Creaks

They began in the early morning. The creaks. Tiny sounds made audible. Little by little. Sleeping forms inert in their beds. Warm and toasty under covers and comforters. At first there was no alarm.

To the unaccustomed ear the creaks were invisible. A gurgle or hiccup from the baby’s room was another thing! Now there was an ear attuned! Mom could hear the slightest noise from the baby. Dad on the other hand, deaf to babes and audibles from older kids, had an ear that heard different sounds.

A drip. At 1:00 AM. A rumble from the basement, suspiciously near the furnace. Or a creak.

A creak? Yes. A creak!

Awake now he pulled himself from the warm bed feeling the instant chill. Cold actually. And heard the creak again. Hmmm.

Pulling on sweat pants and a thick over shirt, he walked noiselessly into the hall, listened intently, and slowly went down the stairs. Smelling now, feeling the cold banister, and hearing the creak again. On the first floor, bottom of the stairway. Entry hall, front door, cool air sweeping about his rapidly cooling body the mystery took shape.

The house was cool; too cool. Although the creak re-sounded, something else was becoming evident – a missing sound, a noise he now knew to be comforting, but missing!

The furnace was silent. Like a stone. Nothing but the creak. The damn creak!

The thermostat was next on the inspection circuit but no, no response. Inert and useless. Twirling the dial did nothing. No whump from the furnace below. No reassuring heat. No response. An elephant once thought friendly was now a lump of … of nothing.

Down to the basement. Fumbling for the light switch. Smelly basement. Ugly actually. Stumbled around in the near dark until the large dark shape was evident before him. Large and dark. And silent.

He kicked it. Nothing. Nothing but a creak. What was that sound? Why a creak?

The kick made a loud noise. It echoed through the house along all of the now cold heating ducts. Rumbled actually. Futilely, too. The kick of course did nothing. Only slight satisfaction and then only for a moment.

The thermometer read 52 degrees in the dining room. Outdoors the thermometer stood ominously at 12. Degrees. Bright moonlight. Heat radiating toward the moon, away from the house and the ancient furnace that stubbornly sat lumpily in the basement. Doing nothing.

Well. Now what. Mom stirred from the floor above. In with the baby. Then mumbles as she came downstairs wondering what was wrong.

It’s the furnace honey. It’s not working.

We had lived in the house for a little over 4 months. Moved in mid fall. Winterized the old house, re-installed the drafty old storm windows (wood wouldn't you know!) and tried to weather strip the doors. The baby came 6 weeks later. Then winter was encamped firmly, testing our old house and new, first time home owners and, more dicey, new parents.

He pulled out the Yellow Pages. Today’s young people barely recognize that term(!) but then it was the homeowner’s bible. Heating and air conditioning listing. Heaters. Furnaces. Furnace repairs—emergency phone number. He pounced on the phone and dialed the number (yes, dialed!). Seven rings later a gruff voice answered. Sleepy gruff, not mean gruff. It was now 1:40 AM. The voice said “yeah?”

The young homeowner tentatively stated the problem. No heat. Six week old baby in the house. Old place. What do I do now?

Gruff voice said he’d be right there. He was in the same town. Give him 15 minutes to dress and start the truck.

Mom made a pot of coffee, more to heat the kitchen than anything else, but also something to offer the repairman. The dad found some newspaper and kindling, grabbed a few logs and built a fire in the fireplace. Unknowingly the young homeowner was building a fire to heat the home but the chimney would suck the little heat available right out of the house. Gruff voice arrived. Told dad to let the fire burn out. Of little use anyway.

And so he tramped down into the basement. Bangs and rattles and other mysterious sounds marked his progress at fixing the problem. A half hour later a whump was heard, the smell of heated air rose lazily to the nose, finally a rumble and the blower was on. Warm air blew from the ducts and registers.

The thermometer rose now from 48 degrees slowly toward the goal of 68. The crisis was over. How many times would this repeat over the next few decades? In this same old house?

The thermocouple needed to be replaced. A simple job. A simple diagnosis. A quick resolution. He didn't know what a thermocouple was. But he learned fast. And every other year it was replaced in early fall. Just to be sure. To be sure not to be awakened by a mysterious creak!

Gruff voice was kindly. Gave a discount for his middle of the night call. He clearly understood the young couple’s plight. First time home owners. First time parents. Cold night and no heat. A furnace taken for granted but now a valued appliance to be cared for.

He asked gruff voice what the creaks were. Creaks? Oh; just the house cooling down. Wood shrinking, ducts contracting with falling temperatures. All very normal.

Now many decades later the creaks still sound. Just from another source having nothing whatever to do with furnaces and appliances!

December 27, 2013