This doesn’t look promising. In fact, you might even call it hopeless trying to find an apartment in MetroWest Massachusetts for less than $1,000 per month in the year 2013.

I’ve searched all the popular websites from apartments.com to Craigslist to realtor.com and even Zillow. There’s nothing. Well at least there’s nothing in my price range. Yeah sure, there’s plenty of multi-bedroom palaces in high-end complexes with free-parking and concierge services starting at $2,000 per month but I’m just one person. And I can park my own car and open my own doors.

So I continue searching. Acton: too pricey. Natick: too pricey. Framingham: doable but limited vacancies and only in questionable neighborhoods.

And then there it was. Like the holy grail, or better, when Indiana Jones grabs the gold head-statue before being crushed by an enormous stone ball in Raiders of the Lost Ark there was a posting on Craigslist:

WHAT!!!! Doth my eyes deceive me? Is that right? Is that a misprint? That’s gotta be a mistake. They either forgot a “1” at the beginning or a “0” at the end. There’s no way there’s an available apartment in Holliston for less than $1,000 per month at the beginning of the 21st century.

But there was. I called the realtor who agreed to meet me at the building later in the week for a showing. I chuckled to myself thinking it’s gotta be a joke. It’s gonna be a scene from Candid Camera or worse, I’m gonna arrive at the showing and meet up with Jeffrey Dahmer or Ted Bundy.

Once again I was wrong. I pulled up to the building on Central Street at the agreed time and found a modest, simple, multi-use building with two businesses on the first floor and, from the outside, what appeared to be two apartments on the top floor. On the bottom left side of the building was a secondhand clothing store called Andrea’s Boutique which was full of pretty little wardrobes & dresses for girls & children. The bottom right side of the building was occupied by an electronics repair shop. Funny thing about the repair shop though was the door to the store was wide open but there was no one inside. It was full of gadgets & gizmos, tools & wires, and a lot of stuff you might find at Radio Shack. I continued gazing into the shop when the realtor arrived. We shook hands and we entered the building through the center closed door which brought us upstairs. As I suspected, there were two apartments one on either side. While the realtor fiddled with a variety of keys, I went through worst case scenarios in my head. The apartment is gonna be a mess. The roof will be leaking. The neighbor across the hall will be a psycho-killer. But like so many other times in my life, I was wrong.

The apartment was a perfect, little, cozy studio that overlooked Central Street and downtown Holliston. It was modest but perfect for me, a one-person renter.

I asked the realtor again “$650 per month?”.

The realtor just nodded yes.

I took it.

A week later I signed a month-to-month lease and provided a first & last month deposit of $1,300. Two weeks later I moved in. It was September 2013.

My first morning in Holliston was surreal. It was quiet. Very quiet in fact. And my only thought was breakfast. Having just moved in, I hadn’t had time to do any grocery shopping. I stepped outside of the building in search of food recalling there was a group of stores further down Central Street. Perhaps there was a coffee shop or diner I hoped. And so I walked, finding myself outside the Central Cafe moments later. The parking lot was full of cars, mostly trucks and work vans. I’m employed in the food & beverage industry and know from experience that a full parking lot is always a good sign. I went inside and what I found was straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting.

The Central Cafe was full of an eclectic group of people all gabbing, sipping coffee & eating breakfast. The tables were mostly occupied by tradesmen in dungarees but there were also some pretty ladies, businessmen and one portly police officer who didn’t sit but stood sentry over the crowd. He was talking to some of the others about golf while everyone chatted.

I moved up in line, ordered, retrieved my breakfast & coffee then sat in the melee of diners not sure if I should contribute to the breakfast conversation. It was loud. And I have no idea what everyone is talking about.

This was my routine for the first few weeks in Holliston-breakfast at the diner without adding much to the tableside discussion. I got my breakfast foods & coffee then just mostly listened. Then one random morning, while eating my “usual” breakfast order amongst the guys at the diner, there was a sudden high-pitched tone blaring from what appeared to be cellphones, pagers or walkie-talkies. Everyone in the Central Cafe seemed to have one.

What followed was what appeared to be a 911 broadcast, some kind of emergency notice. Everyone in the Central Cafe fell silent and listened, myself included.

Moments later, everyone in the Central Cafe, myself excluded, grabbed their coats and ran out of the diner leaving their breakfasts behind. I watched from the storefront as the guys who had just been eating breakfast sped down to the Central Street Fire Station, jumped into their fire suits, climbed into a fire truck and blazed down Central Street and passed the Central Cafe.

I looked on stunned not sure what had just happened. Later that week, I learned that Holliston employed a Volunteer Fire Department. That is, the guys who are fixing our plumbing, rewiring our homes and plowing snow for us are the same guys who are saving our lives.

And I am humbled to be living amongst them and eating breakfast with them at the Central Street Cafe.

This story is dedicated to the volunteer members of the Holliston Fire Department and to the memory and family of Joe Gallerani