Photo by Bill Stokes
By Bill Stokes
Kickass, the doorstop dog, reports the keeper up early as the big red fire engine and its accompanying ambulance came rolling out of the dregs of night as quietly as stalking predators—no sirens screaming over the deserted streets, and red lights flashing only for arrival.
The dark forms of the EMT crews with stretcher and work kits in hand disappearing inside the building and then moments later emerging with a covered burden to be installed in the emergency vehicle where obviously no sense of urgency prevailed as it sat with idling engine for long moments.
The vehicles departed finally, as quietly as they had arrived, and the keeper was left with a heavy burden of curiosity—Who? Someone he knew? What happened? Has grieving started and can he and Phyllis share some of it with the survivors?
So, Dylan, it seems as if someone may have gone “gently into that good night,” but rest assured their passage was preceded by “Fight! Fight! Fight!” as you suggest.
It is the way of life in every community, especially in those where seniors assemble to avoid mowing a lawn or shoveling snow as they “Fight! Fight! Fight!”
