What is a suburban adventure? Besides finding out that your new neighbors are serial killers...

My heart skipped a few beats this morning when I pulled up to my driveway and I couldn't see past the remarkable concentration of fire trucks and emergency vehicles parked and blaring in front of my house.

A Stanford Heights fireman with a glowstick tried his damndest to wave my vehicle on down the street.

"But I live here," I argued.

"Um, can you wait a little while?" he pleaded.

"Um, no, this is my damn house!" Medill-honed reporter instinct kicks in to disguise my nervousness that my parents might not be okay. "So, what's going on here? Fire? Death? Destruction? Can I get you on the record?"

"Uh, I dunno. I don't think you'll be able to fit your car in here." Dammit! I pull up to my house in a state of emergency! All you can say is, you can't park here!? I gave him the "look" and eventually agreed to help me shimmy into the driveway, squeezing my slight Honda between one of the firetrucks and the sad stump of wood and metal that we consider a mailbox--drivers on our street think of it as good target practice.

When I got by I could see that the house was definitely not on fire, but there appeared to be a plume of smoke billowing in the rain-soaked sky, rising from the clump of trees along the property line in the northwest corner of the backyard. There were several firemen in full out-dress, aiming a hose threaded across the yard at the clump of trees. I ran to the back door and found both of my parents pressed against the window panes, watching the proceedings.

Apparently, sometime in the early morning the rain had snapped one of the bigger branches of a big ass dead tree. It fell on the power line and went up in flames.

My mother described our suburban adventure best when she made a simple observation: "We're just sitting here enjoying our breakfast. Meanwhile, our backyard is on fire."

Slowly, the suburban excitement died down, fire extinguished. The trucks went back to the station. Neighbors slipped away from the windows, into the darkness of their homes. An interesting end to my own suburban saga (for now).