The Aftermath - Part 1. What I miss

After  32 years in the volunteer fire service, it was time to step away, or "hang up the hat" as the saying goes. It had taken its toll physically, mentally, and emotionally.  Life events paved the way for a departure I never imagined I would experience.  Now after several years have passed, it is much easier for me to honestly analyze my "career", and the roll it played in my life.   As the title of this post indicates, I have decided to focus first on the things I miss most about being a volunteer firefighter.

BEING PART OF THE SOLUTION
There is no greater thrill than knowing that you possess the skill, knowledge, and equipment to bring a positive outcome to a dire situation.   As I review newspaper clippings, photographs, and supplemental reports, I realize that I played a role is helping, and in some cases, SAVING many lives.  First responders are often thrust into peoples lives at the worst moments they will ever experience.  Whether serving the roll of "hydrant man" assuring a quick water supply,  advancing on a fire as the "pipe man", opening a roof as the "vent man", or directing operations as part of an incident management team, I always felt that the job I did at a fire scene was an important part of the overall success of the mission.  I know that there are people who are alive today, and buildings that are still standing because I had the opportunity to be part of a team of dedicated public servants who possessed the willingness, skills, and guts to put the mission first.

EDUCATION AND TRAINING

 I am guessing that the average ratio of preparation-to-execution is about 300:1.  Between classroom education, skills development, and repetitive practice, the average firefighter spends about 300 hours getting ready for every one hour of actual "doing it".  While we easily remember the calls we have been on, we often overlook the thousands of hours we spent preparing ourselves and our equipment so we could be our best, regardless of what challenges the specific emergency presented.  It wasn't all fun and games ... sometimes is was tedious, grueling, and overwhelming.  Yet somehow, the spirit of  the participants kept it enjoyable.  Individual achievements helped mark the progress of one, while team exercises developed the necessary cooperation required for a department to be effective. It was the teamwork that truly cemented the notion that we were ready to respond to anything.

THE SPECIAL STUFF
Firefighting is enough to keep any group nearly overwhelmed with preparation.  But as we know, the fire service responds to way more than just fires.  It was these special operations that the department performed that I saw as a greater challenge. Most departments provided a special service that they could share mutually with neighboring agencies. I was fortunate enough to be involved in just about every aspect of "special services".  From the Terrapin Trucking Company, FART Van (ask if you must) & Foam Unit in College Park, hazardous materials and technical rescue at Carpenter Technology, and vehicle rescue at West Lawn, and TSVFD, I always enjoyed providing the special services.  Splash in there the extra work with RIT (rapid intervention team) development, firefighter rehab, collapse rescue, and some kick-ass fire prevention programs, I feel like I had a taste of it all during my career.    

THOSE I HELPED GROOM
Probably the greatest feeling is molding a young mind of an aspiring new recruit.  Helping them absorb the knowledge you share is the best way to keep the fire service progressive.  As an instructor, explaining the what, where, why, and how to young minds was always rewarding; watching them hone those newly learned skills during practice sessions was even better.  By far, the greatest feeling is watching them apply what they learned from me when it mattered most... out in the field where someone's live depended on their competence.  As a chief officer, I like to believe that many of my lessons went far beyond fire service academia.  After all, I was not leading machines, I was leading PEOPLE.  My efforts were to help shape the PERSON, not just the firefighter.  So much of what we do is about humanitarianism, integrity, trust, and maturity.  My belief was: "Make great men and women FIRST, so the emergency responder part was easier"
Some had short stays in the fire service.  Fire service life isn't for everyone.  I like to think while they were with us, they appreciated the knowledge I helped them discover.  Others have continued in the emergency services, both volunteer and career.  Several of those have even risen to positions of leadership, where I hope that the things I taught them have positively affected the way they lead, and treat the people under their command. 


THE FRIENDS I MADE ALONG THE WAY
Far beyond the accomplishments and professional relationships I developed during my career, are the friends I have met along the way.  Brothers and sisters who truly were (and some still are) like "brothers and sisters from other mothers and misters".  Many I have stood beside with pride, respect, and love during graduations, weddings, funerals, births, and promotion ceremonies; or sat quietly with during times when life was dealing a blow through family crises, illnesses, job transition, or periods of personal doubt.  As I reflect back on my life, I realize that nearly every person in my life is there because of our shared interest in the emergency services.  If you can trust someone with your life, and they can trust their life in your hands, it makes forming a personal bond almost automatic.
By building these relationships, I never needed to go too far to find someone skilled in a trade to help with a home project.  Plumbers, electricians, roofers, movers, carpenters, mechanics... the fire service is a virtual smorgasbord of great people willing to help.  All you need to do is reciprocate when they reach out for help with the skills you can bring to the table.

Sharing emergency services experiences is a great environment to cultivate friendships, and I am eternally grateful to everyone I befriended during my career. Those who remain close, even after my departure from the fire service, will be cherished friends forever.

I have been recruited to re-enter the emergency services in my new community.  In fact, that is what prompted this reflection of the things I miss.  "So what are you waiting for?" you may ask.  Well, you may need to wait for my next installment of Hittin' the Hot Spot to hear the other side of the decision...

Firehouse Famine - Part 1

Feasting at the firehouse has meant so many different things throughout my career in the fire service.  In the next few installments of “Hittin’ the Hot Spot”, I will recall some of my favorite stories about fighting firehouse famine.  Before you get too excited, these stories are not going to provide you with any new recipes, rather the manner in which the food was acquired and devoured.  I am sure there are more unique stories about food in the firehouse than there are firehouses, and I encourage you all to comment about some of your favorite memories about the people and procedures that helped feed the folks in your station.  

My first stories come from 7507 Baltimore Blvd. in College Park, Maryland.  PGFD Station 12 was my home away from home for 2 ½ years while I attended the University of Maryland.  It was a unique situation for several reasons.  First and foremost, it was a fire station.  There was a career staff on duty during the day from Monday – Friday, but the house was staffed by volunteers the rest of the time.  However, within those vollies were 12 people who actually lived at the fire station in what was called the “Sackroom”.  

Although the Sackroom itself was our little oasis away from all the normal activity of the station, we all shared one kitchen on the main floor.  Every live-in had a portion of a shelf in one of the three refrigerators, and one overhead cabinet.  Although we trusted each other, you wrote your name on everything if you actually wanted to have it there when you were ready to eat it.  Fortunately, there were alliances and partnerships that permitted sharing, but only if you had something of equal value to share.  I remember mass quantities of fish sticks, spaghetti & meatballs, mac & cheese, and P. B. & J’s coming out of that kitchen; at least until grillin’ season.  I never knew how many things could be grilled.  I also realized that I wasn’t the only wacker who enjoyed pretending a good grease fire on the grill was like a mini structure fire.  Nothing wrong with multi-tasking food prep with fire attach practical exercises, right?  I only recall one instance where gear and SCBA was actually deployed, but the squirt bottle got a good workout.

The town had the usual college town temptations as well.  I was particularly fond of Hungry Herman’s steak, egg and cheese hoagie, the Bagel Place’s breakfast sandwiches, and of course, the Domino’s Pizza joint, which was within eyesight of the apparatus ramp if you felt like peering through binoculars and watching your pizza get made.  There was one delivery guy who drove a convertible Jeep who worked every minute that store was open, 7 days a week.  He knew every corner of the campus and town, and never walked.  He even ran the stairs, elevators took too long.  I remember him telling me that he made $90,000 a year, and based on his hustle, I believe him.  I briefly considered a career path adjustment. 

Probably my greatest memory of all was the evening meals during work shifts.  During the summer and over holiday breaks in the college calendar, the fire department would hire three or four vollies to staff the station after the career staff went off duty.  Since most of the active members were college students, the house would get might lonely when everyone went home for the holidays.  It was a pretty good deal, and the selection was usually a competition.  Hang at the fire station AND get paid?  Sign me up!

The shift started at 3:00 p.m., and we had three important tasks to complete at the start of each shift: equipment checks, spot cleaning tasks, and meal planning, but not always in that order.  We would decide on the menu and post it on the chalkboard in the dayroom with a sign-up deadline time.  By 3:30, we could expect phone calls from members trying to decide what they wanted to do for dinner.  If our menu sounded good, they signed up.   

With the afternoon tasks completed, the duty crew would check the sign-up list, and do an impromptu first-due target hazard familiarization of a local grocery store.  Since we were running hot, we always tried to keep the store visit as brief as possible.  Dividing the shopping list (usually by tearing it into portions) made the trip go very quickly.  Back at the station, the preparations and calculations began.  Barring any interruptions by the communication center, our timing was usually spot-on, and we collected cash (usually between 4 and 7 dollars, depending on the menu).

I remember occasionally having leftovers, but not very often.  Either we were good planners or great eaters.  Clean-up was always as smooth as the preparation.  Everyone who ate helped clean up… it was the unwritten rule.  With great teamwork, we could have everything cleaned up and put away in less than 10 minutes.  Only then could we do dessert! 

Those Three Little Words

During my first few months at the College Park fire station in the autumn of 1985, I learned several unique lessons.  Oddly, the most important rule I learned was not one I expected, but have come to truly understand.  It was all about the THREE LITTLE WORDS they never wanted to hear come from your pie hole. 

At first, the use of these three words seemed harmless, and not being allowed to say them felt like a silly, but manageable phase of initiation.  What harm could come from saying them.  They weren’t argumentative, offensive, racist, or harmful words.  They were simple words that would be used to start a sentence, to define a source, to establish validity of a story.  These were words often spoken with pride, yet here, they were poison. 

It soon became apparent that resisting was going to be difficult.  I found myself wanting to use these words … a lot.  As I became more comfortable in my new surroundings, I began to become frustrated by this seemingly ridiculous rule.  I tried and tried, but often had to catch myself as these words escaped my lips.  My frustration led to anger.  How dare these people restrict my language by eliminating these three little words?  I could understand eliminating phrases like, “I don’t think…”, or “I don’t wanna…”, or “Why must I…”, or “I just can’t…”   These negative statements should ALWAYS be avoided by anyone striving to achieve greatness.   In an organization that relies on teamwork, they could be considered rebellious.  Even Jeff Spicoli’s famous line, “I don’t know”, wasn’t restricted.  Thank Goodness Mr. Hand wasn’t a line officer, huh? 

The three words that seemed to get everyone’s panties in a bunch were “Back Home We”.  Nobody cared what you did “back home” at your fire station.  You were here in Prince George’s County, serving as a member of the College Park Volunteer Fire Department.  The only thing that mattered is that you knew how things were done HERE! 

It didn’t take me long to learn why “back home we” was so toxic.  The College Park Station was staffed by students in fire protection curriculums.  We had ALL come from rather progressive departments, and each of us represented the best of the youth from our respective departments.  That’s 12 smart individuals from 12 different departments, most of which did things a little different from the others.  This wasn’t the West Lawn Fire Company, and despite my beliefs at the time, there was always another way to do things.  If the CPVFD allowed the “back home” influence from every one of the probies that walked through their doors, their identity, traditions, reputation and sense of solidarity would be eroded. 

In time, as I progressed through the ranks and I had proven myself to the officers and members of the department, my opinion began to matter.  Once I had firmly implanted myself into the ways of the CPVFD, the knowledge I brought from the WLFC became relevant.  I am proud to say that some ideas that were born in little ‘ol West Lawn Borough were incorporated into programs in the City of College Park.  Eventually I was permitted to say “Back home, we…”, but not before I learned why I couldn’t as the new guy in the house. 

I learned to understand patience, and tolerance for others opinions.  I realized that I was the new guy in town, not the organization.  They had been hosin’ and truckin’ for decades before the mere consideration of my existence.  Despite how smart I thought I was, I thankfully learned that others may be smarter.  The humbling experience of being forced to forget the past and accept the present was a valuable lesson that now, makes all the sense in the world. 

This is a lesson that I have applied numerous times in my life.  As the new guy, I always take the time to get to know the people and the system that is in place, giving them every opportunity to show me what is already in place.  This open-mindedness has helped me learn quite a bit about organizational philosophies as well as individual capabilities.  I only wish others in my recent past would have learned the same lesson of respect that the CPVFD taught me.  THAT story, I will save for another time...

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody.  Enjoy a safe and wonderful time with your family and friends as we celebrate of the "things" we have in life .