When the Firemen Came

Here they come—no sirens

It was around 7:10 p.m. on a hot Friday in July when the firemen came. My husband, Ken, was already at the synagogue, saying the Shabbat evening prayers (Kabbalat Shabbat). I was checking the house, making sure all the lights were set, the thermostat was at a reasonable temperature, the ceiling fans were on and our meal was ready. Then, with everything in order, I’d light the Shabbat candles.

A noisy truck came down the street. “It must be Fed-Ex,” I thought, as their trucks are very loud. But glancing out the front window, I saw flashing lights—a fire truck. Not only that, the truck stopped between our house and the next-door neighbor’s.

“What in the world?” I wondered. “Does our neighbor have a fire?”

Three firemen exited the truck. One was holding a roll of “do not cross” yellow police tape. He and his comrades casually walked between our houses to the backyard.

I quickly ran to our bedroom, which faces the back. Nosy me opened a window and asked, “What’s going on?”

“There’s smoke coming out of your capacitator (i.e., transformer) and we have to put up the tape so no one goes back here. It’s too dangerous.”

The transformer is a large, round metal cylinder “doo hickey” that rests on the very top of telephone poles. This one provides electricity to about 12-14 neighboring houses.

Wait and see

“Oh,” I replied, shutting the window. Time to go outside to better see what they were doing. Soon, the next-door neighbor poked her head out and asked what was going on. I told her what the one fireman said. As we were chatting in the front yard, the three firemen walked towards us. They explained that the unit was smoking. But, as the issue was electrical, there was nothing they could do. The transformer was probably overheating, hence the smoke. They told us they were calling Baltimore Gas & Electric (BGE) and would hang around until BGE confirmed that a truck was on its way. The fireman who called it in to the utility told us BGE would come around 8:10 p.m.

They left when BGE confirmed its arrival. We were told to call if anything changed.

Both the neighbor and I went back inside our respective homes. “Of course,” I thought. “This stuff always happens on Shabbat.” Something made me move the Shabbat candles from their corner in the dining room into the kitchen. If we had a power outage, we’d have some light.

Bye bye power

I lit the Shabbat candles, said the blessings, got comfortable on the sofa and began to read. That’s when the lights started flickering on and off. “Uh-oh. This isn’t good.” Then, a loud pop. And yes, the power went out.

Once again, I went to our bedroom to look outside. My immediate reaction was one of panic. The transformer was sending out huge sparks, some of which landed in our yard! Many more landed in a neighbor’s yard. OMG!!

Running down the hallway, I grabbed my cell phone, which was turned off for Shabbat. That’s when I heard a knock on a dining room window. A face I didn’t recognize (a neighbor I didn’t know) yelled through the glass, “Your house is on fire! Get out!” The transformer had stopped sparking and now was on fire! It happened that quickly, in a matter of seconds.

Cell phone in hand and heart pounding, I ran outside. Getting through to 911 seemed to take forever. Finally, an operator. I shouted into the phone, “There’s a fire in my yard. The fire department needs to come now!”

As a crowd of more neighbors gathered around, the 911 operator asked a million questions: Where is the fire? What direction is it going (huh?)? Is anyone in the house? Is anyone in immediate danger? “Just get the damn firemen here,” I wanted to scream.

And it was so hot standing outside.

Here they come again

We have a rather large maple tree in the back yard, and from where I was standing on the front sidewalk, it appeared as if the tree was on fire. The pole and the tree are actually about 10 feet apart, but I didn’t know that. The tree was not burning, thank goodness.

The crowd of neighbors grew. The ones across the street had power; lucky them. The outage affected our side of the block, the houses around the corner and the houses behind us.

I was still in panic mode. “Where are the blank-blank firemen? They sure are taking their time. It isn’t their house on fire!” I didn’t say that out loud but some of the neighbors did.

Finally, they came, the same truck, the same three fellows. It seemed like forever until they got out of the truck. Then, they leisurely left the truck (aren’t they supposed to rush?), taking their time. Again, they repeated, “Since it is an electrical fire, we can’t do anything.” I thought they’d at least take out a hose just in case.

As we all stood around, watching and chatting, it was block party time! One neighbor went back home and returned with homemade chocolate chip cookies. Ironically, I ate one with a burned bottom. Yum. A neighbor down the street I had never met introduced herself, and said I was welcome to come to her house. Another neighbor was explaining the laws of Shabbat to the firemen. Little kids were enthralled at the commotion and truck.

Meanwhile, the “men,” – my husband and most of the other fellows living on the block – were still at synagogue services and had no idea what was going on. They daven (pray) in someone’s basement, across the street, four doors down. They came home around 7:55 p.m.

Help is here!

Around 8:00 p.m., I saw a BGE truck drive past our street. Didn’t they have the correct address? Eventually, maybe five minutes later, the truck pulled up behind the fire truck. The BGE fellows conferred with the firemen, who then gladly left, probably going back to their poker game at the station. We were told that more BGE crews with equipment were on their way.

At that point, it was still blazing hot and there was nothing to do. Therefore, Ken and I went inside our house. The sun was quickly setting, and the only light inside came from the two candlesticks in the kitchen. Is this how Abraham Lincoln lived in his log cabin? How could he see to read? At least it was cooler (still) inside than outside. I told Ken that if the power was still out at 1:00 a.m., I was going to eat the ice cream in the freezer.

He went downstairs “to chill” in a La-Z-Boy chair. I parked myself on the den couch. That’s when we both noticed the lightning. Oh no! Yes, the other BGE crew was here, but there was no way those guys would climb a pole in a storm. The lightning was fierce, with huge, zigzagging bolts streaking down from the clouds. It was going to be a long, hot night.

The lower level in our house is about 10 degrees cooler than upstairs, so I ventured down the unlit basement steps, praying I wouldn’t trip or misstep. As my eyes adjusted to this additional darkness, I carefully made my way to bedroom number four. The queen bed in this room is quite comfy. Maybe I would try to get some sleep. Ken was lightly snoring in the room with the La-Z-Boy.

Sleep didn’t come. Instead, I tossed and turned. It was also creepy down there. Even with two windows, the bedroom was pitch black and oh so quiet. After 20 minutes, I gave up and cautiously crossed the inky-black basement to where Ken was. It was about 9:30 p.m.

He was awake and said, “There’s a truck out there, in the back.” Hooray! As fast as one can in the dark, I ventured upstairs to our bedroom. Yes! Fellows with flashlights were outside! I opened the window, and a lineman whose face was obscured due to the dark asked, “Yes?”

“How’s it going?” I asked.

“We’re replacing the transformer. We’ll get you up and running as soon as we can,” he replied. “Do you mind if we bring a truck onto your property?”

“Absolutely not! Do what you gotta do, mister! Thank you!”

Sleep was out of the question, so I watched them work. A large, maybe 15-foot bucket truck was parked in the yard behind us. Someone was in the bucket replacing the transformer. The leaves of the maple tree blocked my view of him, but I could see the light emanating from his flashlight.

And then there was light

And then, magic. The neighbors’ outside spotlights lit up. A split second later, our lights went on! And the air-conditioner purred. The ceiling fan blades whirled. Hooray for BGE! Their work was done, and it was only 10:30 p.m.!

I don’t think our house was in much danger. But in the morning, when we went into the back yard to see the damage, we noticed a burnt bush on our property had scorched the neighbor’s fence. Thank goodness, no one suffered any severe damage.

And, concerning that ice cream, I ate it Saturday night.

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Read more by Eileen Creeger.