A New Perspective

I’ve always been an outdoors kind of person.  Maybe because I grew up in a crowded project apartment with too many people and not enough space to even breathe sometimes.  I relished going outside even if it was just to walk the neighborhood with no real destination in mind. Perhaps it’s because I gravitate towards natural light – sunshine, clouds, rain, even snow is a welcome sight for me. Each and every apartment I moved to after I left Brooklyn, had a balcony or backyard or someplace where I could be outside in a protective space.

I also discovered that I enjoyed barbecuing or at least cooking on a grill. It was nothing to find me grilling with my winter coat and boots – just because.  So, when I tell you my grilling days are over, I’m sure I’d get the side eye from those who know me.  It’s just sometimes in life things happen that change your whole perspective of things. There are some of you that know this story as I have gone over and over it in mind, and out loud (I’m sure much to many times) since that day, but please indulge me one more time strictly for cathartic reasons.

It was a nice warm evening and I decided that I wanted to have a very simple, but healthy dinner. It was just me at home. I had already made a nice salad and I decided that I would grill a chicken breast. I seasoned it to perfection and proceeded to go out on the deck to turn on the grill.  Some years earlier my son convinced me to get a gas grill rather than to deal with charcoal and lighter fluid. We had just gotten a replacement propane tank.  Once I turned it on, I heard a hissing sound, so I immediately tightened up the connection and turned up the flame slightly.  I seemed that the flame wasn’t as high as it should have been, so I turned it up some more and went back into the house.  All of a sudden I heard a sound that sounded like whoosh and I looked outside to see flames shooting up at least 3 feet in the air. Without giving it a second thought, I ran outside to see how I could stop this seemingly uncontrollable fire. I reached down under the grill where the connection to the grill from the propane tank was in an effort to turn off the valve, but the valve was soooo hot that I scorched my hand. I ran back in the house and got a potholder. Meanwhile the flames were encompassing the entire grill by this time.  I said a quick prayer and reached my hand once again under the grill to the valve and turned it off and ran back into the house. My heart was beating so hard and my hands were shaking so much as I grabbed my phone to dial 911. The operator on the other line proceeded to ask me a series of questions. But mainly she kept telling me to get out of the house. Meanwhile I couldn’t bring myself to go outside. I checked one last time and it seemed that the flames were subsiding. I then grabbed an ice cube from the freezer and ran outside to wait for the fire department.  By the time they arrived, the flames were out but my hand felt like it was indeed being barbecued.  The pain was excruciating!! Once the fire department got there, the fireman asked if I wanted him to call the paramedics but I declined. He examined my hand and determined that I had first degree burns. He told me that sometimes those hurt worse than more serious burns and I should continue to put cold water and/or ice. By this time I was more embarrassed than anything else.  All my neighbors were out in the street inquiring as to how I was and what happened.

The fireman was so kind to me. He made sure everything was ok with the grill and admonished me to never put a grill on a wood deck.  He said I was fortunate that the fire stayed localized. Honestly that’s all I could think about when I saw the flames shooting up. Evidently the grease from the chicken had dripped down onto the propane tank and sparked the fire. I had to try to contain the fire somehow. I knew that if I cut off the source that that would be my only chance of saving the house. Meanwhile, some miles away, my daughter, Nayda, got word from someone that the fire trucks were on the block and possibly at her house, so naturally when she came in, she asked “mommy, were the fire trucks here?” All I could say was “Wow, news surely travels fast!!”  It was that incident that changed my whole perspective of grilling. Fortunately, things worked out fine and within about a week, my hand had almost fully recovered. As for my spirit, well that’s going to take some time. That happened almost two years ago now and believe me I haven’t so much as touched a grill since then. In fact, just recently on one of my trips to the Salvation Army, I found a brand new George Foreman grill (still in  the original box) for a whopping $5.99, I quickly purchased it, brought it home, set it up on the kitchen counter where I can just look at it. You see, I have to admit, as ridiculous as it sounds, I’m a little afraid to use it!