Last night — because I am the best sister on the PLANET, let me just tell you — I drove home to Lebanon so I could pick up a prop for my brother's play. Since I was in town, I had to stop by and see my parents. They would have had a conniption fit had they learned I was in town and didn't pop in. So I drove down Canal Street, parked in my usual spot, and had a quick visit.
I grew up on Canal Street. I ran up and down the little alleyways connecting the row homes, jumped rope and scrawled hopscotch boards in chalk on its sidewalks. The street has remained relatively unchanged since I was 4: A lick of paint here or a new porch railing there, sure. But mostly, everything is exactly how it was when I was growing up.
It's funny how comfortable and reassuring something like that can be. By the same hand, it's something that quickly becomes taken for granted and forgotten about. When I parked last night, I didn't even register or think about the neighborhood. I was so preoccupied with saying my hellos and getting back on the road, that I didn't take notice to what's been there all along.
In the middle of the night, my parents were woken up by the smell of smoke and then sirens. The three houses directly across the street from my house were on fire. One of those houses belonged to Mrs. W, who has been there since I was 8. She and her husband just remodeled their downstairs this past summer. A week and half ago, Mrs. W caught my dad getting out of his car after work and said to him, "Good neighbors are hard to find. Merry Christmas!" and pressed a box of opera fudge into his hands.
It breaks my heart to think of Mr. and Mrs. W and those 8 other people now being homeless, having lost everything so quickly. It terrifies me to think what could have happened if an ember had blown across the way to my parents' roof. Canal Street is not particularly wide; had fireman not arrived when they did, much more of the neighborhood could have been damaged. Just looking at this photo boggles my mind. I can't believe these houses that have been there my entire life, have been gutted beyond repair in a few short hours. These people lost so much last night: Their photographs. Their clothes. Their memories. Please think of them tonight — they need all the good, positive, healing energy the new year can bring.
ETA: I am trying to find out if there's a clothing/support drive for these neighbors. I'll keep you posted if I find anything.
I grew up on Canal Street. I ran up and down the little alleyways connecting the row homes, jumped rope and scrawled hopscotch boards in chalk on its sidewalks. The street has remained relatively unchanged since I was 4: A lick of paint here or a new porch railing there, sure. But mostly, everything is exactly how it was when I was growing up.
It's funny how comfortable and reassuring something like that can be. By the same hand, it's something that quickly becomes taken for granted and forgotten about. When I parked last night, I didn't even register or think about the neighborhood. I was so preoccupied with saying my hellos and getting back on the road, that I didn't take notice to what's been there all along.
In the middle of the night, my parents were woken up by the smell of smoke and then sirens. The three houses directly across the street from my house were on fire. One of those houses belonged to Mrs. W, who has been there since I was 8. She and her husband just remodeled their downstairs this past summer. A week and half ago, Mrs. W caught my dad getting out of his car after work and said to him, "Good neighbors are hard to find. Merry Christmas!" and pressed a box of opera fudge into his hands.
It breaks my heart to think of Mr. and Mrs. W and those 8 other people now being homeless, having lost everything so quickly. It terrifies me to think what could have happened if an ember had blown across the way to my parents' roof. Canal Street is not particularly wide; had fireman not arrived when they did, much more of the neighborhood could have been damaged. Just looking at this photo boggles my mind. I can't believe these houses that have been there my entire life, have been gutted beyond repair in a few short hours. These people lost so much last night: Their photographs. Their clothes. Their memories. Please think of them tonight — they need all the good, positive, healing energy the new year can bring.
ETA: I am trying to find out if there's a clothing/support drive for these neighbors. I'll keep you posted if I find anything.
Labels: Good luck with your hell demons
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