Fire in Stepford

Over Christmas, my mother and I started telling stories about me as a child.  I would tell what I remembered or my point of view and she would tell hers.  This story made us laugh and laugh and laugh.  It is also a very good example of my “Stepfordness.”

When I was in the 2nd or 3rd grade, my elementary school held a special assembly.  I don’t remember everything they talked about, but I do remember one particular part.   The local fire department started talking to us about what to do in case there was a fire.  Near the beginning of their presentation, they talked about fire statistics and said that most fires start in homes where people smoke.  Well, that caught my attention, since I did grow up in a home where people smoked.  My eyes were riveted on those firemen, I strained to listen, and I took copious notes in my brain about what they said.  Not to mention my heart was beating a million miles and hour while my brain was imagining burning to death in my sleep one night.

As I side note, I once asked my brother if he remembered this assembly and he shrugged and didn’t really remember it.  He is not from Stepford, like I am.  We are two polar opposites, yes we are.  But that is another blog post entirely.

One thing they talked about was making an escape plan as a family.  I immediately plotted all of my available exits.  We had 3 doors in/out of our house.  I thought I was safe.  But then the damn firemen asked what we would do if the fire was right outside our door or in our own room.  Just thinking about it now, 20 years later makes me want to cry.  Then they had a “room” set up on the stage and they showed us how to take off our windows and screens in case we needed to go out the window.  I distinctly remember them saying, “Even if your window is high up, jump out the window.  A broken bone hurts a lot less than being burned and is better than dying.” (Can you imagine what that did to my overactive imagination and anxiety?  What were they thinking?)

Like a good little girl, I went home and drew up a sketch of our house and had colored escape routes for all of us.  I had planned on showing my parents that night.  But then I started to worry.  What if I couldn’t open my screen?  What if it got stuck?  What if I burned to death in my bed!  So, I did what any logical Stepford would do . . . I decided I needed to test the screen myself.  I mean, there could be a fire any minute!  I do live with smokers!  I’m going to die!  Okay, I realize this was extreme, but hello, I was 8 or 9 years old.  Give me a break.  Anyways, back to the story.

I opened my window, but couldn’t lift it out.  Then I got really nervous.  I couldn’t reach the little latches on the screens, like the firemen showed us at school.  I panicked!  The anxiety overcame me!  And you know what I did?  I tried to pop out my screen – and I succeeded.  Just like any child of Stepford, when I set out to do something, I do it – 100%.  Then I decided that it was probably best that I didnt’ have a screen at all and I completely pushed it away from my window.  I felt much better.  Now I had a clear escape route in case of fire. I could finally breathe and I was so excited to show my parents the excape plan and how awesome I was for getting rid of the screen.

Mom and Dad didn’t quite agree with me.  And the school got an angry phone call from my mother.  I believe she let them know that she would like to know of future assemblies so that she could talk about them with me before hand.

I still maintain that I was just following the rules and the suggestions that the firemen gave me.  I am, after all, a child of Stepford and we follow the rules – even if I do have an overactive imagination.  Firemen also have the added weight of being in uniform, wearing badges, doing good for the people, that sort of thing.  I can’t help but do what they say.