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Father and Son
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               Page Two

From:  rosanne iho <>
Date:  Sun Nov 17, 2002  8:12 pm
Subject:  Only In The Movies

It was an absolutely beautiful, balmy, summer
evening in Southern California.

In the rec' room of Los Angeles County Fire
Station 51, six firemen sat huddled in front of
a TV set, watching the Dodgers and the Padres
battling it out in a late-night double-header.
The home team had taken the first game.
The men cheered, as Dodger's pitcher, Don
Sutton, struck out the Padres--one, two,
three. The Dodgers came to bat. First baseman,
Steve Garvey, hit a single. Outfielder, Dave
Lopes, also singled. Sutton walked. With the
bases loaded--and no outs--Dodger slugger,
Dusty Baker, stepped up to the plate.

"There's the wind up...and the pi--!" the
announcer began, only to be drowned out
by the Station's alarm.

There was a group groan.

"Station 51..." the dispatcher began.

The television was flicked off. The rec'
room reluctantly emptied.

"Man down...unknown type rescue...213
East Morrow Drive...Ambulance responding...
Two-One-Three East Morrow Drive...Time

"Station 51...KMG-365," Captain Hank
Stanley acknowledged, as his crews climbed
into their respective rescue vehicles, tossing
turnout coats and helmets on. He handed
Squad 51's driver a copy of the call slip and
then hurried over to assume his seat in the

Moments later, the rigs exited the parking
bay and pulled out onto the dark, deserted
street in front of the Fire Station--lights
flashing and sirens wailing.

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213 East Morrow Drive turned out to be
an enormous mansion with a tiled roof and
gables, surrounded by an ancient cottonwood
grove. The hedges lining the circular drive
were untrimmed, and the large lawns lacked
a manicured look, as well. The trucks pulled
right up in front of the place. Their drivers cut
the sirens, and their occupants piled out. The
paramedics grabbed some equipment from
the Squad's side compartments and then
joined their fellow firefighters at the front

Their Captain pressed the doorbell. An eerie
'gong' sound filled the air. The men exchanged
amused glances and waited patiently on the
moonlit porch for someone to appear. When
nobody did, Stanley gasped--impatiently--and
hit the 'gong' again...which resulted in several
snorts of suppressed laughter. Hank gave up
on the 'gong' and began banging a big, brass

'C'mon...c'mon...' Paramedic John Gage silently
urged, 'These equipment cases ain't getting any
lighter...' He finally set his heavy burdens down
and took a step or two back, to stare up at the
big, ugly abode. "Yah know...I saw a house just
like this on the Late-Late Show the other night."

"Yeah...Me, too..." Firefighter Chet Kelly quietly
confessed, as his feet shifted uncomfortably
beneath him, "It was in one of those horror

"Right!" John continued, "The butler kept a
beautiful blonde heiress chained up in the dungeon!
The place was loaded with secret passages and--"

"--And that's the only place you're ever going
to find a house like that," his partner, Roy
DeSoto suddenly interrupted, "In the movies!"

Gage stared sadly at DeSoto for a few seconds
and then slowly shook his head. "No imagination!"

"Kelly! Lopez! Grab some flashlights and
check the back of the house!" their
Commander bugled, bored with his banging.
"Before we go barging in," he told his Engineer,
Mike Stoker, "I'd better call dispatch and
make sure we've got the right address..."
He slipped a HT from his right coat pocket
and thumbed the call button. "L.A., this is
County 51..."

"Go ahead, 51..."

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"L.A., request address check on our
last call, logged at 23:02..."

"Standby, 51...51, the call reads: Man
down...unknown type rescue... 213 East
Morrow Drive."

"Roger that, L.A.," the Captain acknowledged,
"51 clear." Stanley stared up at the house
number--213--for a few seconds and then
turned back to Stoker. "Mike, you sure this
is East Morrow Drive?"

"Well, if it's not," his Engineer began,
"someone's been playing games with
the street signs."

"Man!" Kelly breathlessly exclaimed upon
his return, "It's even creepier out back!"

His Captain rolled his eyes and questioned
the third member of his engine crew, "No

Marco Lopez shook his helmeted head.

"Well, we can't stand out here all night!"
their Commander finally determined and
turned the door knob. Stanley smiled,
as the heavy portal swung open. There
would be no need for the forceable-entry
tools. "Fire Department!" he shouted
as he stepped into the dimly-lit entryway,
"Anybody home?!" No answer.

The paramedics picked their equipment
back up and then they, and the others,
followed their fearless leader inside.

"This is the Fire Department!" Stanley
called out again, "Anybody home?!" Still
no answer. In fact, except for the loud
ticking of a clock in the entrance hall, the
whole house was filled with an eerie silence.

The paramedics sighed and set their heavy
cases down again.

Stanley turned to his men. "All right, Roy...
You and Marco check upstairs! Mike and I
will cover this floor. Gage, Kelly, you two
get the basement! Move out!"

"What are we looking for?" Kelly nervously
inquired of his search partner.

"Beats me!" Gage teased, "It's an unknown
type rescue..."

"How about the basement door--for starters!"
their Captain impatiently prodded.

The two foot-dragging firefighters fled the
entrance hall. They managed to make their
way into the kitchen. John jerked a door
open--a broom closet. Chet pulled another
portal open--a pantry. Gage latched onto
a third door's knob and pulled. It's un-oiled
hinges creaked, eerily. He smiled,
triumphantly and motioned his search-mate

Kelly flicked his flashlight on and shone it
down a very steep set of basement stairs.

"If there's a beautiful blonde heiress down
there," Gage began, "I get to rescue her!"

"That's not a dungeon!" Kelly reminded him.

John stared sadly at Chet, and shook his
head, "No imagination..."

"Oh-oh no," Kelly corrected his colleague,
"I've got an imagination, all right! That's
why I'm gonna let you go first. That way,
if there's a tall dude down there--with a
long, black cloak and a wolf's-head cane..."
he paused to tap Gage on the chest, "you
get to rescue him!"

John swallowed hard and started down
the stairs. "Thanks!" he muttered,
sarcastically. They got about two steps
down and then stopped, hearing their
Captain calling them. They gladly retreated
and went racing back to the entrance hall.

"Yeah, Cap?!" the panting pair simultaneously
exclaimed, as they came skidding to a stop
in front of Hank Stanley.

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Date: Tue, 19 Nov 2002 18:54:30 -0800 (PST)
From: "Jeff Seltun" <>  
Subject:  The Stuff of Dreams

The phone rang two times and the
pauses showing his call going unanswered
between them only increased his
anxiety. ::Why am I feeling like an errant
school boy? I'm forty two years old.::
thought Dr. Brackett. ::Dad is just dad to
me, isn't he?:: his thoughts rose.

-------     -------     -------  

"Because he's you're dad." Dixie's voice
spoke from his memory of a conversation
he had a week ago with his husky throated
head ER nurse on just that same subject.
"And you still look up to him. After all, you
did follow in his footsteps getting into the
medical field." she said.

"Emergency medicine's a far cry from
psychiatry Dix. I didn't follow anyone to
get where I am today. Especially not him."
Kel said a little defensively when Dix's
comment stuck a little too far into the
real truth of matters. "Also, I've branched
off into cardiology, too, and that's an even
more unrelated area than being some office
bound,  leather chair to couch side shrink."

Dix's frosted eyebrows rose in amazement.
"Oh? I'd say in that way, you and your father
are in an area a little closer together my fine,
fretting friend. You both deal with matters of
the heart. Only yours deals with just the
physical aspects of things. You fix the body
whereas he fixes the mind. Quite a complimentary
pair to have in one family, in my book. You should
team up together, Kel. Even if just to compare
professional notes or something. Might be a way
for you two to work out differences."
she said gently, handing Dr. Brackett a cup
of coffee.

"We are. I have dinner with him once a month."

"Oh, really." Dix said, throwing disbelieving doe
eyes at Kel. "There's twelve months in a year,
Kel. And I distinctly remember setting up
reservations at Mannie's for you and your father
only twice total, since this time last year.."

Kel's chin twitched. "I've been busy.."

"Yeah, well so have I. " Dix countered.
"Although in my case, I haven't been too
busy to see family I care about, to drift
apart from again,due to carelessness."

From anyone else, Dixie's remark would
earn a scathing sharp reply. But Kel and
Dix were the best of friends, been old flames
even, at one time. And what she said and felt,
was still very very important to him.
"You .....really think so?" he said, studying his
hands and rubbing absently at their surgical

Dix shoved a jar of hand cream at him across
the lounge table. "I  know so. I've seen you
two cross by my desk everyday. Brent to
his office on the ninth floor and you to yours.
I can't believe you two even work in the same
hospital. He could be in Greece for all the contact
I've seen. I can read the whole state of affairs between
you two just by the degree of scowling on your
faces. You in particular, have a certain cheek
twitch that pops up whenever you think of
your father.."

"I do not.." Dr. Brackett protested.

"You do... Ahaa!" she cried out in triumph.
"There it is again! That's seven times today already."
She leaned forward, finely filed nails clicking
on the formica table top. "And for me, that's
a critical sign with only one treatment available
in my line of thinking.......Go call him, Kel.
Arrange one of those well overdue dinner
dates. You both are in severe need for quality
father/son family time.....Oh,.. Just one thing

Kel's face was sheepish as he used the cream
Dixie had given him briskly to ease his chapped
aching hands. "And what's that, Dix?"

"Promise me you'll both leave your white
doctor coats at home.."

---------   ---------  ---------  

The phone rang a third time in his ear. By then
Kel's cheek twitch had traveled up to his hairline.
He groaned as the anxiety reached deeply
under his skin. ::Come on. Pick up already..::


"Hello. Brent Brackett speaking.."


A pause. ."Is...everything all right down there
son? I didn't hear a disaster call go out.."
Brent asked.

"No. no no.. Everything's fine. Quiet night
in fact. So far, only one station is out on
a run. Station 51's." and he tried to sound
natural as he laughed. "I....just wanted to
say I'm sorry for missing our last dinner
plans in May. I'd to make it up
to you.."

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Father and Son
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