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...

The Class A Retaliation

During a recent series of fire extinguisher training classes I was conducting, I recalled an incident from about 10 years ago that I shared with my class.  This story perfectly  demonstrated the simplicity of operating a fire extinguisher. 

There was this real bratty kid named Rebecca that lived down the street.  She was a feisty little know it all 12-year old, with, as you may imagine, very few friends.  It was hard to imagine considering her diminutive size, but this tiny little punk had a real mean, bully streak in her. 

My daughters Ashley and Stephanie were 7 and 11 at the time, and enjoying the early days of their summer break.  One of their favorite activities was sidewalk chalk artwork.  On this particular sunny afternoon, the two of them were in front of the house toiling away at their most recent Technicolor masterpieces of hearts, rainbows and stars when Rebecca the Wrecker paid them a visit. 

It seems that her parents, clearly oblivious to their offspring’s complete lack of respect of others, purchased her the latest version of the “Super-soaker” water pistol and sent her out to play.  If real life were like TV, my daughters would have heard the doomsday music that usually accompanies the villain’s prowling.  Sadly, real life has no soundtrack.  Most of the other kids on the block spotted her in time and decided a bike ride around the block was their best defense.  My girls were caught off-guard; unarmed and defenseless against the Rebecca’s ambush.  The assault was over fairly quickly, and the sneak attack provoked some shrieking and dodging skills (that they sure didn’t get from me), but still left them both peppered with streaks of water before Rebecca’s “clip” ran dry and she needed to retreat to reload at her dad’s garden spigot.  

The Hostetter girls had lost the battle, and their water wounds were extensive.  Even the precious sidewalk art received some damage in the unprovoked attack.  I had caught a glimpse of the battle and anticipated that my girls would be inside in the next few minutes.  I was wrong.  I peered outside about 5 minutes later and there they were, happily drawing on the sidewalk again.

 

That’s when I noticed the two pressurized water extinguishers strategically positioned in the driveway by the side of my truck.  My excitement mounted when I realized what they had up their sleeve.  Part of me was upset that they retrieved the fire extinguishers from my garage where I stored all my training aides without seeking permission, but part of me was thrilled at their spirit and pride.  I relocated to the second floor window with a glass of iced tea and waited to see history unfold before me.  Before long, here came the brat, boldly strolling up the sidewalk with her weapon reloaded and ready for the second wave of assault.  I knew they had a plan.  I could see them watching Rebecca out of the corner of their eye and whispering to each other quietly.  They acted as if they didn’t see the intruder and calmly wandered over to the driveway and assumed their positions, one at the front tire, one at the back tire.  I shook with anticipation as I watched them each break the seal and pull the pin on their extinguishers.  Seconds seemed like hours.  They waited patiently while Rebecca cautiously crept closer. 

 

Finally, they unleashed a wave of retaliation never before witnessed on Whitfield Blvd.  With pinpoint accuracy and synchronized precision they unloaded those cans on their intruder; one around the front of my truck, one around the back of my truck.  Poor little Rebecca never knew what hit her.  Her feeble attempt to fight back with her dribbling stream was no match for the tandem attack from my little firefighters and their 30 foot aquatic range.  She dropped her squirt gun and started running home.  Without hesitation, my girls took off after her, draining every last wheeze of liquid on the back of her obnoxious curly head of hair as she screamed and cried her way home.  Even Mrs. Murray from across the street was laughing at the spectacle, as she saw the entire event unfold from her Adirondack rocker on her front porch. 

Now I wasn’t sure what to do.  I thought about taking them for ice cream to celebrate their bravery and acknowledge them for standing up for themselves, but the story didn’t end there…

Although I expected them to come running into the house pumped with adrenaline, the house remained eerily quiet (never a good sign when you have kids).  Peering out the window, I saw lots of buzzing activity from my two little warriors.  In the garage, into the shed, back to the garage…then silence…  I had to investigate!  Cracking open the door to the garage, I could hear what sounded like Santa’s elves; busy, focused, tapping, clanking of tools, whispered directions…what were they up to? 

Suddenly, the back door opened up and in bounced Stephanie.  She wanted to know if they could get the hose bib turned on so they could use the hose.  A leaky valve prompted me to shut off the feed to the garage faucet a few months ago.  I made a mental note to myself to fix the valve and asked, “Why do you need the hose?”  I must admit, I felt a little guilty deceiving my little girl like that; but I knew they were planning for the next wave of Rebecca Brattypants, and I did not want them to know I saw them with my extinguishers.   “We want to wash up the mess from our chalk!” her little angelic face never cracking from the outright fiberoni she was feeding me.  I played along and turned on the water feed to the garage. 

It was probably 30 minutes later, when the two of them strolled in, as innocent looking as new born babies.  Not a word was spoken of the confrontation that had taken place out front.  Perhaps they were afraid I would be mad that they “fought back”.  Maybe they were afraid they would be angry that they tampered with my extinguishers.  I let them stew over what they had done, and waited for the confession to gurgle out, but it never did.  I soon found out why. 

I went into the garage to check on the extinguishers they had used, knowing that I would find that they had been tampering with them.  That’s when I was stunned with what I saw.  Both extinguishers had been refilled and were back in place on the shelf in the garage.  It took some careful investigation work to realize that they used a milk jug from the recycling can to carefully measure 2 ½ gallons of water to fill them, and the bike pump under the work bench had fresh wet handprints in the dust that covered everything else on the shelf.  They weighed exactly what a full PW should weigh and the pressure gauges were dead on.  The pins were back in place, and they even attempted to reattach the tamper seals! The electrical tape was the giveaway.  

Needless to say, I was a proud poppa.  Not only could they operate a fire extinguisher with the swift accuracy of a seasoned firefighter, they knew (or somehow figured out) how to restore them to service condition.  I had a tear of pride in my eye as I dug out two new seals and completed their field service work.  I never spoke of the incident with them, and they never fessed up to me.  I looked up the statute of limitations on a crime like this, and it is 10 years.  I figure they have about 5 more weeks to keep their secret before there is nothing I can do about it.  I suppose I will finally find out if they ever read my blog.  

I Will Always Remember…

It is one of those moments that I will always remember… 

People always talk about these moments because they capture our hearts with such shock and sadness that they burn an indelible snapshot of time into our souls.  The end of World War II, the Kennedy assassination, the Space Shuttle Challenger explosion, the attack on the World Trade Center and Pentagon are a few examples that many people will always remember.  They can tell you where they were, and how they felt, with chilling accuracy, when they heard the news.  We share these moments because they affected all of us, and we can all relate to the emotions expressed by others.  They united us because of their global impact.

Then there are very personal and private moments we each hold quietly in our memories; the death of a family member or pet, the moment of birth of our children, a marriage proposal, getting our driver’s license.  These moments bond us together in a different way.  We each experienced these moments at some point in our lives, but in our own personal space, in our own personal time.  They are similar stories with similar emotions, but vastly different details, locations, and characters.

Then there are the events in between global and private.  The concentric circles of impact reaching levels of notice globally, levels of sadness regionally, and levels of grief and devastation at the personal level.  I am referencing the tragic assassination of Kyle D. Pagerly.  Kyle was gunned down by a cowardly fugitive whose blatant disregard for human life took from our world, an amazing young man.

It is one of those moments that I will always remember… 

I took the phone call from my department chief that evening with no expectation of the news that would buckle my knees and temporarily drain my face of its blood supply.  This was followed by a wave of changing emotions that overlapped so frequently I lost track of my senses.  I was in denial.  I was in shock.  I was angry.  I was sick to my stomach.  That news derailed my understanding of mankind, and I suspect I will be forever changed by Kyle’s sudden passing. 

Though I was 20 years his senior, I watched Kyle live like few others ever dared.  I admired his energy, his up-beat, can-do attitude.  I watched him grow as a determined fire lieutenant, a loving young husband, a proud patriot, a dedicated public servant, and a friend.  He would have been an amazing father to Savannah Kylie, his daughter that he will never get to hold in his arms.  It doesn’t seem fair that a man with so much love of life was taken from us at such a young age.  The loss of Kyle will sadly be one of those moments we all will remember, but most importantly, his LIFE will be something that will be remembered as well.  Despite his age, and even without his knowledge, Kyle taught me many things about life.  I never had the opportunity to tell him, and I will always regret that.  Perhaps I didn’t realize just how much he taught us all until after he left.  Now, almost 10 months after his tragic death, I still hear his voice, picture his smile, and mourn the fact that he is gone.

I was proud to be on the fringes of his life.  I can only imagine the sadness felt by those even closer to him.  His loving wife, Alecia, is an amazing woman.  I am awed by the strength she shows as she fights through the tears of life without Kyle, always standing proud at the events honoring Kyle’s life. 

Thank you Kyle, for all you have given to your family, friends, associates, co-workers, and comrades. 

Loved my many, forgotten by none!

Please honor Kyle, by rewarding his K-9 partner, Jynx with the honor he earned as well.  Jynx’s actions saved many lives that warm summer evening.  Vote every day at THIS LINK .  Thanks.

Service Engine Soon

She is a faithful girl born in Dearborn, Michigan, who I affectionately call Veronica, and has been with me for over 10 years, despite the abuse I inflict on her.  I wake her up on cold mornings and demand she get moving immediately, I don’t bathe her very often, and I make her carry my crap everywhere we go.  I make her run around in all sorts of weather, leave her in strange places for hours on end, and make her listen to me try to sing along with the music (I change pitch at will, and often make up my own words to songs when I can’t understand the real lyrics).  She complains, but I just turn up the music louder so I can’t hear her whining. I am not a complete monster, though.  I feed her often (she has a voracious appetite), give her plenty of fluids, buy new shoes for her from time to time, and take her for a check-up every year.  Despite her age, she is still in good shape, despite her creaking and groaning, and I love her.

She kept hinting to me that she wasn’t feeling well, and every once in awhile, she blew a fuse.  I placated her, and gave her a new bauble, and that shut her up for awhile, but I knew deep in my heart that something was wrong.  I would always leave some spare change in the cup holder for her, stick on a new tattoo on her rear end and spritz her with some spice scented perfume every now and then, plus there was the occasional snack I would let slip between the seats for her to enjoy.  But I knew our relationship was strained.  The tension was mounting.  She was very bossy every time we went for a ride, always “recalculating”, but never just let me go MY way! 

Recently, she showed me that she was not to be neglected any more.  She broke the news to me as I was trying to turn left in front of a gasoline tanker that was traveling faster than I expected.  Like the cold slap in the face of a “Dear John” letter, she told me it was over!  I had experienced with the dreaded “Check Engine Soon” light before, but never with such drama.  Like the others who were with me before (Bu, Sunshine, Grey, Spookie, and Blackie), our relationship seemed to have reached the end.  I begged with her, and swore at her, and finally at the last moment, she lurched forward, and saved my life.  Maybe she still did love me? 

I took her outburst and immediately headed for some long-overdue therapy.  The “doctor” heard the symptoms, took some tests, and told me what I had known all along.  It was her, not me that had flaws… 10 of them to be exact!  He referred me to a specialist, and naturally, this would not be covered by her insurance.  Fortunately, she only had a few screws loose, and before long, she was back in my arms.

We had a long talk that night, and I promised her I would be more attentive to her needs.  I will try to be more responsive to her minor complaints.  Better yet, I have vowed to be thoughtful enough to know what she needs BEFORE she needs it, and tend to those needs promptly.  She is mine, for better or worse, in good times and bad, till death do us part.    

How do you manage your relationships?  Are you attentive to the little hints and your intuition or do you wait for the buzzers and flashing warning lights?  Take it from me (and Ben Franklin), “a stitch in time, saves nine”.  So listen carefully to your partner, and take preemptive action as necessary.  Work together, communicate often, and treat each other with kindness.  Meanwhile, check back later when I blog about properly maintaining your automobile.