Gratitude of a Taxpayer
Yep, the plethora of taxes we pay in North America can provide lots to whine about — but last night, lots to be grateful for, too.
We live in an inner city neighbourhood, where brand new condominium towers abut century old rooming houses. Despite their roots in the city’s early days, many of the older buildings are past their best-before date, and recently there have been fires that led to loss of life for vulnerable residents.
So we’re used to hearing sirens. And we know that emergency first responders are quick to attend fires at these addresses, understanding that the stakes can be high and time is of the essence.
Last night, we were just finishing dinner when we heard a fire alarm. Ensuring that it wasn’t our building calling for evacuation, we were about to look outside when the alarm stopped.
And then the sirens started. A lot of them, and when they stopped, it seemed to be … close by?
A quick look out the window revealed all. The vacant storefront on the corner across the alley was billowing smoke, and residents of the youth hostel upstairs were peering out the windows to see what all the fuss was about. And the sirens had stopped because the fire trucks had converged around three sides of the block across the lane.
