Luckily for us, one of Dad’s neighbors—Mr. Tumlinson, who didn’t go to our church but who I had known for most of my life due to living next door to Dad’s house—had seen the smoke and called the South Side Volunteer Fire Department as soon as he realized something was wrong. The fire truck came not less than fifteen minutes later and the brave volunteer firefighters put out the fire before it got too out of control. As a result, they managed to save most of the house, though the basement was practically destroyed and I didn’t want to think about how much it would cost to clean and repair all of the damage caused by the flames.
As for Dad, the fire fighters took him to the hospital as soon as they saw the condition in which he was in. I went along with them, partly because I suffered from
