When I was about eight years old, one of my chores was to go down about 10 streets from, my home, to the house where my baba and zadie lived. In the event they needed anything from the store I ran the errand for them. My zadie was the shamis of the orthodox shul in the city of New Bedford, Mass., where I was born.
One day when I went to the house at my regular visit time, there was a strange sharp odor , in the house, and my baba, was sleeping on a couch, and my zadie was sleeping on the bed. I wasn't able to arouse either of them, and became alarmed. I ran back to my house told my mother what had happened and she immediately came with me, and found the gas jets had been opened by hanging a piece of clothing over it. This was in 1919, when the system had been converted to electricity, and the gas had not been shut down, or disconnected. My mother and I dragged both of her parents to the front porch, and after continual shaking and slapping finally aroused both of them. I can still hear the praise, "Host unz gerattifed" (you saved us!!!!)