Opinion : If Smokey the Bear had elves, they'd camp in our backyard

Dear Smokey the Bear,

I raised them right.

I told them NOT to play with matches.

We explained clearly WHY the metal hanger should NOT go in the microwave.

We taught them never and I mean NEVER to mix gasoline with a spark.

"So WHY are the fire departments from two neighboring departments at my house?"

"AGAIN?"

"For the second time?" you ask.

As I told the neighbor that called, it's HER cousin that started it.

I did my best.

I raised 6 very intelligent children. One is in the investment field, of course we do have one in the jail and one in drugs, (don't panic, they work in those fields) and one that's a staunch Republican, and one that cares for the elderly so overall I think I did a very FINE job, thank you.

Back to the Fire Departments you ask, oh yes, the neighbor's cousin, as he shall be lovingly referred to for articles like this, is part Indian, at least that's what we've heard from his mother. When this time of the year hits, the Indian in him comes out.

When he isn't dancing through the livingroom saying, "Hey, how are ya, hey how are ya..." he heads outside.

"I go. I make fire." he says while donning his feathery headdress and heading out the door.

Soon the leaves and the twigs are popping and the smell of freshly burning leaves and twigs are in the air. It almost makes we want to pull out the bag of jumbo marshmallows from the cupboard and get out the hot dogs.

That thought was quickly interrupted by the look of the white smoke that was no longer billowing from the ground.

Today tt had turned to black, the thick, air choking kind.

I step onto the deck.

I locate the neighbors cousin who is now frantically trying to make the hose reach the fire...

"Have we learned anything?" I ask.

"White man spirits have hidden black moons in earth. Mother Earth not happy."

"Neither is the mother of your neighbor's cousin's children...not to mention the neighbor," I mumble as I went back in the house and called 911.

"911 what is the address of your emergency?" the kind lady asks.

I tell her.

"What's the emergency?" she asks.

I explain that the neighbor's cousin has been burning leaves and caught some tires on fire.

Apparently, the neighbor's cousin's family thought at some point they would get some rubber trees by planting tire seeds. So in Indian lingo, "when red man makes hot fire, white man's tires start to burn, disturbing ancient burial grounds."

"Wait a minute," the kind dispatch lady says, "I think we have another call about this. Is the house in danger?"

"No," I reply, (thinking the neighbors can't be THAT lucky)

"It's a slow news day, these things tend to happen on days like this." I tell her.

Again, our dear, dear, dear fire department fire fighting guys, a heartfelt appreciation for once again coming to visit.

And as the neighbor said, in the kindest manner, and it sounds like something my dad would say in a moment of exasperation, "Dean needs to move back to town."

It's on nights like this I swear the neighbors are having a clandestine meeting to start a petition to that effect...and I don't blame them.

So anyway, Smokey the Bear, do you offer summer classes? I know a man, more white than Indian who could use some lessons on fire prevention.

Sincerely,

The Neighbor's Cousin's Wife