Writers Tricks of the Trade Issue 2 Volume 8 | Page 12

He would drive the pickup to deserted
streets and let me stand on the running
board while holding onto the side of the
pickup truck, just like a fireman would do
on the way to a big fire. He drove very
slowly, letting my imagination run wild.
Of course if I was a child today, my
grandfather would probably be reported
by some do-gooder for child endanger-
ment, and he would be occupying a jail
cell for allowing me to ride on the side of
the pickup truck. But, back then we had a
blast playing firemen together.
My grandmother and grandfather’s
house was large and not insulated like
houses are today. The house looked like a
large barn with garage space on the
ground level and the two floors above
were the living spaces. The house was
heated by a large coal furnace and steam
radiators. Mornings and evenings and
sometimes even in the afternoon on ex-
tremely cold days, my grandfather or un-
cle had to bank the fire and make sure the
furnace had enough coal to keep everyone
and the house warm. Many were the day
I stood by and watched them shoveling
copious amounts of coal into the roaring
furnace.
At that time my grandmother’s health
was precarious. She received intravenous
infusions on an almost daily basis. The IV
bottles weren’t returned so a used one
became my fire engine, pumping water
out the long rubber hose each bottle came
equipped with. Now I could have my toy
hook and ladder trucks with extending
ladders and a pumper with a real water
supply to fight my imaginary fires.
W RITERS ’ T RICKS OF THE T RADE
While I was growing up, every kid had
a water pistol. When feeding the furnace,
my grandfather, let me give the roaring
fire a few squirts of water from my water
pistol, kind of like it was from the small
booster hose line on my imaginary fire
engine. I was thrilled as the water and
flames collided, causing a hissing sound
and a rush of steam. The fire and the wa-
ter engaged in their struggle to overcome
one another.
Sometimes, my grandfather gave me a
bigger thrill and let me spray some water
from my imaginary fire engine with the IV
bottle. This caused more water to flow on
the fire, creating a louder hiss and more
steam.
One bitterly cold afternoon I was
alone in the lower level of the house. Well,
not completely alone, my dog, Snowball, a
Siberian Husky, was with me and so was
the coal furnace. Snowball’s water bowl,
filled nearly to the brim, sat on the floor.
My curious mind wondered and began
calculating, if a water pistol makes a small
hiss and a little steam, and an IV bottle act-
ing as a fire engine makes a bigger hissing
sound and more steam, I wonder how
much hissing and steam, Snowball’s bowl
of water would make?
I opened the furnace door, and ginger-
ly lifted Snowball’s bowl. On the count of
three I heaved the water into the furnace.
I immediately found out how much more
steam and hissing Snowball’s bowl of wa-
ter would make – A LOT!
It was like being in a Turkish bath on a
humid day. There was a great deal of re-
sidual steam floating around the ground
P AGE 7
S UMMER 2018