Quote:
Originally Posted by oldE
Unfortunately I can. In December '77, the old farm house we were renting had a chimney failure. I detected the fire in the attic around 6 AM, woke my wife and called the owner, who called the local volunteer fire brigade.
It is funny how one's mind works ( or doesn't) in times of crisis. My wife grabbed clothes from the closet and dresser, threw them on the bed and we used the bedding to get those out to the barn across the road. I remember standing in the kitchen thinking 'we have to have things to eat' and grabbing flour and mixing bowls, ignoring the electric frying pan. All of my photography equipment was in the room where the chimney failed, years of negatives and prints. My wife got our cats into the car and moved it onto the road.
We got some furniture from the ground floor out when help arrived. The house was totally involved by 8.
Later that afternoon, looking through the ashes with the insurance adjuster, I came across a couple of small caliber rifles, the remains of my wife's electric typewriter and a mug. This was special, as it had been given to my wife by her best friend. It sits on a shelf in our kitchen as a reminder that things can be lost, but the love of a good friend stays.
We were lucky. The community rallied around us and we had insurance to allow us to replace many things. No loss of life.
My thoughts are with the tens of thousands who are struggling to know what to do next.
Best
Les |
Very well put Les. It's the small things that we take for granted that mean the most in times of crisis.
I've been through fire loss although it was only a cabin. It was a place we all would gather and it was the place where all of our "collectibles" ended up.
Saddles and tack, Indian rugs, a Fred Harvey collection of pictures, menus and china ware. Some firearms, tools, the truck to haul water from the spring, a VW Thing to travel the backroads, all gone in an instant. A neighbor decided it was a good day to use a cutting torch on his property in high winds. He was fine, we lost everything.
But we had our home to go back to along with our everyday possessions. But the old cabin with the huge fireplace we would warm by after backcountry skiing, the large porch you could target shoot off of, the dining table we spent countless meals around was gone.
Even these days there are constant reminders. You'll see something like a Winchester axe in an antique store and think back "Wow, that's cool. I had one of those but in nicer condition" and you just move on. You have to keep looking forward.