It seems every couple of days on the news I bring viewers the story of a house fire, and every time I talk about one of these news events, I can relate, because I’ve been there.

Back in 1984 I lost almost everything I owned in a fire, except of course, the most important thing, my life. I was a junior at Assumption University in Worcester, sharing an off campus apartment with five of my friends, that was basically an unofficial fraternity house. It was a six bedroom apartment in an old Victorian, that would later be labeled a tenement by a reporter. The drab exterior was accented by listless landscaping, the wallpaper faded and dated, , there was no air conditioning, and there was only one bathroom, but it was a fun place to live, and it was home during the college year. That rundown eyesore was the scene of some raging parties there, served as a place to study for exams and type papers, and most importantly, it is where we strengthened our friendships that are now in their fifth decade.

On a warm night on April 28, 1984 our home was destroyed by fire. The landlord, and I’ll use the adverb “unwisely” in place of what spontaneously comes to mind, was peeling paint with a blow torch. The ancient wood inside sparked stealth flames that spread through the hollow walls. It happened around 6:30 at night, so my roommates all got out safely. I was working that night at Legal Sea Foods and got a call there that went something like this “Denny, the house burned down and your room got it the worst.”

They sounded serious, but I couldn’t be sure so I called the Worcester Fire Department to verify. It was true. When I got there, the roomies had been right. My room was trashed. Notebooks left on my bed and desk were charred. Our refrigerator survived and kept the beer cold that we so needed that night.

Our disaster made the front page of the Worcester Telegram & Gazette, with the headline “Three Alarm Fire Leaves 13 Homeless.” We learned in print that our beloved home was considered a tenement. I’m sure our friends in the dorms were jealous. We were nearing exams so we crashed with friends for the next two weeks and moved back with our parents for the summer. Thanks to those parents, we were able to collect under their homeowner’s insurance because we were considered dependents and replace the clothes and furniture destroyed in the blaze.

Here are some more pictures from a yellowed photo album collecting dust in my attic: