I have been getting questions lately as to when my husband's caveman instinct to discover fire first manifested itself. His family was visiting his grandparent's house when the opportunity availed itself in the form of a pack of matches left unattended on a table.
My husband, always the Curious George, took that book of matches and snuck outside with them before anyone could discover them missing. He found a place on the edge of the yard between his grandparent's house and the neighbor's, where no one could see what he was doing.
He figured out how to open the flap and then fiddled around with the matches until he figured out how to pull each match out of the packet. He immediately set about trying to strike the matches with enough force to get one to light, just as he'd seen his parents and grandparents do. After multiple failed attempts, he got a little frustrated with it and gave it some extra muscle as he slid the match along the strike strip. Instantly the match lit. Like a cave dweller, he marveled over the first fire he was able to create.
As he gazed at the fire, the match burned closer and closer to his fingers. Not knowing what to do with the match as the flame was now starting to burn so close to his fingers that it was becoming painful to hold the match (I guess blowing out the flame didn't cross his mind), my husband dropped the lit match........ on a dry yard.
The grass started smoking instantaneously. As he sat and watched in horror, the fire grew. Not knowing what to do but knowing he would be in deep trouble if he was caught, he high-tailed it to his grandparent's back patio and acted like he had been playing there for hours. Neighbors noticed the fire as it grew and the fire department was called out, arriving with sirens blaring. While all this commotion was going on, my husband continued to sit on the patio as if he was completely oblivious to it all and innocent of any wrongdoing.
His parents knew something was up when he hadn't come running outside at the first sound of the fire engine arriving. When they found him on the back patio, he acted like he was completely unaware of the smoke which had almost completely enveloped him at that point. The jig was up when they asked him if he knew anything about the fire and, while coughing from the smoke, he said he didn't know anything about any fire.
The neighbor's prized front lawn was completely burnt up but thankfully the house didn't sustain any damage. My husband's punishment? Well, let's just say his parents taught him a very valuable lesson in the dangers of playing with fire. Of course, I learned about this after we were married and after the incident with the fire ants........
by: Christie Bielss
“You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4, not with a parade of guns, tanks, and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness. You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism.” - Erma Bombeck
Every year in celebration of America's independence, my family always pauses to thank those who came before us and sacrificed life, limb, and even their own family's safety, in order for us to live freely and to pursue our own dreams.
This celebration almost always consists of bbq, my grandmother's potato salad and deviled egg recipes, baked beans, corn on the cob, and watermelon. And to finish off the food-fest is homemade ice cream, apple pie, and Texas sheet cake.
As part of our celebration, we always have sparklers to play with. What would July 4th be without handing our children a 3,000°F fire on the end of the stick and telling them to be careful and not burn themselves after having just taught them not to play with matches or fire.
After the sparklers comes the grown-up's turn to play. Over the years we've had a few minor mishaps with fireworks which have resulted in us making sure we have a garden hose close by. We've misjudged how far the firework will shoot and have had to chase a few down. We've also had to hose down our roof from where our neighbors have misjudged their firework's shooting distance.
But the ultimate year of firework madness came just a few years ago. A neighbor had travelled to a bordering state and picked up some real fireworks while my husband picked up the kid-friendly ones. All of the neighbors were standing outside ready for the show we were going to put on. The neighbor and my husband had made some great finds! Some shot way up in the air and exploded in a blaze of colorful glory. Others whirled and zipped around so fast your eyes couldn't make out where the actual firework was. They had others that sent out little spinning shooters across the ground in every direction and turned different colors. And the kids loved the firecrackers that exploded when they threw them down on the concrete.
But like any grand finale, they saved the best for last. They had picked up some rockets. I moved my children and our neighbor's children into our garage thinking it would be the perfect place to protect everyone but still have a bird's eye view of the show. My car was in the garage, so if the kids got scared, they could hop in it and look through the windows. Another Mom decided that was a good, safe place to stand, so the 2 of us stood in the garage with the kids.
The men had to figure out which end was the shooting end of the rocket since it didn't have an arrow pointing "this end up". They positioned it on our driveway so the fireworks weren't going toward anyone's house and would shoot directly into the center of the street. With excitement that positively crackled in the air, they lit the rocket launcher's wick.
The first rocket exploded out of the launcher's canon with lightning speed ........... and went straight into our garage. "Oh cr*p!" my neighbor said, "those idiots turned the rocket launcher the wrong way!". The rocket was launching fire balls in rapid succession at all of us in the garage! We were having to jump as high as we could in the air to avoid getting hit in the legs and shins!
The kids in the garage were standing there screaming as we grabbed them by the arms and flung them bodily out of the garage while hopping over rockets. My husband and the neighbor had to time grabbing the launcher perfectly in order to flip it around and not have one of the rockets launch directly into themselves, or any of the neighbor's windows, or, heaven forbid, the groups of people standing around.
Luckily, nothing caught on fire from the fireballs exploding in the garage and no one was injured during the incident. I can't say that 2 men didn't get a verbal beating when the rocket finally quit firing and we were able to regain our breath.
Every time I hear our national anthem played and they get to "the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air", it reminds me of having to jump the rockets. We decided after this experience that we should invite the local fire department to our party every year. We could feed them some bbq and play some yard games........... before they have to rescue us or put out whatever fire we inevitably start.
by: Christie Bielss
"When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” To this day, especially in times of “disaster,” I remember my mother’s words and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers – so many caring people in this world." A quote by Fred Rogers, aka Mister Rogers.
When I was growing up, my parents always told us something similar: "There is good in every situation. Sometimes you have to dig a bit deeper and look a bit harder for it, but there will be good."
The events of this week have been mind-boggling. Every day has had an event occur which is so horrific, it has knocked me off-kilter and made me question where mankind is headed. And then I see or hear about "the helpers" and my faith is restored. I think we all could use some "helper" stories.
Monday I sat and watched the Boston Marathon bombing as it unfolded on the news. The chaos and horror before my eyes was surreal. I watched as the news camera was showing people running away from the bombed areas to safety and saw the look of panic and fear on their faces...... and I felt helpless. I live across the country from Boston, so there was nothing I could do to help at that moment.
Within seconds of seeing people fleeing the area, I then saw people running toward the injured. They were like fish trying to swim upstream as they negotiated their way through the crowds of people running away. But, by the looks on their faces, they were determined to help those who needed it so desperately. A lump developed in my throat and my heart jumped as I shouted "THERE THEY ARE! There are "The Helpers"! These "helpers" started grabbing the temporary fencing that had been used to block off the sidewalk from the runners and were flinging it aside to get to the injured people trapped underneath it. Men were taking off their shirts to use as gauze and whipping off their belts to use as tourniquets. Others were quickly carrying, or racing wheelchairs loaded with injured people to ambulances and a triage area. With little thought to their own safety, these people went back time after time to the affected area.
And just when you think the horror is over, a fertilizer plant in West, Texas explodes with enough force to register as a 2.1 magnitude earthquake and level part of a community. Scores were injured and an unknown number were killed. As my mind tried to wrap itself around this latest event, my heart leapt when I saw scores of communities from all over the state immediately send fire, police, EMT's, Careflight helicopters, and many others to assist this community. There are "the helpers"! A call went out that everyday items were needed to assist these families who had lost everything. Within a few short hours, West was inundated with every item they'd requested from people around the state who had dropped everything they were doing, hopped in their vehicles, and immediately delivered it to this devastated community. These are "the helpers".
As I sat down last night to watch the evening news, they showed a clip of the Boston Bruin's game as they were performing their opening ceremony for the first time since the bombing. The National Anthem was being performed and all of the fans, players, and coaches were singing their hearts out. It was one of the most powerful and patriotic versions I have ever heard. If you haven't heard it, or you've only heard a small clip, then here is a link to the posting on youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZzMsagY7oRs. They too are "the helpers".
If you know of more "Helper" stories, share them. Help others find the good. We all need help sometimes finding "the good" and "the helpers". By sharing more of the good, you then become one of "the helpers", and we can all use some good.
by: Christie Bielss
