Christmas can be full of drama. Witness the above photo taken outside my home on Christmas Eve 1958. I was ten. My younger brother (13)was off with his girlfriend. My eldest brother (16) wanted out as well. It was lucky that he was allowed to go, for as he left he turned to look at the house and discovered the roof was on fire. He called the fire department. The rest of us acted in ways particular to our natures. I grabbed all the animals. (This was years after my brother's baby alligator escaped.) My grandmother rescued my mother's mink stole. My mother yelled at my brother to stop throwing hot water on the fire. My father went for his manuscripts. He was being sued at the time.
The attic and second floor were badly burned. The only thing left in the attic was a toy metal firetruck which my younger brother still has today. He missed most of the drama but he got the prize.
