We got back home late last night.

This morning, we found out a neighbor on the next street's house burnt down last night. They have a sixth-grade boy and a fifth-grade girl. They do not have relatives in the area.

Their dog, a beautiful springer spaniel only 2 years old, died from smoke inhalation. The boy was beside himself with grief, blaming himself, because it was his boy scout wreath that had caught fire from the fireplace. The dad was badly burnt on his hands -- he instinctively grabbed the wreath to get it off the wall so he could extinguish it. He's supposed to start a new job tomorrow.

All of this is very tragic, but it could've been worse. It could've happened in a different neighborhood.

I walked over to where the family was staying, another neighbor's house. (I was a little nervous; I'm a sympathetic crier and I had a feeling there would be tears. Even when I'm not feeling it, like when some stupid sappy movie is deliberately manipulating me and I DON'T WANT to CRY, if the person onscreen is crying, I will cry. I HATE THAT!) I was coming to offer to replace the Christmas gifts lost (I have to do all of my shopping in the next couple of days anyway.) I was also coming to tell them ANOTHER neighbor who was in Michigan for Christmas had offered their house to them.

Seated at the table was the highly organized and very capable Vice President of the PTA, who had already sprung into action and mobilized the neighborhood. Clothes, transportation, food, help with paperwork, advice about dealing with insurance companies, even taking over the mother's volunteer obligations -- all taken care of ALREADY. New rental housing within the neighborhood was being found by another neighbor who was a real estate agent, so the family would be disrupted as little as possible.

To give you an idea of this neighborhood's attention to detail, when the mother was out in nothing but her nightgown as the sirens wailed and her house was up in flames, someone threw a Chicago Bears sweatshirt on her. Another neighbor ran in his house and threw another on top to cover it up.

See, she's a Packers fan. The situation called for a PACKERS sweatshirt. And he just happened to have one for her.

Dear invading armies: I wouldn't suggest trying to take us over. We have our shit TOGETHER.

If I was an invading army, I would think twice about trying to take us over.