Fire

I’m sitting alone in our family room on Saturday night. I’m actually writing this now, but you won’t read it until Monday. The stereo is set to the Smooth Jazz station, playing softly. Chris, Tommy and MBW are all upstairs, sound asleep. My Old Friend is dozing comfortably on the sofa next to me. Outside, the first snowfall of the season is underway.



With that, the first fire of the season has been lit in the fireplace.

Growing up in upstate New York, where winters are long, cold and snowy, I grew to appreciate the feel of a wood-burning fire. The heat, the crackle of the wood, the ambiance it creates, is something special to me. Watching my dad build and tend the fire, letting me help him carry in the wood, letting me hold the long match to light the paper under the wood. Great memories.

The fireplace we have in our house today resembles, in some fashion, the fireplace we had those many years ago. Slate-gray stone, floor-to ceiling, a dominant feature of the room. I love to sit in this room, near this fireplace, on winter evenings and relax, read a book or catch up on some correspondence. The atmosphere is conducive to relaxation and contemplation.

It was with this specific evening in mind that my brother-in-law and I spent a Saturday two months ago driving to the wilds of Wyoming to cut a load of firewood. Three hours each way, over roads growing progressively less passable, his well-worn pick-up truck and my Burbus Maximus, towing my trusty utility trailer, bounced and bumped our way well into the national forest. Finally arriving in a thick stand of lodgepole pine, we spent five hours felling trees and cutting them up into logs. Chainsaws buzzing, we felled four tall lodgepole pine trees and cut them into logs for splitting. If you’ve never felled a 40-foot tree in the forest, it’s a tremendous experience. The crack of the wood as the trunk gives way, the crashing sounds as it falls through the canopy, the thud as it hits the forest floor – much more powerful in real life than on television (most things are, actually).

We each ended up with well over a cord of wood apiece, in thick, 18-inch-long logs, which we loaded into his truck and my trailer and hauled back home. It was a great way to spend a fall Saturday.

Anyway, earlier today we took the boys to see the move ‘Santa vs. the Snowman’ in 3-D at the local IMAX theatre. Chris and Tommy loved it. Tommy in particular was enthralled with the 3-D. He kept reaching out to touch the things from the film that appeared to float right in front of his face.

On the ride home from the movie the snow began to fall.

As we pulled up in the driveway I said to the boys, “Should we make a fire tonight?”

“Yes!” was the resounding, enthusiastic reply.

Chris and Tommy helped carry in the wood. They helped crumple up the paper. They each got a turn holding the long match that lights the fire.

We spent the evening in the family room, fire burning in the fireplace, playing silly games and laughing. Not board games or card games, but silly, nonsensical games with no rules, no winners and no losers. I can’t even describe them, these games we played, but we all had fun.

After putting the boys to bed, I turned on the Smooth Jazz. MBW and I shared a bottle of wine. Sitting close together on the sofa, we silently enjoyed the moment – the fun day with our kids, the relaxing Thanksgiving weekend we’ve had, the feeling of snuggling close on a cold night, snow falling, in front of a fire. It was wonderful.

She asked me if I thought the fire burned better because I had cut the wood myself. Of course, I told her. I selected the very best trees, cut them with care, split the logs into perfectly sized pieces. This, I told her, is the best fire in the United States.

With the wine nearly gone, the fire began to burn low about the same time the other fire began to burn hot. I succumbed to the moment and let MBW have her way with me.

Something about that a man who fells his own trees and brings home his own firewood, I guess.

Now she has joined our sons in slumber. Soon I shall join them as well.

But not before I enjoy this moment of reflection.

My father, unknowingly, passed on something to me during those long upstate New York winters. The building of a fire, the feeling it creates, the memories embedded in the mind of a young boy.

I hope that I will create these same feelings in Chris and Tommy, that one day they may build a fire for their family and share what we shared tonight. That one day in the future they may sit quietly, and the end of a wonderful day, and realize how fortunate they are.

There’s nothing like a warm fire on a cold, snowy winter evening.

It’s great to be The Family Man.