I Am the Fireman

I am the fireman, fixer of electrical and mechanical stuff and default trail guide.  Steve is the cook and holder of “the gun” and Dave is the muscle guy of our group.  We just returned from the Enchanted Forest upon finding the Lost Lake of Narnia.  I was hoping the real family fun going on here might counter events in play on the west coast.

My three year old grandson took my hand for a walk in my woods.  Like I told him he was not scared, pointing out funny looking mushrooms, animal tracks and holes in the ground.  He would have gladly taken me on an all day trek but I steered the path back towards the logging road.  We cemented our bonds the first year he came here, that magical ATV ride. I played back the the memories for him.  Years of fun, events by all who attended my evening fires, swam with beavers in the mountain stream and savored majestic mountain vistas.  At the time I thought he was closer to God, recently being born and all so maybe just maybe he had those skills to “feel the love”.  He has for two years told me he knows.  May I live long enough to help him navigate his life.  Should I tell him perils of the dark side or the heavy burdens of Knighthood.  Ah, let him be a kid in Camelot as I was for it will take love to guide him later.

Evening brought another fine meal of steak tips and corn on the cob from Steve and I started the fire.  It was a fine mix of cedar for light and oak for lasting marshmellow cooking coals.  A mattress inflator coupled to a three foot copper pipe has allowed me to demonstrate glass melting from the hardwood coals in the later evening but all in our group have already seen this.  The blower is noisy so we look toward the full moon as it lights up the stream.  One very hot year we did night swimming as I hooked up an experimental light, flooding the area with daylight.

I know.  I can melt glass with regular wood and additional oxygen but I will never believe three steel buildings imploded upon their own footprints from an oxygen deprived black smoke fire.  Regular tin cans don’t smelt in the fire, no how no way.  Steve’s wife catches a fast moving object in the sky and says “It’s your satellite!”

I look up and reply “Yeah, well all of you brought your cell phones so they know where I am.”