My parents' house burned down!
So I was visiting Vyts in Augustana and, whilst sleeping, missed a call from my mom. About an hour later, I got a text from Ann, which read:
"Mom and dad's house burned down completely. They're surveying the damage right now. You should give them a call."
That cryptic message burning a hole in my brain, I excused myself from our lively debate about the merits of rubber ape masks and called my mom. The following story ensued:
My parents own(ed) a house that they have been renovating for the past year. As recently as last night, the plumbers and electricians were putting the finishing touches on the house before it was drywalled, repainted and ready to live in. So, last night, whether as a result of faulty electrical work or careless use of plumbing tools (when installing and fitting pipes, apparently it's not uncommon to use a cutting torch, among other flammable devices), a small fire broke out somewhere in the house. By the time the neighbors noticed and called 911, the whole house was smoking, and by the time the first fire truck had arrived, it was a towering inferno. The flames were apparently so hot that a tree in the backyard combusted and burned to the ground. By the time the fire had burned itself out, all that remained was the front outside wall. My parents, miles away and safely tucked in their beds, were oblivious to the events that had unfolded until some intrepid reporter googled their names and found contact information for my brother, who he began to grill for information about the fire. Scott, who lives six states away in Kansas, had no idea what was going on and called my parents to find out what was happening. And that's how they found out their house was gone. You'd think the fire department would have a procedure for that or something...
So here's the good news. The house was being renovated, so my parents, their dogs, and nothing of any real sentiment or value was inside. They've got a place to stay while they figure out what they're going to do and plenty of time, money and emotional support to get through this relatively unscathed (my grandparents live a couple blocks away and actually reached the scene of the crime before my parents did). The fire didn't spread to the rest of the neighborhood, and nobody got hurt during the whole fiasco. My mom's pretty upset about losing something she put so much time into, and I imagine my dad is as well, but he'll never show it. But there are about a million other ways this could have gone down, and all of them have much more tragic endings. If you know my parents and feel the urge, by all means drop them a line, I'll give you their e-mail address or whatever if you need it. I'm sure they'd appreciate it.
"Mom and dad's house burned down completely. They're surveying the damage right now. You should give them a call."
That cryptic message burning a hole in my brain, I excused myself from our lively debate about the merits of rubber ape masks and called my mom. The following story ensued:
My parents own(ed) a house that they have been renovating for the past year. As recently as last night, the plumbers and electricians were putting the finishing touches on the house before it was drywalled, repainted and ready to live in. So, last night, whether as a result of faulty electrical work or careless use of plumbing tools (when installing and fitting pipes, apparently it's not uncommon to use a cutting torch, among other flammable devices), a small fire broke out somewhere in the house. By the time the neighbors noticed and called 911, the whole house was smoking, and by the time the first fire truck had arrived, it was a towering inferno. The flames were apparently so hot that a tree in the backyard combusted and burned to the ground. By the time the fire had burned itself out, all that remained was the front outside wall. My parents, miles away and safely tucked in their beds, were oblivious to the events that had unfolded until some intrepid reporter googled their names and found contact information for my brother, who he began to grill for information about the fire. Scott, who lives six states away in Kansas, had no idea what was going on and called my parents to find out what was happening. And that's how they found out their house was gone. You'd think the fire department would have a procedure for that or something...
So here's the good news. The house was being renovated, so my parents, their dogs, and nothing of any real sentiment or value was inside. They've got a place to stay while they figure out what they're going to do and plenty of time, money and emotional support to get through this relatively unscathed (my grandparents live a couple blocks away and actually reached the scene of the crime before my parents did). The fire didn't spread to the rest of the neighborhood, and nobody got hurt during the whole fiasco. My mom's pretty upset about losing something she put so much time into, and I imagine my dad is as well, but he'll never show it. But there are about a million other ways this could have gone down, and all of them have much more tragic endings. If you know my parents and feel the urge, by all means drop them a line, I'll give you their e-mail address or whatever if you need it. I'm sure they'd appreciate it.