Day 11

I almost wasn’t.

When my brother (born in 1958) was only a few weeks old, there was a fire in the old bank building in downtown.  My dad had gone up the ladder to fight; but when they brought him down and laid him in the street, he was blue and unresponsive.  Had Happy Turner not ripped off his mask (giving him the chance to be revived), neither my daddy - nor I - would be walking this earth today.

My dad served as Asst Chief for the Minden fire department for years.  His best friend and farm business partner, T.C. was the Chief.  While the department was a volunteer force, it had one of the highest ratings in the state and was made up of a great group of people.  Still is today.

In his closet was mounted a bell.  The big 8” alarm kind that you used to see in the halls of schools.  Whenever a fire call came in, it would ring the box number in our house, too.  Four rings, pause.  Three rings, pause.  Four, rings, pause.  Box 434.  The the chart in our utility room would tell my dad where in town to go.  

On my mom’s nightstand was a list.  Seven names and numbers.  Whenever the alarm went off, no matter time of day or night, the list was called.  No hello, when the call was answered.  Simply “Box 4-3-4.”  I loved when she let me make the calls... I felt so important!

But most times when the alarm sounded, you could find me running to the utility room.  I would grab my dad’s bunker gear (boots, pants, and suspenders - all in one piece) place them by the garage door, and wait. As Dad stepped into the boots, I would help him strap the suspenders over his shoulders.  As he walked out the door I would pat him on the back and then (as I had heard my mom say many times) I would call after him … “Be careful, Daddy. I love you!”

The actions we mimic almost always have a back story.  Learning it can be both helpful and important.