Walking home from yesterday's building, just around the corner on Olympia Avenue, I saw a young woman holding a baby and with two very small children, standing just outside her front door talking on a cell or otherwise cordless phone. She was obviously upset, but calm enough to be polite. ("Yes, ma'am.") She must have been talking to 9-1-1; given how quickly the fire trucks came, she must have been on for a while and they may have been keeping her on the line to keep her calm. It's a terrible little building, a duplex like two shotgun shacks turned sideways. Also with window units for AC, but with a small satellite dish. No matter how poor you are, you have to be plugged into the entertainment monster.
Two pumper trucks came and one ladder truck. I thought the latter was overkill since it was a one-story building and a low one at that, but by this morning, the roof was boarded up, meaning part of it must have burned away. There was obvious smoke damage out one window (also boarded up) and no sign of the young family, not surprisingly. It was weird because I was only feet away and never even smelled smoke. The lady and her young children seemed to be breathing perfectly well; there were no coughs that I could hear.
So while I'm very sorry that they lost their rental apartment and that their possessions were likely smoke and water damaged, I'm so grateful that they came out unhurt. And wish them every good luck in the future.
(Why didn't you stay to help, John? It looked like a lady talking on the phone and standing in front of her house with her kids. As I say, I didn't smell smoke and she didn't sound all that alarmed. It was only when the fire trucks rolled up and stopped there that I was sure that something was wrong. And firemen are often called for grease fires that get contained with no damage at all. In other words, I didn't know it was a small tragedy until today.)
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