Like most attorneys, I find that taking a vacation is a mixed blessing.  I get to relax during the vacation; but, am overwhelmed with work before and after the time.  I had a few ideas for this month's column.  The ideas, however, remain ideas. I decided to share an experience from my recent vacation because of its illustration of the joy of living in a small town with a small town private practice.

          I was able to travel to France in March with the Shippensburg University Madrigal Singers. The group of about twenty college students under the direction of Dr. Blaine Shover selected a tour with American Music Abroad.  The trip was in northern France from Omaha Beach, Bayeux and Caen to Versailles, Paris, and Reims and then to Alsace Lorraine and Colmar.  The tour ended in Lucerne and Zurich, Switzerland.  Along the way the group performed four concerts in various churches and cathedrals.  Since the route is by bus, there are extra seats for adults.  Other than the performances, there are tours, shopping and various restaurants.  I'm one of the adults that have been on almost all of the group's European tours over the years so quickly signed up for this trip in the spring of 2013.  This trip was scheduled for Spring Break, mid March, 2014, in the middle of our unusually icy winter.  [France was in the high 50s, low 60s].

          I left my house and my pets in the capable hands of Leah, who needs the extra cash for singing lessons.  She frequently stays at my house when I travel to see the grandchildren, so is very familiar with the building.  I was shocked, then, to receive a text message from Leah on Saturday morning, a week into the trip.  The message related that she could not get any hot water from the shower.  Since I use an oil furnace to supply hot water heat, I immediately suspected that my automatic delivery of oil had been delayed too long with the given winter conditions. 

          I immediately sent a Facebook message, (free), to her, giving her some phone numbers.  After an interminable five hour wait, the time difference, I contacted my office manager at 7:30 a.m., Eastern time, on a Saturday morning.  I used a friend's cell phone that had been converted to international calling.  My office manager promised to arrange the oil delivery.  I also told her the name of the contractor who installed and services my furnace, this one just three years old.

          About twelve hours later, I learned that the crisis had been averted.  However, it was not a simple fix.

          After the oil was delivered, Leah didn't have a clue how to start the furnace.  Rather than call my office manager, she called her boyfriend.  He came quickly to her aid.  He works at the Naval Supply Depot as an IT engineer and was certain he could figure out the new furnace.  The two stood in the furnace room of the basement, goggling how to restore a furnace after it runs out of oil.  They properly bled the line from the tank to the furnace.  They followed all sorts of Internet instructions, though to no avail.  The furnace would not start.

          Leah, in desperation, called her father for help.  He begged off as not a capable mechanic.  He did suggest, however, that she call Bruce for help.  She said she would, but only if her father would call first.  After being alerted to the problem, Bruce came over to the house, a distance of a block and a half. 

          Bruce learned about fixing heating equipment from his father.  He's informally tried to keep up over the years.  He was upset that he could not get the furnace to start, although he confirmed that Leah had done the preliminary work correctly.  Suddenly, Leah noticed a manilla envelope in the rafter over the furnace.  The envelope contained the instructions on starting the furnace.  Within a few seconds the problem was solved, the furnace was working and the house was being heated.  It seems that the start button has to be pressed for fifteen seconds.

          That is how the Opera Singer called the IT man, who couldn't get the furnace to work.  Then they called the University Vice President, who deferred to the expertise of the Mayor.  The Mayor came to the rescue [after reading the booklet the Heating Contractor stored on the premise].  Only in a small town....

Here are some pictures from Barb's trip to France: