Firemen

We live on a small island thirty minutes by ferry boat from Seattle. On Sunday the pharmacy shuts at four. The police department never opens on week-ends and closes at 5:30 on weekdays.

A couple years ago our meth addict/dealer, white trash renter neighbors started using their open air storage pen as a dog residence. The animal cried and howled its first night out. I called the cops. The station was closed. The recording instructed me to dial 911 for assistance. Apologizing to the 911 operator for making such an insignificant call I asked if a police officer might knock on my neighbor's door. She could hear the dog howling which PISSED her off so in seconds my little condo neighborhood was crawling with all five of our police officers seeking access to the property next to us. The dog was removed and soon after the house was abandoned.

We've since moved from our little town house at The Courtyards On Madison to an early eighties rambler just outside of town. The original owner built the house back in 1980-81 and moved in with is wife. She died here leaving him alone until last year at 87 with a cancer diagnosis he walked out to the back half of our 2/3 acre to blow out his brains.

Twenty-three children live on this cul de sac. Fourteen of them are from a single family. They are neither Mormon or Catholic. The oldest is a freshman at college the youngest is a newborn. The neighborhood kids all seemed to love the old guy, they called him Hap.

Hap's house has undergone a serious renovation since August when we closed escrow. Since Paul has started landscaping the children appear to have adopted him as their new Hap. It is through these little ones we hear what their parents think about our work. We couldn't bear to live with a blue exterior so it was repainted "Amazon" by C2 Paints. Imagine the darkest mossy muddy brown green that nearly meets the edges of black. Yes. Black. Like at night, voila, the house has vanished. "Amazon".

The children love it. Their parents don't. The parents don't know we know what they think about our house color.

The air of mystery is PALPABLE. Seventy trees arrived on a flat bed the same day sixty boulders and earth moving equipment returned to the site. That day we had two UPS deliveries. I was having my Rector Search committee meeting so nine cars parked on the street along my house. Our neighbors came and went rubber necking as they drove past, waving meekly at me when I was out.

Friday night the entire fire department came to call. It was five thirty when the smoke alarm went off. Our fireplace had a magnificent blaze going. As the can lights overhead were off I couldn't tell the room had filled with smoke. Thank goodness for those annoying smoke detectors. Trying to locate the origin of the smoke Paul poked his head into the crawl space. After he did that I remembered the scene in Towering Inferno when some ninny opened a door to be lapped at by, well, an inferno. Neither of us found miscellaneous flames but I did notice the plexi-glass covering the priceless collage above the fireplace was sort of in pre-melt stage. Eeeek. That wall was hot to the touch like so hot I could have been nailed sliced potatoes to it and watched them roast.

Did I mention I was roasting a chicken with fennel and leeks? The house smelled great.

Paul and I argued over whether or not to call the fire department knowing it was probably closed so we would have to call 911. My God the smoke detector wouldn't shut itself no matter how hard we fanned. We even had the floor fan going still the smoke wouldn't dissipate. So I tapped out 911 and pleaded with the dispatcher to send a minimal amount personnel, asking her for a simple consultation. All we wanted to know was might the chimney interior self combust. I made Paul hide the electric fan so the firemen wouldn't think we had tried to remedy the situation ourselves.

Realizing we didn't have house numbers anywhere I thought I would stand on the front porch to flag down the consultant. Two medic car, (sirens) two police cars, (sirens) four hook and ladder affairs (sirens) and the chief's car arrived at our place. Paul stayed inside re-arranging the living furniture and tucking away the more delicate objets in case the fire persons came charging in with hatchets. The men actually vigorously wiped their boots before entering.

As the fire teams leaped from their conveyances to complete suiting up I poked my head in the door to suggest Paul might want to feign smoke inhalation or maybe even collapse to make this less of a nuisance call for the guys. Not to mention they were all sort of cute.

Of course we knew several of them. Or I mean they knew us. I could see from our living room windows all of our neighbors peering around the vans and trucks trying to get a glimpse. The mystery deepens.