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Show Fire -Fire -Fire By Emily Wilkerson We saw the yollow-red flames lick up into the white winter sky on the night of Friday, Jan. 28. The car in front of us seemed to jump into the night. Dave pressed on the gas and the horn at the same time. I was running across the road as Mel ran through the door under un-der the leaping flames. "Call the Fire Department," Dave yelled. The fire on the roof didn't look so big. "Can't we throw snow on it and put it out?" I asked Mel as he came out with his hands full. "The ceiling is blazing." I ran through the house looking for a phone. "There isn't a phone," I yelled as I came out. Dave went right on running over to Lloyd's. I stood there feeling so useless, and yelled, "Fire! Fire! Fire," just as loud as I could. I got a chair and ran back out and somewhere out in the night people were calling, call-ing, "Are the kids out? Get the kids out!" I'd been through the house and I hadn't seen any children but maybe I'd missed them. Flames were licking swiftly along the ceiling and at the partition wall. Somewhere out in the night I could hear the fire sirene screaming. scream-ing. I was standing in the bath-room assured the children had gone with Irvin and Corinne. "I can't go out empty handed," pounded through my scattered brain. On the floor was a loose object and I grabbed it up and went sailing out the back door. We no longer could get out the kitchen door. Black figures were coming from all directions over the white snow. They were running, but to me they seemed to creep. Someone jerked the thing I was hugging tightly and asked, "What did you do with the washing machine?" "I got the wringer, didn't I?" I ran back to the door for the washing machine which stood in the kitchen, but flames were leaping leap-ing high across the kitchen floor where part of the ceiling had fallen. fal-len. Everyone was barred from going back in. The car was pushed back across the road to keep it from burning. We turned and saw the back of Bill's trailer house was on fire. Mel dropped on his knees and started throwing snow bare handed. hand-ed. Lloyd came with a shovel and j everybody that could, started to ' throw snow. A car was brought around and hiteffed onto the trailer trail-er house that takes a truck to pull it on a good road. Men pushed push-ed the car and men and women lifted and pushed the trailer house. It was moved out of danger. A big stream of water ' was pouring into the rebelious flames, bringing them down out of the sky. The first I knew Irvin was home he emerged from the smoking smok-ing embers carrying a black, steaming box, saying, "We'll have chicken anyway." My feet were wet and I went into Lloyd's to dry them. In the middle of the kitchen table sat a bottle being filled toward a new home. There was a white paper taped to it which read "Benefit ' for Irvin Miles' Home, Completely Com-pletely Destroyed by Fire." Somebody brought a suitcase i of clothes to help replace those lost in the fire. The phone kept ringing as people peo-ple called to offer the family a place to stay. I could mention a lot of names and tell what they did, but I couldn't begin to name the hearts that were there willing to do their part. We came home with a feeling all would be well, because of the wonderful people that were reaching reach-ing out to help. You know folks, people are the most wonderful tilings on earth, and Roosevelt has the cream of the crop. |