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I nearly drowned in Lexington Reservoir when I was 11 years old—my mother’s cousin Kathie saved me.
That same summer my mother was driving our big honkin’ 1960 Ford station-wagon with me and my five siblings in the car with her down a narrow place on a winding mountain road where a few people from the Department of Public Works were filling winter rain puddle holes with gravel when her brakes went out and she had to scrape the side of the mountain to slow and eventually stop the car.
Forty or so years later, I was feeling poorly and so was taking a nap with my kitty girl Vera when I suddenly heard people running into the courtyard of the apartment building that I lived in, which turned out to be firefighter running into the building shouting “Get Out, Get Out, Get Out.” I grabbed my cat Vera, tossed her into the bathroom, found her carrier, put her in it, and ran out of my apartment without my keys, my wallet, a jacket or sweatshirt, and sat on the sidewalk across the street as people stood and gawked at the building like it was a festive occasion. The fire had been on the roof RIGHT ABOVE MY APARTMENT, so my place was completely trashed. The firefighters had to pull down part of my kitchen ceiling to make sure the smoldering briquettes hadn’t fallen into the crawl space and would later spring to life and everything smelled like smoke. I highly, highly, highly recommend to anyone who rents GET RENTERS INSURANCE, and be happy if you never have to use it.
