NEWPORT, Ky. -- The delicious tragedy began shortly after 9 p.m. Tuesday. Marcus and I were preparing to leave a small soiree to pick up our friend Margie, and then head to another New Year's party.

After the goodbye hugs and Happy New Year wishes to the others, Marcus already was through the door when he reminded me that we had some beers in the fridge. As I hustled over to the kitchen, here's what I heard next:

"Oh my God; John, Marcus, get out here." It was Suzy who demanded our immediate presence out on the deck. I've only met Suzy a couple times now, but I don't need to be formally introduced to anyone to hear terror in his or her voice. Anyway, her sister Nicole also was out on the deck. So were Joe, Brad and Justin.

One moment, we were enjoying the company of friends, talking about the upcoming year and the ridiculousness of the MTV generation. The portion of the conversation that I particularly enjoyed was Suzy's recap of a recent network interview with Whitney Houston. That our worries were so inconsequential that we could afford to laugh at the stupidity of the stars was such a blessing.

And the next moment, we were watching a house burn. While the spirits flowed splendidly at Suzy's apartment, this was no hallucination. A subtle home, the construction of which took place perhaps 100 years ago, went up in flames. I don't know what perpetuated our collective gaze out on that deck more; was it that it's such a rarity to see? Was it because we'd have an unusual story to tell when we return to work? I didn't have time to figure out why; I was busy on my cell phone, calling the television station where I work to get a camera out here quickly.

John Wise, the hero. Hardly.

In looking back at my actions, I'm disappointed that making that call was my first impulse, even though I know I couldn't have helped. I wish I was a welder.

Anyway, after picking our jaws up, Marcus and I went downstairs, and amid at least a dozen fire trucks and other emergency crews, our low-angle gaze resumed. Neighbors wearing University of Kentucky gear said they thought the family's numerous Christmas lights led to the fire. It wasn't known if anyone was in the house. Not then, at least.

Before we ran into a reporter and two photographers from my station, I took a couple of pictures of my own with a disposable camera. If there was going to be any objection, I could simply reply, "But I work in news." As if that carries with it some sort of entitlement or exemption from tact.

Some years ago when I thought I wanted to pursue an on-air position in news, I wondered then if I could have handled an assignment like the New Year's Eve fire on Nelson Place in Newport. I remembered Tuesday that I wouldn't have been able to approach family members and ask them how it feels to have their house burn down just a couple hours before a new year of hope and potential prosperity begins. I admire the Todd Dykeses of the world. As Marcus -- a former reporter himself -- and I left in pursuit of furthering our fun, he was just arriving, asking for answers.

We got out of there, resumed our revelry and rang in the new year. We told our story to the few we'd later encounter, presuming it would top all tales told that night. Did it? Probably.

When we returned to Suzy's in just the third hour of the current calendar, a neighbor stood by himself on a sidewalk across the street from the destroyed house. The fire was out for the most part, and apparently, so were a few details. It turned out that a 10-year-old boy died in the blaze.

Not until the sun came up Wednesday were firefighters able to find the boy. His name was Henry Romano. He and his family are in my prayers.