So I was told, rather enthusiastically by Kaya, that I should share the stories of the insanity I call family. Don’t misunderstand me, my fam is the best and I love them enormously, but the funniest things seem to happen to them. For instance…

When I was a child, my father used to burn the trash in a barrel. We lived out in the country on a half acre, with nothing around but orange trees. There was no garbage service in the area, and burning it was easier than going to the dump. So Dad was burning the trash one day and he had to go to the bathroom. He made sure the fire was under control and headed inside for a sec. Well, I suppose he just for got about the trash. He went into the studio and started watching a movie. In a few minutes, the phone rang and it was my grandmother who lived 2 lots over. “Tony, honey…are you burning trash?”

“Oh my gosh!” He dropped the phone and ran outside to find the entire back yard on fire. The flames were steadily crawling across the empty lot toward my grandmother’s house. Frantically, my dad ran around trying to find our hose, but when he did he realized it was too short to sufficiently douse the flames. He threw the hose down and grabbed my little green sand box pail. Running back and forth from the hose to the fire, he dropped the contents onto the flames and ran back to refill. Relief began to set in when he heard the fire engine siren. My grandmother all 4 feet and 7 inches was standing in the driveway flagging the engine down, as though the smoke billowing up from acre of flaming earth was no indication of where the trouble was. The enormous truck pulled into the driveway and in about 3 seconds they had smothered the inferno. My father stood breathless, sweaty and smudged with soot from head to toe. The fireman’s helmet glinted in the sun, “You got a burn permit?”

Dad ran in the house and madly dialed my mother at work.
“Luce–where’s the burn permit?!?”
“What? What’s going on?”
“Where’s the burn permit???”
“In the desk….wha–“

He ran outside permit in hand. The fireman turned it over. “You ever read these specifications on the back here?”

Dad gulped, “Uh, uh–no sir.”

“See that you follow this next time. This one’s on us.”

And with that he climbed into the truck and drove off. I guess you can’t be too hard on a guy holding a little green bucket.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *