When we were living in France I smelled gas in our kitchen, so I went down and told the resident manager. He came up, agreed there was a leak but was unperturbed. He walked over to the joint where the stove was hooked up to the line coming in, and he lit a match. Sure enough, he found the problem — you could see the ring of flame where the leak was. He tightened the joint and the problem was fixed.
Needless to say, I was not as relaxed as he was. As he lit the match, I was over in the doorway, wondering if it would do any good to run. I still don’t know if he knew what he was doing or if we were both incredibly lucky. That was 60 years ago, and the memory is still vivid.
October 13, 2026
