Life on Argon Street Part 9

Current mood: nostalgic




Burning Down the House



Cue Music



Watch out


You might get what you're after


Cool babies


Strange but not a stranger


I'm an ordinary guy


Burning down the house






Hold tight wait till the party's over


Hold tight we're in for nasty weather


There has got to be a way


Burning down the house






Here's your ticket pack your bag: time for jumpin' overboard


The transportation is here


Close enough but not too far, maybe you know where you are


Fightin' fire with fire






All wet


Hey you might need a raincoat


Shakedown


Dreams walking in broad daylight


Three hun-dred six-ty five de-grees


Burning down the house






It was once upon a place sometimes I listen to myself


Gonna come in first place


People on their way to work baby what did you except


Gonna burst into flame






My house


'Sout of the ordinary


That's might


Don't want to hurt nobody


Some things sure can sweep me off my feet


Burning down the house






No visible means of support and you have not seen nuthin' yet


Everything's stuck together


I don't know what you expect staring into the TV set


Fighting fire with fire




I always enjoyed "Talking Heads" back then. I just never realized how big an impact one of their songs would have on our lives during our tenure at the Argon house.

New Years Eve 1996. Another day like any other in our life. Usually Cathy and I would spend the evening at home with our kids, celebrating the New Year together, instead of hiring a babysitter and making it a night on the town. I was hesitant to leave our kids with sitters in the neighborhood anymore, ever since we used to leave Lori and Danny to the "Tender Mercies" of a teenaged neighborhood girl (Henceforth referred to as "The Creature"…) The stories that the kids would tell years down the line about the abuses they tolerated at her hands horrified me. I will address the tales of The Creature in a future blog.

This year would be different. My sister, JoJo, would call and suggest that the family come to her place and celebrate the new year together with her and Mom. We were due to come over for dinner with them on New Year's Day anyway, so the thought of an impromptu party at their place the night before sounded like fun. We'd drink Adult Soda Pop (Wine Coolers) Pop popcorn and play board games while we waited for Dick Clark to do his thing in New York City. It sounded like a good time for all (And I realize it probably sounds like a regular snore fest for most of my readers…I'm a man of simple pleasures who is easily amused. I love spending time with friends and family members…) so the plan was made. We packed up some goods from our house and made plans to go to Mom's. Now, no matter how well I plan, you can count on me being in line at a grocery store the day before a holiday. In 28 years, I have yet to miss a Thanksgiving that didn't end up with me going out to obtain that one last thing we need for dinner to be complete. Usually cranberry sauce or whipping cream... New Year's Day dinner would be no exception.

New Year's Eve '96 came and went. The wine coolers were cold and delicious (blackberry….YUM!) The bagel bites crispy and cheesy, the popcorn salty and way over buttered (just the way I like it) and many rounds of Trivial Pursuit enjoyed as we all tried to impress one another with our wealth of useless knowledge and information. We opened many bottles of cold sparkling apple cider and toasted the New Year 1997. Then off to bed, for a wonderful dinner was in need of being made the next day. New Years dinner is not quite the affair that Thanksgiving is in the Gervasio household, but we are a clan that loooooves to eat good food. Any casual inspection of our collective waistlines will attest to this fact.

We arose much earlier than we normally would on January 1, 1997, especially considering how late we had all been up the evening prior. Cat and I decided that we needed to obtain a few things from our house for dinner, and perhaps a VHS movie or two from our collection to watch that evening with mom and JJ. So we jumped into the van and headed back to the Argon house. We arrived around 1:00 pm. We went in and grabbed a couple of bottles of wine that we wanted with dinner and got the movies we wanted to watch. Some discussion was made about leaving the kids at the house while we ran over to Albertson's across the street. The kids wanted to play with some of their neighborhood friends, but I had a bad feeling about leaving them alone. In one of those rare moments when I actually listen to the inner voice in my head yelling "Danger Will Robinson!" I decide I don't want to leave the kids home alone. So I bribed them with an offer to stop at Blockbuster and rent a new game for the new Nintendo system Danny had just gotten for Christmas as well as a movie or two. The kids were totally on board with that idea, so we got back into the van and headed for Blockbusters and then off back to Grandma's house for a terrific afternoon dinner. We started laughing about what would eventually be our last night in the original Argon house. That last night going to bed on Jan. 30, all three kids somehow ended up in our King Size bed. They were bouncing and laughing together as Andrew (then 3 years of age) announced that he was concerned. He had just finished eating a Hershey's Chocolate bar for a bedtime snack (yeah, we're those kind of parents) and was upset because he had "Chokyit on his yip". Drew always had trouble saying his "L" words back then, and it was so cute, we all laughed 'til we cried. We finally got the kids settled down and tucked in for what would be one last fond memory of the original house on Argon.


New Years Day 1997; 2:35 pm.


We arrived back at Mom's place and jumped right into dinner prep. The honey glazed spiral cut goodness is bubbling away in the oven. Mom's legendary potato salad is made. (It just isn't a holiday without it.) I'm scrubbing fresh veggies at the sink in preparation for the finger salad tray. The pies are cooling on the washing machine out in the utility/wash room. The phone rings. Probably Lucy to wish us all a Happy New Year!


Cathy is the closest to the phone, and answers it. "Hello"… casual and cheery…"Yes…this is Cathy…" the pitch in her voice changes slightly and you can hear the focus intensify…red flag goes up in my mind…."Oh My God!" ... her volume has now tripled... "Tony! It's Debbie Pierce! Our house is on fire!"…


It's a Full Blown Crisis at Hand.


"Holy Shit." Thinks I.


Cathy is still on the phone, intently getting as much information as she can. Debbie says the house is on fire, but not to worry, the trucks are on their way.

Trucks. As in plural. As in my house is probably going to be a total loss. As in my comic books, including a full run on X-Men 1 to present day are going up in smoke as I'm dropping baby carrots in the sink. As my collection of Lionel and American Flyer post-war toy trains are being melted into unrecognizable lumps of bakelite and metal.

The household is in total uproar now. Mom is now in survival mode. I've only seen her like this a few times in our lives, most notably when Dad died. She's an incredible woman of strength and perseverance when the moment presents itself. I think it still surprises her. We Gervasio's seem to be wired that way. There will be plenty of time to fall apart after the crisis is over. We need to get back to the Argon house ASAP. The kids all want to come and watch our house burning. A decision to leave them at Mom's is quickly made as Cat and I jump into the van and head toward Argon. Mom lives in Old Town Tempe near ASU, so the best direct route in down Apache Blvd straight into Mesa. It's a 5 mile drive. Cathy and I are already starting to talk about what we're going to do. Is the insurance going to be enough? Has anyone been hurt? Is the fire centered in one small part of the house or has the whole thing gone up in smoke? What started the fire? I remember that I had left an AVON snowman decoration plugged in and on. Thoughts of losing everything I own to Frosty flit through my imagination.

I'm entering Apache Blvd in front of Grady Gammage Auditorium and look East. A thick black column of smoke is seen rising lazily in the distance. We are still over 4 miles away from home. "Look ahead, hon. That's us."


And Cathy begins to cry.