Happy Childhood Memories

Red lights flashing, sirens wailing—happy childhood memories.

The squawk of the dispatch center in our breakfast room and the smoke-embedded gear in our laundry room signaled that volunteer fire fighters lived here.  Sometimes my parents would awaken my sister and me in the middle of the night, bundling us up with strict instructions to stay in the car. Enclosed in our cocoon, we peered through the sooty haze to watch our very own Super Friends. Grabbing a hose instead of a golden lasso and driving fire trucks instead of Batmobiles, they used their superpowers to serve mankind. 

 I vividly recall the Saturday morning when a neighbor banged on our door just about the time the Sleestaks were about to capture Will and Holly.  I stepped outside to see our neighbor’s roof engulfed in flames.  My parents grabbed their gear and joined other neighbors to fight the common enemy. Furniture filled the lawns as they worked together to salvage as much as they could.  

             4^th of July meant throwing candy to other children while riding atop the fire engine as it lumbered down the parade route.  Early one morning, fire trucks rolled up to our house with sirens blazing to collect my dad for his 40^th birthday celebration.

Another fun tradition consisted of the summer BBQ, auction, and dance, raising money to buy equipment and build new fire stations in our fast-growing community.  Too young to care about boys, I looked forward to dancing with my father and joining the line for the Cotton-Eye Joe, yelling a word that on any other day would have gotten my mouth washed out with soap!

Fellow fire fighters often gathered at our house to enjoy and ridicule the tv drama, Emergency. To this day I cannot refrain from yelling at a fictional fire fighter dashing into a house fire without his gear, much to my children’s embarrassment. 

Red flashing lights may fill others with dread, but for me they mean community, service and fellowship—memories that make me smile.