911 Emergency?
The big day had arrived! My husband, my infant daughter (2 months old) and I were moving into our first house. We had been living in a rental, and we would have stayed there longer, but the homeowners sold it right under our feet to relatives who wanted to use the home for themselves.
I had looked for a place for months, and there was nothing that we could afford that I liked. This house was no different. It was in sad shape but in a great community and only 7 minutes away from my husband’s job. We had the renovation of this house in our head, but for now, all we could remedy was the basement washer and dryer and the dishwasher installation. There were plans in the works for a kitchen overhaul. I needed it desperately, but the money was making me hold off. I would soon find out, and that became immediate.
On the way to the house, I was about the third car waiting for a red light to switch to green. My baby was sleeping, all strapped up. The traffic was heavier than I expected. I was thinking about where to place a playpen-bassinet combination in the living room while I was going to clean the windows. The moving truck was scheduled for the next day.
All of a sudden, a cop knocked on my window. I rolled it down, and he shouted at me that I had passed a stopped school bus. I looked at him like he was crazy. I didn’t see a school bus on either side of the street, and if I passed one, so did everyone else before me.
He didn’t care for my logic. He was screaming, and of course, he woke up the baby. He must have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed because he started yelling louder that I should “shut the kid up.”
Although I was 23, I looked like a teenager, especially that morning. I wore jeans and a T-shirt, my long hair in a ponytail and no makeup. I told him nicely to please lower his voice. He woke the baby up, and he wasn’t helping by yelling. I continued to protest my innocence, but he gave me a ticket and a date to attend traffic court. I traveled on to my new house.
Walking into that dilapidated house, I heard something. It was coming from the basement. I carried the baby in her car seat to the empty floor in the living room/family room. I took off her outer clothes and gave her the pacifier. She calmed down for the time being.
I traced the sound to the basement and noticed a stream coming from the kitchen and winding its way to a ventilation grate on the floor in the hall. I walked downstairs to the basement and was greeted with about 2 feet of water. This was way before cell phones or anything similar to it. Luckily, the phone service was still functioning. I dialed 911 and explained the problem. The operator connected me to the fire department, and they came to the house quickly. It was a broken gasket from the dishwasher installation the day before. I knew it was a temporary hookup. I wasn’t sure exactly where the dishwasher would be in the new kitchen.
The fire department was excellent. They had everything under control, and they pumped out my basement. The firefighters were efficient and friendly. Some of them were pretty new fathers, and they offered advice. When they left my house, I had a wonderful feeling about choosing this particular property to settle in.
Fast forward 14 years or so. My now 14-year-old daughter and 11-year-old son sit in the family room, watching TV. I come home tired and cranky. My kids knew you had to give me a few minutes after I walked in. My son tried to tell me something, but the dragon voice ( they named that ) stopped him. I just started to do my everyday things; I noticed something outside in the backyard. There were blinds on the windows so I couldn’t make it out too well. “ My son finally said, Mom, the backyard is on fire!”
I ran over to the window and took a good look. Sure enough, the yard's perimeter, which had large, overgrown bushes, was lapped up by flames. I ran for the phone (we still had rotary wall-mounted phones) and tried to make my fingers work. I asked my son to dial. The fire department was already on the way, and they arrived simultaneously as I hung up. The whole thing was put out easily and quickly. I must have known what caused the fire at one time, but I can’t remember why or how. The damage was to the rear of the property. There was the tiniest of chances that the fire would have reached the house.
Over the 30 years that we lived there, we extended the house and rearranged all the rooms. The only thing we didn’t do was extend the upstairs. The kids were already out of the house when we had enough money for that renovation. We had our plan to move, so it never happened. We did, however, renovate the bathroom from hell. I wish we had done that many years before.
