Given my father’s acute sense of civic responsibility and his thirst for excitement there is nothing surprising in his having been one of the town’s volunteer firemen.

Thursday, August 09, 2001

Given my father’s acute sense of civic responsibility and his thirst for excitement there is nothing surprising in his having been one of the town’s volunteer firemen.

Lincoln and Omaha and even some very small towns around Nebraska City eventually had dial telephones. As long as our family lived there you made calls through a telephone operator. Telephone numbers consisted of three digits. Our number was 617. Like the numbers of all volunteer firemen it was starred at the telephone office. The minute notice of a fire came in, the proper numbers were called.

If the firemen were at work they called home or a member of the family called them. It was understood that however strict the employers, they immediately turned the firemen loose lest a citizen of the town should lose his home.

As soon as I was old enough to answer the phone I was taught to answer it and if it were a report of a fire to write down the details. By the time I was in the fifth or sixth grade I didn’t wait for the call to come in. When I heard a fire whistle I lifted the receiver from the hook, inquired &uot;Where’s the fire?&uot;, informed my father at his work and took off immediately thereafter to the fire scene myself. This last was no part of my instruction, but I always hated to miss something.

Most of my friends didn’t have a fireman in the family and made no secret of their envy. It came to the point that when I mounted my bicycle to take off there were usually two or three other kids in the yard on their bicycles waiting to take off with me.

The only time I ran into anything like trouble over this was when my friend across the alley had made me promise to come and tell her when I went to the next fire. Unfortunately her father, who eventually became superintendent of schools, was not as easy going as my father or the fathers of most of my friends.

After waiting around for 20 or 30 minutes for my friend across the alley to finish some homework she had to do – and a good fire waits for no one – her father suddenly took an interest in where we were headed.

&uot;No, indeed,&uot; he said, &uot;Bonita wasn’t going to view any fire. Not now. Not ever.&uot;

It didn’t annoy me that she wasn’t going with me. I preferred going to fires by myself. It annoyed me that so much of my time had been wasted waiting for her.

I slammed the door as I left, a little too hard it appeared, and had the horror of hearing all the pots, pans and various other kitchen stores sliding out of their shelves on to the floor.

I had an uneasy feeling that Bonita’s mother might well complain to my mother. Even when days passed without a complaint being registered I stayed away from their house.

Bonita finally hunted me up and inquired why I was never around anymore when she wanted me. I told her the truth. Told her that I’d heard all the pans and such falling when I slammed the kitchen door.

&uot;Was your father very mad at me?&uot; I asked. &uot;What did he say?&uot;

&uot;He just laughed,&uot; Bonita told me. &uot;All he said was, ‘I guess Love has gone home.’&uot;

We had an old opera house in town where movies were shown. Asked to inspect it, dad told the owner that the wiring was faulty, downright dangerous, and should be replaced. It was not done.

Every Christmas day all the kids in town were invited to a free movie at that place. I knew my father didn’t really want me to go, but it would have spoiled Christmas if I couldn’t have gone with them. So before I set off he always conducted a quiz.

Q: &uot;Where are you going to sit to watch the movie?&uot;

A: &uot;Right up next to the red exit sign.&uot;

Q: &uot;If you smell smoke or anyone yells ‘Fire!’ what are you going to do?&uot;

A: &uot;I’m going to get up right away, walk fast, but not run to the exit. I’m not going to fall down so someone will walk on me and I’m going to get as far away from the building as I can.&uot;

We took the hometown paper as long as my father lived. I think it was 15 or 20 years after we had moved away that the theater burned to the ground. Everyone was very sorry. It had been a historical landmark. Those quoted said cause of the blaze was unknown. &uot;Perhaps a tramp had taken shelter there and had been smoking.&uot;

&uot;Tramp, hell!&uot; said my father. &uot;I told them what was going to happen. I’m just surprised it took so long.&uot;

Love Cruikshank is an Albert Lea resident. Her column appears Thursdays.