No pictures but while I was sitting on the porch, in the sun, on Thursday, I kept hearing sirens and all sorts of "emergency" sounds. I looked around. I sniffed. No smoke. Maybe a car wreck? Nope, it was four acres right behind my house--on fire.
The fire tanker truck couldn't get in to the "nature" area the town calls the Town Commons. It's where kids go to drink, smoke and "carry on" and where citizens dump cars, refrigerators and other good stuff. In order to keep the citizens on the right path, the Town placed two big boulders at the entrance to said Commons. This means they have to carry in any trash they dump and not drive it in.
Well, the boulders also kept the fire department out. So Public Works had to come and lift the boulders out of the way so the fire truck could go in and put out the blaze----which had been burning away while they--"fiddled"???
The Town announced that an emergency evacuation plan had been formulated for nearby homeowners but was not necessary as no property "of any value" was damaged--other than the fire truck, which came very close to being damaged.
This story was the number two news item on the 11 o'clock news and in the local paper on Friday. The top story was about a rabid raccoon.
2 comments:
I miss living in a small town, especially miss the small town newspaper. If I heard sirens or saw a gathering of emergency vehicles in the neighborhood, I knew I would read all about it the next morning. Here in Portland (Oregon, not Maine) the newspaper carries only "important" news and you never know why 5 firetrucks went screaming past your house the night before. I always read the "Police Log" in the small town papers. It was somehow reassuring to read that the police, not only give speeding tickets and chase bad guys, but they escort befuddled Alzheimers patients found wandering in their pajamas and dislodge fat raccoons stuck in drainpipes.
I loved the Town Commons, except for the mosquitos. There are many wonderful things about small towns. Dallas is not a small town.
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