Standing in the smoke and watching the flames rise and fall as dad put more leaves on the fire, not letting the flames get too high, we were mesmerized as kids. Racing to the backyard to get more before the fire's final flame died, we squealed with excitement in and out of the black shadows. Who can grab the most leaves was the game. Saturday evenings in October the entire town had tiny fires going. Some people had rusty steel barrels and poles for stirring them, others, like our family, raked the leaves to the street where passing cars would send glowing embers up into the night sky. Light from the full moon revealed more leaves for us to gather up. Few leaves escaped us kids, as long as dad was willing to stand there watching the fire, we found him more leaves. Even racing into the neighbors yard to collect a few. Being they were from our apple tree they were ours for the taking. Little did we know then, the neighbors were more than pleased at this.
Long past dark mom would call us in to wash up, to get the smell of smoke out of our hair and ready for Sunday mass. Boys in the basement washed up at the basement sink, spraying each other with the hose used for filling the washing machine. Then, wrapped in fresh clean towels, we raced up two flights of stairs to our bedroom where we dressed in pajamas. Once in our pajamas, with robes on, it was down to the kitchen for caramel toast from the oven and mom's hot chocolate.
Mom and dad love questioning us about what we learned that past week in school. We dipped our toast into the hot chocolate and listened to each other tell Mom and Dad what we were most proud of from school. Mom and dad would then tell us stories to further the importance of the things we had learned. While drying dishes, we listened to the radio till bedtime. The radio was strictly a Saturday treat. Weeknights and Sunday nights were for homework and reading.
