HEARTWARMING GAS IN THE HOUSE

Heartwarming gas keeps a happy home warm, until you smell it.

Then you call NW Natural.

Something smelled off, and it wasn’t in the refrigerator.

It came from the gas fireplace.

Was I worried? Yes, I was. Gas leaks are bad news.

There I was on December 7th, the only blogger in America not writing a Pearl Harbor post.

Instead, I wrote about going home, finding a home, and the road most mistaken.

In my Army Pfc days I kept an eye out for guys who didn’t have a home to go back to.

For too many, the Army was their home from the moment they signed up, the home they never had.

The Chicago bus driver, the prior service Silver Star Vietnam veteran, and every Drill Sergeant worth their bark, had a home in the Army.

I was just passing through for two years.

It was the same two years as a draftee, but I’d joined. By 1974 the war had cooled off.

My chances of getting blown up on some battlefield were slim to none, although the more inspirational leaders kept telling us we were training to fight Cubans in Angola.

It seemed a stretch then, but at nineteen who knows?

I thought about the innocence of the guys in Hawaii on December 6th, and how they coped on December 8th.

Now I’m a ripe sixty-seven and wonder how anyone can cope with the small things, let alone a world war opening act.

That was my Pearl Harbor Day, 2022, a sad remembrance of the enlisted guys caught in the fire.

Until I got a whiff of gas in my living room. More than a whiff.

In The Beginning

The lunatic who built this house saw a fireplace in England big enough to roast a pig. Or so they said.

Since I’m not roasting anything in this huge fireplace, it got a gas insert, which wasn’t a big ordeal since it already had a gas log-lighter connection with a keyed valve.

The keyed valve is key? Of course.

It’s a pretty skeleton-looking brass key that fits into a gas valve in the floor.

If it gets knocked by a vacuum, or mop, or dog, the pipe might shift and leak.

“But Dave, you vacuum and mop around the house more than anyone.”

Sadly enough, it may have been me.

Heartwarming Moments Of Clarity

Remember the warning as kids to not play with matches, don’t play with fire?

I won an art contest in third grade on that exact theme. The certificate hangs on my Wall of Fame.

But, when a fireplace gets funky, I still dig in. Just not this time, not when the thing wouldn’t flame up.

First, we hired a tech to clean and survey the gas insert. He couldn’t fix anything, but he could take notes and schedule another visit.

Sound normal?

He smelled gas, I smelled gas, we all smelled gas. Not a run out of the house smell of gas like someone was trying to blow up the house, but still gas. Just not heartwarming gas.

Wife called NW Natural:

Call the NW Natural 24-hour emergency line at 800-882-3377.

Leave—no matter what. Even if the smell seems mild, go.

Avoid setting off a spark.

• Don’t use a telephone, or any mobile device that has a battery. 
• Don’t light matches, use a lighter or create any other source of ignition. 
• Don’t operate any electrical switch, including lights, on or off. 
• Don’t start a car. 
• Don’t use a flashlight. 

I took the dog for a spin around the block and saw a gas truck halfway through.

How fast was the response from calling to showing up?

So fast that I jogged up the hill, which frightened the dog. She’d never seen my kick.

The Heartwarming Gas Man Cometh

What is everyday, ordinary stuff to one person, is a freak show to another.

I walked up to the work truck with a dog and a “Hello” like I didn’t live there.

“Got a gas problem here?”

“That’s what I’ll find out.”

“Alright, I’ll open the door.”

The gas man looked like the surgeon who replaced my hip, the one I’d just jogged the hill on.

It’s a hip so good that I assign positive values to everything associated with it. Jogging up the hill and finding a doctor-looking guy on the job?

What could go wrong?

We got to work. ‘We’ as in I turned two valves off and on and talked his ear off like he was a captive audience.

Insider Tip: The valve controls are quarter turn. If they’re in line with the pipe, gas flows; perpendicular to the pipe, no flow. Unless . . .

He did the bubble test at the fireplace. Lots of bubbles told of a leak, a big leak, a leak you could hear.

“My job is to make everyone safe. I’ll test the gas leak. If it fails, I will need to shut off the gas at the meter on the side of the house.”

“So, no heat, no hot water?”

“It’s not an arbitrary decision. I run tests with my equipment and follow the numbers.”

“Sounds like you’ve done this before.”

“Red flagging a meter can be a big deal.”

“It could frighten my neighbors.”

I heard something in his voice, something that said he’d had to explain this to people who didn’t want to understand.

What I understood instinctively was I could smell gas, he could smell gas, we all smelled gas, and he would be the one who made sure we didn’t wake up dead in the bed.

Who’s going to argue about that?

“You sound like you’re doing science here, gas science. Just so we both know, I believe in science. I’m not praying a gas leak away, or sending thoughts to make it stop. If you need to turn off the main gas valve, red flag it, we’re good. I’ve got a coat.”

“Thank you.”

“Either you went to customer service school and graduated Summa cum laude, or you’ve got a good ear for ‘the people.’

“We won’t know anything until I test.”

Holding My Breath For Heartwarming Gas Heat

Testing started and continued past dusk with flashlights.

I sensed dedication to the job of keeping people safe.

To fill the testing wait-time, I did a song and dance about my irrigation contractor from hell who did no work, sued me in court for the work he didn’t do, and won.

“If you ever have a court settlement go against you, and the other party won’t sign the paper stating that you paid, a paper you file with the court to avoid any credit issues in the future, do this:

Write the check and include “Cashing this check provides full and complete payment for Court Case ### in the #### County Court.”

Then get a copy from your band and file it with the court.”

I thought to bring out my greatest hits, the same stories I’ve told for years according to my wife.

She might be right?

I held myself in check, thinking of the old guys who can’t shut-up because they have no one to talk to.

Luckily for anyone I meet for the first time, I’m a write and a listener, though it may not seem like it.

The good part was the man from NW Natural brought the tools of his trade to the job, and a personality.

2

When I write heartwarming gas man to the rescue, this is what it means:

He walked me through every appliance shut off and restart, from gas valves to pilot lights.

Sure, I knew all about it before, but not really. Nothing huge had conked out enough to call for a gas shut-off red flag.

Like every old guy worth a damn, I’ll stick my head into things to figure them out, just not a gas leaking fireplace.

Or oven.

Between 1963 and 1975 the annual number of suicides in England and Wales showed a sudden, unexpected decline from 5,714 to 3,693 at a time when suicide continued to increase in most other European countries. This appears to be the result of the progressive removal of carbon monoxide from the public gas supply. Accounting for more than 40 percent of suicides in 1963, suicide by domestic gas was all but eliminated by 1975. Few of those prevented from using gas appear to have found some other way of killing themselves. 

Yesterday I learned first hand why old guys feel bitter and resentful when faced with problems they can’t solve on their own:

We find ourselves in a world of micro-chips and hybrid cars that may or may not jumpstart another car without blowing up, or shorting out. (Hey Mandy.)

A simple thermostat is more than turning the heat up or down. It needs to be programed.

Aaaaaa.

My heartwarming gas man filled me with thanks, thankfulness, and the ability to wake up today and not hire a crew to come in and tear up my floor, or the ceiling below, to find a gas pipe with a leak and fix it with a gas man solution.

In a chilly house.

I was powerless, felt like an idiot, and somehow overcame it all by being an extra helping hand to take my mind off the most likely event of an imminent gas shut-off.

After hours of testing and re-testing, you can’t be too careful, came the Hail-Mary of all Hail-Marys.

The end result of the process that began at 11:30 with a routine cleaning with a fireplace tech, ended at 6:30 in the dark. With no gas smell.

I said thank-you a hundred times.

He said, “If you smell anything, call me. Call tonight.”

Hot water and a working furnace never sounded so good, so essential.

Wife and I did a victory dance for the win and hit the sheets with heartwarming gas heat in the air.

But not before we popped a bottle of Hawks View Pinot Noir and toasted the Gas Man of the Year!

Thank-you X 100, Jim.