"Fire, Fire" said Mrs. McGuire

One of the stories I read each year to my kindergarteners is Bill Martin's rhyming, rolicking tale "Fire, Fire" said Mrs McGuire.  It's about a group of silly mice who live happily in a cozy closet, until one day they spot a menacing orange glow through their keyhole.  It must be .....fire!  What will they do?  "Water!  Water!" says Mrs. Votter.  "Break down the door!" says Mrs. Orr.  But is all this fuss necessary?  In the end there's a surprise ending...for fire it was not.





I thought about this story yesterday as I drove over to the home of one of my students after school.  At the close of school I learned that Leah's home had burned the day before.  No wonder she was not in school today.  What would I find?  Having gone through a similar experience six years before, I shuddered.  Fire can have such devastating effect.   All your belongings....photos that cannot be replaced...mementos of your life all gone up in smoke. 




This is a picture Lynne M. took last week in our classroom.


Leah lives on a dirt road, her home overlooks cranberry bogs that her grandfather and now her father own.  Leah's house was built by her Grampa, a man we knew very well.  Was it not Mr. Lawson who had befriended us many years ago when he learned we had sons.  Together Lawson, Papa and another fellow, Ken Seaver had started an active Boy Scout Troop in town.  Dave, Leah's Dad is the same age as our Will and they had been boyhood friends.  Together with their fathers,  Will and Dave had camped, hiked and skied.  They had mastered canoeing the rapids of the Saco River in New Hampshire  as well as Opik, snow camping in the mountains of Maine.

Dave married early in life and now has a family of five children....four girls and a boy.  Only last summer he bought the family house from his parents.  Big Dave and Charlene were now snowbirds...and built a beautiful house in Florida.  Only last summer Papa and I had spent an afternoon with them looking at pictures of this new home. 

As I pulled into the driveway, I was surprised.  Little had changed....the front of the house there was little damage.  Perhaps we had gotten a wrong message...perhaps the house had not burned.






Getting out of the car, a putrid smell of burnt plastic and wood lingered in the air.  I knew this smell well. Walking around the back, I could see all too well the effects of the fire.  So sad...a home a burnt out shell. 















This afternoon I will call Craig Weston, the firechief in town and see if we can start a fundraiser.  Eric is a good friend...when he was in fourth grade, I was his teacher.  Together, along with all the other townsfolk working together, maybe we can help Leah's family....just like they helped us six years ago.