookout, with dry grass as the main ingredient.  His fire blackened an entire field.  We were thankful the nearby homes were spared.  My wife said he was just following in my footsteps.

     The following summer, we had an encore performance by my good friend, Ozzie, who was watching our farmhouse while we were away. Ozzie claimed he was just making another attempt on our garbage.  Surveying the blackened field, it was obvious Ozzie had made a mockery of Fire Prevention Week.  He said it felt like he was re-living his childhood.  The fire chief said that explained Ozzie's narrow escape from youth, and why he had to apply several times for adulthood. 

   

     These fires made me think of the tremendous respect and admiration I have for firemen, putting their lives on the line every day to save and protect others.

   
     They also caused me to look back on my own youth.  I had to cover my eyes...



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ANT PYRAMIDS - Final segment (Scroll down for earlier segments)


     This is when the clothes started flying.  I tried to calm Ernie down, but it was useless.  It was looking like I might have to move before the going-away party.  I knew if anyone shined a light on us, it wouldn’t be a pretty sight.  We not only had a fire going; we had a naked body with arms flying, dancing around a blazing ant hill. 

     I could just hear the neighbors…”Harold, get up and look at this.  If my medication isn’t causing me to hallucinate, it looks like there’s a naked person in the vacant lot, swinging his arms wildly and dancing around a fire.” 
    
     “It’s probably those crazy neighborhood kids practicing some ancient rain dance.”

     “I think it’s more likely to bring on a severe drought, although those boys could use a good soaking.” 

  

    While everyone in camp worked feverishly to subdue the fire, Ernie had, once again, stumbled away in the darkness.  I hoped Ernie wouldn’t attract any attention, since he’d left his clothes scattered about the campsite.  Then I thought how nice it would be if he had the lantern, because there were many more ant pyramids in his path.  Ernie would have to watch his step, although his quick movements probably wouldn’t have given any more ants time to react and jump aboard.

     As I looked at the broken lantern, amidst the smoldering ruins of the ant hill, I heard a door slam.  Ernie had made it back to the house.  How he weaved his way back in the dark was considered a miracle by some.  After a shower and a couple days sleep, Ernie was like new, but he never again camped in the land of the ant pyramids.

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