Michael was in a rush to leave with his two sons to be at synagogue on time. He reminded his

wife, Connie, not to forget to lock the door behind her on her way out. As the sun set on the

eve of Yom Kippur, Connie and her guests lit the Yom Tov candles on the buffet table by the

dining room window, as she always did. She stayed in the house for a few minutes but then

left in a rush with her two friends in order to make it to synagogue in time to hear the Kol Nidrei

prayers. Shortly after arriving in synagogue, she remembered that she hadn’t locked the door.

Thank G-d, they were living in a safe area; she had forgotten to lock the door before, so she

was not concerned.

Halfway into the evening service, a member of the synagogue, who had been sitting near the door, approached Michael and asked if he could step into the lobby for a moment. Since Michael was a neurosurgeon, he figured there was probably a medical issue that needed attention. He didn’t ask any questions and went right out. In the lobby he found a man with a teenage boy who identified themselves as his neighbors. They told Michael that a small fire had started in his house, but it was put out and the firemen were still there clearing the smoke out. The neighbors had driven to the synagogue and were willing to give Michael a ride home right away. Michael did not drive on Shabbat or holidays and after confirming that the fire had been extinguished, Michael realized that there was nothing else for him to do by rushing home. He thanked the neighbors for their report and kindly refused their offer of a ride home, explaining that he’d be home shortly. Michael returned to the sanctuary and rapidly completed the rest of the night’s prayers. As soon as he was through, he ran home to see what the situation was at his house, not knowing what to expect.

As he arrived home, he encountered two firemen leaving his house.

“You’re one lucky fellow,” one of them said. “A couple saw the fire and was able to get into the house to put it out.  If this fire had continued for another minute or two, the whole house would have been in flames and you would have lost your home. We would never have been able to get here in time.” Thanking them for their

help, Michael entered the house to see the extent of the damage done.

The first place he checked was where Connie had lit the candles. Most of the items that had been on the buffet table had been moved to the front yard, revealing the ashes and damage done to the top surface of the buffet table and the small tablecloth that had been covering it. He lifted his eyes, following the direction that the flames must have traveled, and saw that one of the windows had cracked and the frame had been burnt. However, except for some splashes of wax, there was no other damage to the windows. He let his eyes drift further up and saw that the curtains framing the windows had been singed around the bottom edge. Michael understood more fully why the fireman had commented about the timing of the fire. Had the curtains caught fire, the house would have been lost. Grateful that nothing worse had happened, Michael went out the front door and sat on the steps to get some fresh air and to wait for the rest of his family to return from synagogue.

After sitting for a few minutes, he looked up and saw a couple approaching him. They wanted to speak to him, figuring that he was the owner of the house. “We’re the ones who put the fire out.” Michael’s house was on the corner of his development. The couple was on their way to their friend’s house and decided to take a different route that they’d never tried before. They had been driving down Veale road, the road perpendicular to Michael’s development, when they saw some flames in the window as they passed. The woman turned to her husband and said that the flames didn’t look normal or controlled. They decided to turn around and check out the situation. Pulling in front of the house, they realized that a small fire had, in fact, begun right in the front window of the home. They called 911 and ran to the door to try and help. They began knocking and ringing the doorbell. Nobody answered. Everyone was at synagogue! Desperate to do something, the man tried the doorknob and was relieved to find that the door had been left unlocked. He quickly ran to the kitchen and found a pot and managed to put out the fire with some water.  The smoke was already pretty thick in the house so they went outside to wait for the firemen to arrive. To their surprise, the fire trucks didn’t show up until five minutes after the couple had extinguished the fire.

Michael realized that if this couple hadn’t taken the initiative to put the fire out themselves, the whole house would have been destroyed before the firemen got there! Feeling grateful and indebted to this couple, he asked them for their names so that he could look them up after Yom Kippur and somehow repay them for their deed.

“My name is K___ and this is my husband T_______,” she responded. “What’s your name?”

“Michael Sugarman,” he replied.

“Sugarman? Do you have any relation to the doctor? Dr. Sugarman?” She asked

inquisitively.

“Actually… I am Dr. Sugarman.”

K___ was in shock. “You’re Dr. Sugarman?! You had my mother as your patient about 12 years ago. Do you remember her?”

Michael recognized the name but didn’t remember any of her circumstances so he asked K___ to refresh his memory. She described that her mother had been very ill and had emergency surgery for a brain tumor. Following her surgery she remained critically ill and was on life support. The family was not sure what to do. K___’s brother had already given up and wanted to just let their mother go, but K___ wasn’t ready to give up yet. They had come to Michael for advice and he told them to wait for a period of time to see if she would take a turn for the better. They waited for that time period and she did begin to get better. She went on to recover fully and lived another 12 years. She had all her faculties about her until this past June, when she died of natural causes.