A big problem needs a big person

When I was 4 or 5, we lived in a civilianized army mustering point in Great Bend, Kansas after Dad returned from the war. That development existed during WWII for those with dependents before shipping out to basic training points. It had rows of 5 apartments circled around a small convenience/grocery store. Our row was immediately adjacent (barely 15 feet or so) from a couple of sections planted in wheat.

Our back yard was a mixture of weeds and scrub grass, and in late August was so dry the weeds would break off if they were stepped on. For some reason only the mind of a child can understand, the kitchen matches Mom had left behind after lighting the cook stove to begin the evening meal, and just before a neighbor called her over on some adult matter, whispered my name. I responded with an enthusiastic “Here I am,” and proceeded into the back yard to experiment with my new treasure.

After lighting several, I noticed that a small dollar bill size area of dead grass was burning. Smiling to myself at the thought that I not only got to light something afire, I got to put it out, I went into the apartment, retrieved a small can from the garbage, and filling it full from the faucet returned to douse the fire only to learn that the fire had grown, and the can held only enough water to douse half of it. Hurrying back to the faucet, I filled the can and again attempted to extinguish a fire which was now the size our bathtub.

At which point, my returning mother, looking over my shoulder at what had become a catastrophe in the making, turned and grabbed a blanket covering our sofa, and smote that demon fire until it surrendered meekly to mere smoke.

I learned that a big problem needs a big person to deal with it, and small people can make big problems out of small ones in a hurry. Mom (big person) appeared on the scene at the right time. Earlier, I wouldn’t have learned the lesson. Later...