Firebug!

By Gary White

When I was six or seven years old I was given a bunch of waterproof matches. They must have been “war surplus” because I remember also being given either K or C rations. Remember K rations? I just checked into them and did you know that the K rations were manufactured by the makers of Cracker Jack? Interesting.

Anyway, these fireproof matches could be soaked in water and they would light just as if they were dry. To my seven year old mind that was miraculous. I was showing one of my friends, perhaps Donna Burch, how these matches worked. We were playing at a ditch near our house and I was dipping a match into the water in the ditch and then lighting it. I hit upon the idea of burning a little of the dry grass nearby, just to see what would happen. Well, the grass took off burning and I couldn’t stop it. I ran home and my mother called the fire department to come and put out the blaze.

I felt sure that I would never be able to show my face in Cedar Vale after such a crime. Embarrassment kept me at home for most of a day. When I finally went out with my dad to Clarence Marshall’s service station I was greeted with, “There’s the firebug!” The fire in the grass was nothing to the fire on my face. After that I became known as “firebug” for what seemed like a long time. Finally the joke played itself out and I wasn’t reminded any more of my transgression. However, I never forgot the lesson about fire that I learned that day.