Eight superb fire trucks and a few moments for thought

Culture shock -

At 3:00 o'clock in the morning with the fire alarm clanging mercilessly in my ears and smoke detectors shrilling throughout an apartment complex housing more than 100 families, it took some effort to sort out my thoughts.

I threw the covers aside and stumbled to the door and looked out to see a man down the hall, his skin as brown as a walnut and his eyes the colour of obsidian, peering through a crack in the door. Was there a fire?

Hastily, I got dressed and grabbed my purse. Outside, the ground was snow-covered and crisp with ice. I slipped and slid around the complex and saw no smoke and no fire but almost every light in the building was on. I dialled 911 and reported the fire alarm and in less than five minutes I heard sirens and eight superb fire trucks wheeled around the corner and turned into our street, sirens wailing and lights flashing red-and-white. Being awakened in the night by clanging alarm bells was frightening, but being serenaded by eight fire trucks wailing and flashing more than compensated.

Firemen in yellow rubber clothes and what looked like matching Cape Ann hats, jumped out of fluorescent green trucks, lugging heavy equipment over their shoulders and packing oxygen tanks on their backs. Into the building they went, muscling their way through glass doors and fanning out in all directions while residents stood outside, most in pyjamas, shivering, smoking and talking. Most people didn't think there was a fire, some said it was fairly common for the alarm to go off in the night, but in my opinion it was better to be safe than sorry.

It wasn't hard to identify the Newfies; they were more talkative and friendly. A young man told me he had been born and raised in Brigus, that he'd worked in Fort McMurray, and recently had moved to Edmonton. Within five minutes he told me his girlfriend was warming up in their car, and I was welcome to join them if I liked. That's what set him apart as a 'down home' boy: city-dwellers will talk but they won't invite you in.

I met another down-homer recently at the Londonderry Mall. She was from St. John's and confided that in the two years since they'd moved here she'd been home eight times. I asked why she stayed here at all, and she said her boyfriend discovered there was more money to be made in Edmonton than in St. John's.

The North Saskatchewan River winds lazily through the city, flanked by deciduous and coniferous trees, but there is nothing lazy about the people who flood the streets, cram the malls, and rush by in cars along the main thoroughfares. Everything in Edmonton is done on a grand scale: it reminds me of a gold rush town where the lure of big money draws everybody into its vortex. The Gold Rush was marked by a "free for all" in income mobility; anyone might become abundantly wealthy almost instantly, aspiring to outdo the other guy in pursuit of a new and apparently highly lucrative market. But does a man's life consist in the abundance of the things he possesses?

Back home in Ship Cove, Len and our cat, Fiki, are keeping the home fires burning. Len is working at renovating the house and, although he's had a few episodes where things didn't turn out as well as he hoped, for the most part he's done a great job and there is that feeling of accomplishment that comes from creating something with your own hands. As the Christmas season advances, Len and I are making plans to be together, to visit friends and family and, yes, to do some shopping and gift-giving.

Sometimes it pays for the alarm bells to go off, so we can reflect on the true blessings of Christmas: it's not the size or the price of the gift that matters, but the love, the thought, and the family behind the gift that makes it special. And isn't it true that it is much easier to choose a gift for a person in need, than for the person who has everything in the way of worldly possessions?

Don't allow the panic and push of Christmas shopping to crowd out the simplicity and power of the Christmas message. The first Christmas family had very little, but it was the presence of God in the midst of the family that made the season special.

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men.