Ashley Danielle Babin #3
November 26, 2000
Burning Night
Fire! Quick! Run! Out of the house now!
For weeks that was all I could remember from the fire that destroyed my life. My father shouted these words once and only once and it was the last time I ever heard his voice.
It happened during the Great Depression. My family and I lived in New York. Our house was a one-room shack wedged between two dinghy boarding houses.
My two sisters, my brother, my father and I all lived in this one-roomed box that I was to call home.
My father did many odd jobs in attempts to bring our family above the poverty line. My family came from Ireland in the 1890's. There were many hardships in Ireland at the time. My Grandfather thought it would be best to leave and go to America. He had little money so at first only my Grandfather went. He worked in a factory and saved up enough money to have my Grandmother and my father come over to the promise land.
My Grandmother died soon after she arrived in America. My father was then old enough to work. Together my Grandfather and my father tried to earn enough money. When my father was sixteen he was married to my mother. My mother died in childbirth of my little brother Jonathan. My Grandfather decided to live in a boarding house when my father was married. My father never contacted him and even I did not ever see him. I don't know why my father did this. Perhaps he blamed my Grandfather for all of our money troubles. I don't know.
My Grandfather sent letters all the time. My father never responded. About a year ago we received notice that my Grandfather had died on November 30, 1932. I believe he had died of a lonely broken heart.
I took care of my two sisters and my little brother Jonathan during the day. We played simple games such as catch with a household item. When my sister Bridgett turned twelve she began to take care of the children and I started to work at odd jobs. Life was hard because many people were searching for work. The pay was very little for all the work I did.
Every morning I awoke at the crack of dawn. I heated the stove and then I aroused my father from his slumber. I would boil hot water for us, and we would drink it because we didn't have any coffee. Then he would leave for work whatever that might be. I was then left to heat food for my sister Bridgett, my sister Sophia, and my brother Jonathan. We would normally have leftover scraps from the night before. While our food boils I awaken my siblings. Commotion broke out when my siblings were awake. If you walked by our house you would think a bunch of monkeys were destroying our house. I was able to keep them under control even though they were incredibly noisy.
When everyone was awake my sister Bridgett took over and I left the house for work, what ever that might be. My father and I came home everyday before sun down because after dark thieves owned the streets. My father and I normally brought food home for dinner. We used part of the money we earned that day we normally bought a roll of bread. Everyday was like this. We always followed the same routine.
The fire happened on a night just like any other. We all went to bed early except my father. He had some "work" to finish up. My father fell asleep soon after we had. The fire we had lit started to die down and then a single spark flew.
It is sad to think that a single spark caused the death of my father yet it did. My father woke up suddenly and shouted the warning. I led my sisters and my brother out of the house safely. I waited a while for my father but he did not appear. I ran back inside and searched for my father, but alas I couldn't find him in the heavy smoke. Soon the smoke became unbearably heavy and I had to leave my father behind.
The fire may have destroyed my father yet I remember him in all I do. I see him in me, making me strong, proud, and loyal. My father's soul lives forever and partly in me. He has taught me so many things I just wish he could have taught me more. I love you forever father.