The Great Chimney Fire

By Roy Edwards

 

Although this story happened about 58 years ago, in my mind, I can still see everything that happened that chilly day. Grandpa Ruffo had about 700 acres in Anderson County, about half way between Palestine and Tennessee Colony, Texas. I was a city boy. The farm had always been the closest place to Heaven I had ever been to. There were pastures with Quail and Doves, wooded areas with snakes and rabbits, creeks full of small – but eagerly cooperating – fish, and springs with glass clear water that was so cold that a single sip could make your teeth hurt. Food was everywhere. Grandpa raised sweet corn, field corn, watermelons, persimmons, peas, beans, potatoes, peanuts and grapes. Grandpa also raised cattle, pigs and chickens – but he wouldn’t let us put any of them in a gunny sack. If you were going to spend the day in the fields, you took a gunny sack and a salt shaker with you. Then, you and your cousins picked as much of everything you wanted, put it in the sack with a big rock and sunk it in one of the springs. In about 4 hours, the feast would be ready. Even raw vegetables taste good at 32 ½ degrees F – with a little salt. 

 

Grandpa Ruffo’s house sat on top of a hill, overlooking about half of his land. I really don’t know how big the house was, but, to me, it was just smaller than the average football stadium. Down the east side, the first room was the adults’ bedroom with its six double beds. Then, the bathroom, Grandpa and Grandma’s bedroom (off limits to anyone under 30), the guest bedroom, and a big screened in porch with drop canvas walls that all the kids loved. I never saw anyone sleep in the guest bedroom.  I don’t know what it took to be a “guest”, but no one I know of ever qualified.

 

Out front were four Sycamore trees that Grandpa Ruffo planted the year he built the house. When planted, Grandma Ruby could touch the top of each tree. Grandma Ruby was 4 foot 10 inches – in all directions. Now, they were the biggest trees in the known world. They were so big that the cousins were never able to build a ladder tall enough to reach the first limbs – so the trees were never climbed. That was OK, though, because the crowns disappeared into the clouds.

 

The west side of the house was the living room, the dining room, and the kitchen. No wall separated the dining room from the kitchen. That way, the rooms could contract and expand as needed.

 

The living room belonged to Grandpa Ruffo. There were book cases, chairs, couches, etc. The first focal point of the room was the native stone fireplace. About 10 feet back and slightly to the right was the second focal point – Ruffo’s chair. This chair was high backed, handmade, cushioned rocking chair passed down to Ruffo by his father. Once you were too big to sit on Grandpa’s lap, the chair was off limits. Any cousin that touched, ran into, bumped, or otherwise came into contact with the chair might as well sit down in the middle of the floor and start writing out his last will and testament. No appeal. No pardon. No parole - just the certainty of a slow and horrible death.

 

The kitchen belonged to Grandma Ruby. The center of her world was a cast iron, wood burning stove – fed exclusively with Red Oak. There were 8 burners (pots and pans locations), across the top, a grill on the right side and two full sized ovens below. At full operation, it looked and sounded like Thor’s forge. You did not have to tell small children to stay back from this smoke belching monster. There wasn’t anything that Ruby could not cook on that stove and the worst thing that ever came off its burners filled you like manna from Heaven and tasted like ambrosia of the Gods.

 

The dining room was neutral ground frequented by all. It was like eating in a happy monastery. No arguments.  All antagonists were driven from the table by “the look” from Ruby or Ruffo. The loudest sound at the table was laughter. Smiles illuminated the room.

 

Ruffo and Ruby had eight children live to adulthood – as well as 2 adopted orphans. During the holidays, all the aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, extended family and a few hangers on, would show up. I still don’t know how many people would be in that house on the hill. I couldn’t count that high and it didn’t make any difference anyway.

 

It happened after Thanksgiving Dinner. Ruffo was semi-napping in the chair. The men folk were spread across the front lawn under the Sycamore trees. They were smoking and solving the problems of the world. Ruby and all the women were cleaning the table, the stove, and the dishes. Ruby stood back from all the action and orchestrated everything. Andre Previn, with a wooden basting spoon.

 

It wasn’t cold. I doubt that the temperature was below 68 degrees or so. But, the cousins wanted a fire in the fire place. The oldest two waited until Ruffo opened one eye and respectfully began to plead our cause – a fire. Ruffo finally gave in with the warning, “Keep it small”.

 

Under the leadership of the two oldest cousins, we began. To build a fire in that fireplace, you needed starter logs, builder logs, small limbs, twigs kindling and fans. The older ones among us will remember the fans. When you went to church, or to a funeral, you were given one. It consisted of a wooden handle that looked like an over sized tongue depressor stapled to about an 8 inch by 8 inch stiff piece of card board. On the front was a religious scene. On the back was an admonishment to tithe to the church or an advertisement for the funeral home to use when a loved one departed. You used these to “fan the flames”. This was better than blowing on the kindling because you got to keep your eyebrows and didn’t get a face full of ashes.

 

We started out small enough, got a nice fire going, and a nod of approval from Grandpa. Then a funny thing started to happen. The fire kept getting bigger and hotter - seems that every time Grandpa closed his eyes to remember the turkey and giblet gravy, a builder log or two would come from nowhere and drop onto the now roaring fire. Grandpa had even slipped his chair back a couple of feet. A few more logs, and then it happened.

 

Somebody had tied the tail of a 747 to the top of the house and fire walled all the throttles. A thousand wailing Irish Banshees screaming at the top of their lungs could not have made a more horrific sound. It was a noise that would blow your mind as well as your ear drums. As the tars and creosotes got hot enough, they spontaneously combusted. The chimney was 4 feet square by 22 feet tall. The chimney had become an un-muffled 4 foot square by 22 feet tall jet engine.

 

For about 5 seconds, no one moved or said a word. Grandpa Ruffo opened one eye. Books were falling off of shelves. Several of Grandma Ruby’s hand made doilies came off the couch and started toward the fireplace. Suddenly, everything that was not nailed down headed toward the screaming red maw of the monster fireplace. Other things started to move. Three of the cousins simply “blinked” out. Everyone has known at least one kid capable of this. When he gets in trouble, he instantly disappears – but you never see him move. It’s like being transported on Star Trek – only about 100 times faster and no confetti left behind.  Grandpa opened the other eye.

 

Here come the adults! What the --------- have you kids done now? A couple of cousins peed on themselves; one peed on the cousin next to him. I never have figured out how that happened. By now, the noise of the adults and kids was almost as loud as the red monster. I looked up as my dad came into the room. You’ve seen those traveling signs where the lettering runs from right to left and then disappears. Traveling across my dad’s face were the words, “I brought you into this world and now I am going to take you out”. But the words did not disappear – they built up along his chin. You could read them three days later.

 

Grandpa Ruffo had not moved. He sat in “his chair” slowly looking from side to side with a slight grin on his face.

 

Now, every older man as his own “chair” and invariably, it has full length arms. Watch an older man get up. He does not jump out of “his chair”. He will place his palm solidly on the top of the arm and fold his fingers under the arm. His knuckles will then take on a whitish color and he will use his arms to help leverage himself out of the chair. He knows that his hip sockets only contain so many more lifts.

 

I saw his knuckles whiten and Ruffo started up out of “his chair”. He slowly walked into the dining room, reached to the center of the table and picked up the ever present 1 pound card board container of Morton’s Salt and slowly walked back into the living room. You remember Morton’s Salt and the picture of that little girl with the umbrella standing in the rain? The logo on the box read, “When it rains, it pours”. Well, Ruffo poured a hand full of salt in his right hand and threw the hand full of salt at the top of the flames in the maw of the red roaring monster.

 

Instant silence.

 

That’s right, instant silence. The great chimney fire was out. Everybody stared at Ruffo who, by now had handed the salt to one of the kids and was settling back into “his chair” as if nothing had happened. All the cousins disappeared to Never-Never Land where there were no adults. No one reappeared until supper when we all snuck back into the dining room where Grandma Ruby’s “no antagonism” rule was considered the law. We all got a temporary stay from the unspeakable.

 

Looking back, I am still amazed at what perfect calm, knowledge and a hand full of salt can do.