Tim O. Casey's Blog
April 13, 2013
New Firemen maybe Smarter, but are they Better?
There is a life cycle for a firefighter. Some people say as a child, I want to be a firefighter when I grow up and they do. Some like me fall into it and now a days there is a new type of firefighter, the well educated-advanced-degree-holding-uncommitted-I-need-a-job-for-now kind.
The old model of a career minded firefighter was just that, a career, a job to do for 25 to 30 years and then retire, get a gold badge and hang up the uniform. That is what I did and that is what many before me did. I may have fallen in to the profession but once there I loved it most of the time.
As a recruit or new guy, you go through a cycle. For a period of time you are the low man on the pole so to speak. Your life consists of listening more than you speak, doing every grunt job nobody else does like cleaning the bathroom and you have to earn your way in.
Nobody before you was handed anything and guess what? Nobody is going to hand you anything now. It is the custom, you are an unknown quantity, we know you went through the academy and learned all the basic skills but guess what new guy? We don’t do it that way, we do it our way and we have to retrain you.
I had a FNG, read F***ing new guy, that told me I was taking a plug wrong during a drill, I let it go until we got back to the station and then asked him to explain the ways of my error.
“Well the way we learned it in the academy, was that the hose must always wrap around the fire hydrant clockwise, that way if it comes loss it will fly in a direction away from you.” Said the FNG.
“Sweet, gosh thanks for telling me that I could have really hurt myself or someone else, huh?” I said.
“I guess. That is why we were taught that way.” He said.
“Let me throw a little wrinkle on that idea. What if the plug is up against a fence, a road sing, or on the side of an over grown hill? What if it is buried in a fitzer bush or a huge cactus or a car is parked there in your way, then what kid? You not gonna get us water, let us burn?” I asked.
“I uh---- I guess I’d think of something else.” He stammered.
“But that would be breaking the rules you learned in the academy. What if your training officer found out? You’d be in deep shit then, wouldn’t you?” I kind of barked.
“I---- don’t know how to answer that sir.” He said.
“Okay let’s get some stuff clear. First don’t call me sir, that is what you call the Lou not me. Second I’m glad you learned all this stuff in the academy, are you in the academy now?” I asked.
“No si---- firefighter Casey.” He said.
“Just Tim will do, and right, you aren’t in the academy any more, you’re in the house, the Hero House, and you ain’t no hero yet either. So we have a great opportunity today, to get you a fresh start kid, you get to unlearn all that crap they stuffed in your head out there, okay?” I asked. He really had no idea what to say at this point, he just stood there flat footed.
“Okay?” I said.
“Yes-----Tim, okay.” He said.
“Good, now whenever it crosses your pea-brain to correct my technique during a drill or at a real fire, resist that urge, I mean really resist it, with all your might and I don’t care if a freaking chimney is about to fall on my ass, keep your mouth shut kid. Are we clear on this?” I said.
“Yes------ Tim.” He said.
“Yes Tim what?” I asked.
“Yes---- sir----Tim I mean, I understand.” He said.
“Understand what?” I asked.
“I understand I should let stuff fall on you.” He said.
“No! Look kid I like you, kind of. I am asking you to watch the senior guys around you, see how they do stuff and don’t compare what we do out here to what you learned out of the books, okay? Just watch and learn if you have a question wait for the right time to ask it.” I said. He looked even more lost now.
“What?” I asked.
“When is the right time?” he asked.
“When we aren’t working on it, when we get back to the house, when the fire is out, or when we are on route to quarters, that’s when you ask, oh, and don’t ask me either.” I said. He went blank again. I just waited for him to process his question.
“Then who should I ask------Tim?” he asked.
“Your freaking officer kid, I’m not your boss, I’m not the guy doing your evals, he is. Ask him, you see it gives him something to write down about you? They are looking for you to have questions; they want to write positive stuff about you. But you have to ask questions about stuff, so they think you are on the ball. See?” I said.
“Yes I see Tim.” He said.
“Good now don’t let this happen again.” I walked away.
That is how it went with new guys. We had to retrain them in the field to keep them safe. Book knowledge is a great place to start as it is on any new job. The difference with we of the brotherhood, is that a mistake on the fire ground can not only kill the new guy, it can take a lot of people out quickly.
I’m going to do a series of posts here about on the life cycle of firefighters, so I’m not leaving you hanging here, I’ll tell you more in the days to come. So check back soon.
The old model of a career minded firefighter was just that, a career, a job to do for 25 to 30 years and then retire, get a gold badge and hang up the uniform. That is what I did and that is what many before me did. I may have fallen in to the profession but once there I loved it most of the time.
As a recruit or new guy, you go through a cycle. For a period of time you are the low man on the pole so to speak. Your life consists of listening more than you speak, doing every grunt job nobody else does like cleaning the bathroom and you have to earn your way in.
Nobody before you was handed anything and guess what? Nobody is going to hand you anything now. It is the custom, you are an unknown quantity, we know you went through the academy and learned all the basic skills but guess what new guy? We don’t do it that way, we do it our way and we have to retrain you.
I had a FNG, read F***ing new guy, that told me I was taking a plug wrong during a drill, I let it go until we got back to the station and then asked him to explain the ways of my error.
“Well the way we learned it in the academy, was that the hose must always wrap around the fire hydrant clockwise, that way if it comes loss it will fly in a direction away from you.” Said the FNG.
“Sweet, gosh thanks for telling me that I could have really hurt myself or someone else, huh?” I said.
“I guess. That is why we were taught that way.” He said.
“Let me throw a little wrinkle on that idea. What if the plug is up against a fence, a road sing, or on the side of an over grown hill? What if it is buried in a fitzer bush or a huge cactus or a car is parked there in your way, then what kid? You not gonna get us water, let us burn?” I asked.
“I uh---- I guess I’d think of something else.” He stammered.
“But that would be breaking the rules you learned in the academy. What if your training officer found out? You’d be in deep shit then, wouldn’t you?” I kind of barked.
“I---- don’t know how to answer that sir.” He said.
“Okay let’s get some stuff clear. First don’t call me sir, that is what you call the Lou not me. Second I’m glad you learned all this stuff in the academy, are you in the academy now?” I asked.
“No si---- firefighter Casey.” He said.
“Just Tim will do, and right, you aren’t in the academy any more, you’re in the house, the Hero House, and you ain’t no hero yet either. So we have a great opportunity today, to get you a fresh start kid, you get to unlearn all that crap they stuffed in your head out there, okay?” I asked. He really had no idea what to say at this point, he just stood there flat footed.
“Okay?” I said.
“Yes-----Tim, okay.” He said.
“Good, now whenever it crosses your pea-brain to correct my technique during a drill or at a real fire, resist that urge, I mean really resist it, with all your might and I don’t care if a freaking chimney is about to fall on my ass, keep your mouth shut kid. Are we clear on this?” I said.
“Yes------ Tim.” He said.
“Yes Tim what?” I asked.
“Yes---- sir----Tim I mean, I understand.” He said.
“Understand what?” I asked.
“I understand I should let stuff fall on you.” He said.
“No! Look kid I like you, kind of. I am asking you to watch the senior guys around you, see how they do stuff and don’t compare what we do out here to what you learned out of the books, okay? Just watch and learn if you have a question wait for the right time to ask it.” I said. He looked even more lost now.
“What?” I asked.
“When is the right time?” he asked.
“When we aren’t working on it, when we get back to the house, when the fire is out, or when we are on route to quarters, that’s when you ask, oh, and don’t ask me either.” I said. He went blank again. I just waited for him to process his question.
“Then who should I ask------Tim?” he asked.
“Your freaking officer kid, I’m not your boss, I’m not the guy doing your evals, he is. Ask him, you see it gives him something to write down about you? They are looking for you to have questions; they want to write positive stuff about you. But you have to ask questions about stuff, so they think you are on the ball. See?” I said.
“Yes I see Tim.” He said.
“Good now don’t let this happen again.” I walked away.
That is how it went with new guys. We had to retrain them in the field to keep them safe. Book knowledge is a great place to start as it is on any new job. The difference with we of the brotherhood, is that a mistake on the fire ground can not only kill the new guy, it can take a lot of people out quickly.
I’m going to do a series of posts here about on the life cycle of firefighters, so I’m not leaving you hanging here, I’ll tell you more in the days to come. So check back soon.
March 30, 2013
Don't Take Credit for God's Work, Just be Grateful.
As Easter rolls around again I am reminded of a call that nearly cost me my job. Years ago just days after Easter my crew was called to a difficulty breathing call. Yeah that was all the information we got as was the situation many times. Not that dispatch didn’t want us to have more information; sometimes a little info was all they could gather.
We arrived emergent at a nice suburban home and were greeted by a near hysterical mother and a somewhat calm dad. They quickly explained that their teenage son wasn’t breathing. As we entered the living room I saw the boy on the floor. He was tiny for his age and obviously had some sort of physical condition.
He had sever kyphosis a curvature of the spine, something like you see in the elderly where they have a huge hump below the base of their head. He was on the floor on his back and ghostly white.
The first question any paramedic asks themselves about a patient is simple; we ask is the person sick or not sick. Because of experience a good medic or EMT can tell in seconds if the person is sick and this kid was very sick.
As I approached him I could see that he had a pulse because of his slender neck his carotid artery was visible and pulsing. So I knew we didn’t have a cardiac arrest, yet. His body was very small and malformed he was less than fifty pounds but due to his outward appearance I could tell he was well past puberty.
His mother began telling us what had happened as I instructed my crew to begin protecting his airway. Mom said her son had a muscle disorder like MS or MD but didn’t really narrow it down. She explained she had picked her son up from school in his wheelchair and on the way home he had fallen asleep so she let him nap in the car.
Dad came home and when he went to check on his son he found him unconscious and not breathing so he had carried him in the house and called us. The first thing to do is check vitals and secure a patients airway. His vitals were all down and his oxygen levels as measured by a pulse oximetry was in the low 60’s, that isn’t good.
The first thing my guys tried was an oral airway device, this caused the boy to begin to gag, next option is a nasal tube, both are designed to help us push oxygen into the lungs with a bag valve mask, it too caused him to gag. So we were out of options at this point to use basic techniques to help him breath.
It is paramount that we gain control of a patient’s airway, in this condition if the boy were to vomit he would aspirate stomach contents into his lungs and even if that happens even to a fit person it can spell huge problems later.
As I considered my options I remember looking at the Easter decorations around the home and thinking of God. I was prone to praying for all my patients but really praying for the ones that I probably couldn’t help.
My next option was a procedure known as a cricothyrotomy, many people believe can we do a tracheotomy in the field but we can’t. A cric as we call it is like a tracheotomy only different, we have to use a scalpel to make a small hole in the neck right at the Adam’s Apple and then push a small plastic tube in to the airway.
I had done this on a conscious person before and it was horrible, the boy wasn’t conscious but because of his condition this wasn’t an option either, I couldn’t even tell where his Adam’s Apple was. About that time the ambulance crew arrived and much to my relief the paramedic on the ambulance was one of the few that had been on the streets longer than me.
I filled him in quickly as to what was happening and told him I felt the only thing we could do was what is known as an RSI, a rapid sequence intubation. An RSI is kind of scary on your average patient but on this kid it was not only going to be difficult, it was going to break the law.
You see an RSI requires that the paramedics completely paralyze the person with a series of drugs administered in a precise order. There are some rules or standing orders associated with an RSI; first you must have complete confidence that you will be able to get a tube in to the airway of the patient.
We knew we didn’t have that, mom had already said good luck with that as it normally takes numerous tries in the hospital to get him intubated. Second one of the drugs we needed to use was absolutely contraindicated for use in people with muscular disorders, this is known as a Black Box Warning by the FDA.
So what were to do? Let the kid die or break some rules? We chose to break some rules. About that time mom passed out in the kitchen and slammed her jaw on the back of a chair. I redirected my crew to care for her and myself and the other medic (I would use his name but I don’t have his permission, but he is one of the very best and still on the streets of my home town, thanks CS) rushed the boy to the ambulance.
We knew what we had to do and went to it. It went horribly wrong for us in many ways as we tried every known technique to intubate this kid without success. The good news was that once paralyzed it became very easy to bag oxygen into the boy’s lungs. His color went from gray to pink and his oxygen leaves increased to the mid 90%. We called ahead to the hospital and asked to have an anesthesiologist in the emergency room when we got there.
We finally used another device known as an LMA to secure his airway and it worked beautifully, thank God.
Myself and the other medic were subjected to an intense review for our actions and only avoided firing and criminal prosecution because of one thing.
The kid lived. So every Easter I think of that day and that boy and my friend (CS) and know that God is great.
We arrived emergent at a nice suburban home and were greeted by a near hysterical mother and a somewhat calm dad. They quickly explained that their teenage son wasn’t breathing. As we entered the living room I saw the boy on the floor. He was tiny for his age and obviously had some sort of physical condition.
He had sever kyphosis a curvature of the spine, something like you see in the elderly where they have a huge hump below the base of their head. He was on the floor on his back and ghostly white.
The first question any paramedic asks themselves about a patient is simple; we ask is the person sick or not sick. Because of experience a good medic or EMT can tell in seconds if the person is sick and this kid was very sick.
As I approached him I could see that he had a pulse because of his slender neck his carotid artery was visible and pulsing. So I knew we didn’t have a cardiac arrest, yet. His body was very small and malformed he was less than fifty pounds but due to his outward appearance I could tell he was well past puberty.
His mother began telling us what had happened as I instructed my crew to begin protecting his airway. Mom said her son had a muscle disorder like MS or MD but didn’t really narrow it down. She explained she had picked her son up from school in his wheelchair and on the way home he had fallen asleep so she let him nap in the car.
Dad came home and when he went to check on his son he found him unconscious and not breathing so he had carried him in the house and called us. The first thing to do is check vitals and secure a patients airway. His vitals were all down and his oxygen levels as measured by a pulse oximetry was in the low 60’s, that isn’t good.
The first thing my guys tried was an oral airway device, this caused the boy to begin to gag, next option is a nasal tube, both are designed to help us push oxygen into the lungs with a bag valve mask, it too caused him to gag. So we were out of options at this point to use basic techniques to help him breath.
It is paramount that we gain control of a patient’s airway, in this condition if the boy were to vomit he would aspirate stomach contents into his lungs and even if that happens even to a fit person it can spell huge problems later.
As I considered my options I remember looking at the Easter decorations around the home and thinking of God. I was prone to praying for all my patients but really praying for the ones that I probably couldn’t help.
My next option was a procedure known as a cricothyrotomy, many people believe can we do a tracheotomy in the field but we can’t. A cric as we call it is like a tracheotomy only different, we have to use a scalpel to make a small hole in the neck right at the Adam’s Apple and then push a small plastic tube in to the airway.
I had done this on a conscious person before and it was horrible, the boy wasn’t conscious but because of his condition this wasn’t an option either, I couldn’t even tell where his Adam’s Apple was. About that time the ambulance crew arrived and much to my relief the paramedic on the ambulance was one of the few that had been on the streets longer than me.
I filled him in quickly as to what was happening and told him I felt the only thing we could do was what is known as an RSI, a rapid sequence intubation. An RSI is kind of scary on your average patient but on this kid it was not only going to be difficult, it was going to break the law.
You see an RSI requires that the paramedics completely paralyze the person with a series of drugs administered in a precise order. There are some rules or standing orders associated with an RSI; first you must have complete confidence that you will be able to get a tube in to the airway of the patient.
We knew we didn’t have that, mom had already said good luck with that as it normally takes numerous tries in the hospital to get him intubated. Second one of the drugs we needed to use was absolutely contraindicated for use in people with muscular disorders, this is known as a Black Box Warning by the FDA.
So what were to do? Let the kid die or break some rules? We chose to break some rules. About that time mom passed out in the kitchen and slammed her jaw on the back of a chair. I redirected my crew to care for her and myself and the other medic (I would use his name but I don’t have his permission, but he is one of the very best and still on the streets of my home town, thanks CS) rushed the boy to the ambulance.
We knew what we had to do and went to it. It went horribly wrong for us in many ways as we tried every known technique to intubate this kid without success. The good news was that once paralyzed it became very easy to bag oxygen into the boy’s lungs. His color went from gray to pink and his oxygen leaves increased to the mid 90%. We called ahead to the hospital and asked to have an anesthesiologist in the emergency room when we got there.
We finally used another device known as an LMA to secure his airway and it worked beautifully, thank God.
Myself and the other medic were subjected to an intense review for our actions and only avoided firing and criminal prosecution because of one thing.
The kid lived. So every Easter I think of that day and that boy and my friend (CS) and know that God is great.
June 30, 2012
Scumbags are robbing the homes of Colorado Firefighters while they are fighting the fire.
So can you believe this one? Criminals are targeting the homes of firefighters fighting the Waldo Canyon fire in Colorado Springs CO. for break-ins and robberies.
Is there a lower form of life than a scumbag that would rob the house of a firefighter fighting to keep them safe? This news makes me sick to my stomach. Should these dirt bags be apprehended I am struggling with ideas for a fitting punishment.
The notion of some form of burning or public flogging comes to mind. Nothing that would lead to death but defiantly something that included long periods of pain and humiliation.
Now I’m not sure if these same cockroaches are responsible for another heinous crime, but I suspect they are. The victims of the fire that had only moments to flee the raging fire were forced to grab what they could from their homes and leave.
Many have taken up residence in local hotels and motels and guess what, their vehicles are being targeted by thieves for break-ins as well. I am sure the criminal mind sees this as an amazing opportunity for reward. A reward that entitles them to a special place in hell.
I hope they enjoy the crack, heroin, crystal, or whatever it is they buy with suffering of other human beings. I also hope they overdose on it and contract HIV, hepatitis and sexually transmitted disease from the reckless sex they enjoy while high.
I hope they become haunted by visions of tormented souls and never rest in peace another day in their lives. I want them to have their drug addled minds filled with torment and anguish, I wish insanity and misery on their rotten souls that is assuming animals like these have souls.
I simply can’t imagine how a person could do this. I think under these circumstances that forming a vigilante group to patrol the parking lots of these hotels and motels would be a reasonable response. It would allow the victims to sleep well and would allow a properly motivated group of people the chance to break some kneecaps.
I would gladly and lightly restrain these douchbags until the proper authorities could arrive. As a retired firefighter/paramedic I would be able to keep them alive until they could be incarcerated.
This so enrages me I am beside myself with anger. I can’t put into words how this strips me to my very core, how this insights my thoughts to violence as I am not a violent man. I spent my whole career helping strangers and even sometimes friends and just have no concept of this kind of behavior. I am shaking as I write this.
I will spend some time in prayer today for my friends, the victims and the criminals.
On another note a friend I talked to today asked if my daughters might have some clothing and toys to give to a 6 year old girl that had lost everything in the fire other than the clothes on her back. Another friend mentioned that at his son’s baseball game this morning there were two little boys that couldn’t play because all of their equipment had been destroyed by fire as well.
So I thought, how can I help? I came up with an idea. On July 14 2012 I am organizing a Christmas in July toy and clothing drive for the children that have lost everything to the fire.
Many of my friends in the media are already on board to help get the word out and the idea is exploding. I will keep you all posted on the event as it advances, so stay tuned.
Maybe I can help some good to come out of this terrible fire.
Is there a lower form of life than a scumbag that would rob the house of a firefighter fighting to keep them safe? This news makes me sick to my stomach. Should these dirt bags be apprehended I am struggling with ideas for a fitting punishment.
The notion of some form of burning or public flogging comes to mind. Nothing that would lead to death but defiantly something that included long periods of pain and humiliation.
Now I’m not sure if these same cockroaches are responsible for another heinous crime, but I suspect they are. The victims of the fire that had only moments to flee the raging fire were forced to grab what they could from their homes and leave.
Many have taken up residence in local hotels and motels and guess what, their vehicles are being targeted by thieves for break-ins as well. I am sure the criminal mind sees this as an amazing opportunity for reward. A reward that entitles them to a special place in hell.
I hope they enjoy the crack, heroin, crystal, or whatever it is they buy with suffering of other human beings. I also hope they overdose on it and contract HIV, hepatitis and sexually transmitted disease from the reckless sex they enjoy while high.
I hope they become haunted by visions of tormented souls and never rest in peace another day in their lives. I want them to have their drug addled minds filled with torment and anguish, I wish insanity and misery on their rotten souls that is assuming animals like these have souls.
I simply can’t imagine how a person could do this. I think under these circumstances that forming a vigilante group to patrol the parking lots of these hotels and motels would be a reasonable response. It would allow the victims to sleep well and would allow a properly motivated group of people the chance to break some kneecaps.
I would gladly and lightly restrain these douchbags until the proper authorities could arrive. As a retired firefighter/paramedic I would be able to keep them alive until they could be incarcerated.
This so enrages me I am beside myself with anger. I can’t put into words how this strips me to my very core, how this insights my thoughts to violence as I am not a violent man. I spent my whole career helping strangers and even sometimes friends and just have no concept of this kind of behavior. I am shaking as I write this.
I will spend some time in prayer today for my friends, the victims and the criminals.
On another note a friend I talked to today asked if my daughters might have some clothing and toys to give to a 6 year old girl that had lost everything in the fire other than the clothes on her back. Another friend mentioned that at his son’s baseball game this morning there were two little boys that couldn’t play because all of their equipment had been destroyed by fire as well.
So I thought, how can I help? I came up with an idea. On July 14 2012 I am organizing a Christmas in July toy and clothing drive for the children that have lost everything to the fire.
Many of my friends in the media are already on board to help get the word out and the idea is exploding. I will keep you all posted on the event as it advances, so stay tuned.
Maybe I can help some good to come out of this terrible fire.
April 22, 2012
To date a Firefighter, you have to find a Firefighter first.
{EAV:4888bad7f1d43471}The fire station is still going to be the richest environment to find your guy, but maybe the damsel in distress isn’t you way. What other strategy might you employ?
Do you have a kid or one you can borrow for an afternoon? When I say kid you need one of the appropriate age, too young and your cover story will be obvious, babies aren’t fascinated with all things fireman. Too old and you run the risk of your sister’s disenfranchised teenage son busting you on your quest to land a fireman.
Pick a kid any kid, doesn’t matter the sex, little girls can grow up to be miserable, insufferable, unsatisfied employees just like the guys too. Now the set up is going to be critical, this kid is going to require sufficient post firehouse bribes to not blow your cover.
Make it a good reward you want to keep your coconspirator on task. I have seen a woman turn a brighter shade of firetruck red when her innocent assistant blurted out “Which fireman are you picking Aunt Betty? I wanna go get my ice cream now.”
With a well coached kid in place select your fire station; you should have already preplanned this visit so that you know you are entering a target rich environment. You haven’t preplanned yet you say? Okay let’s cover that.
Preplanning is going to be essential; you don’t want to walk into a firehouse full of old married dudes, or worse yet one with a few women on the crew. Total waste of time, you need to find one with higher odds of single young aggressive alpha males, and where are these?
They are going to be first and foremost a multiple company station, a station with at least two companies residing there, more if you are lucky. Why? Simple more BRTs equal more men.
Just keep your eyes open as you travel your community. Best time to go on an expedition is going to be mid morning on warm days. First, the big garage doors are opened most mornings to air out the station before it gets too warm. Secondly on nice days rolling the trucks outside is just a more pleasant time to do our checks and wash the BRTs.
Keep your eyes open for likely candidates. If you are lucky there might be an inconspicuous business within viewing distance a 7-11 or a Starbucks perhaps, pull in and take a minute to observe your quarry. At this point my advice may sound a bit stalkery and to be truthful it is.
You want one of these guys I don’t, I’m just giving you my best advice on how to get one, and you won’t be the first to try this, I’m not inventing what I’m telling you, I’m sharing proven tactics confessed from the very mouths of successful fireman hunters.
Many of these women (the ones without restraining orders on them) are now proud owners of their very own firefighter. I have heard their confessions voiced while under the influence and in the company of other bragging owners. They tell how easy it was to capture the attention of their intended victim, child’s play they say.
That’s good news if you think about it and I want you to be encouraged here, don’t be a scaredy cat. Lesser women than you have lead successful hunts.
Once you have located what looks to be a target rich environment deploy the kid. The best times for your excursion are going to be after lunch or dinner as most officers allow some downtime following meals and they guys likely won’t be engaged in training or some other distraction. Weekends are also a good time as a more casual work place is allowed on these days.
Just ring the doorbell and wait. Ringing the doorbell will bring nearly the entire crew to the door. This is because people often walk or drive to the fire station with emergencies for some reason and we never now.
Secondly the whole crew shows up because there might be a hot chick at the door, truth. You will know if you are considered a hot chick by the number of men that stay to interact with you. If most wander away, that is a good thing. The unavailable and older men aren’t going to be bothered with a tour for some kid.
The single, cheery, and interested men will be overly happy to show off their stuff for the kid. Understand there will be an immediate assessment of your availability. Is she wearing a ring? Is this your child if so why didn’t daddy come along?
This isn’t the first time this will have happened at the station. We have seen it before and we Know what is happening if you are single and that’s okay we welcome it, and know this, the majority of the time your actions will be viewed as a compliment and you will be safe with these men, nothing will happen if you don’t want it to.
The child will have a memorable day and get to do a bunch of stuff ever kids should get to do. We love being heroes for kids it the best part of the job, and showing off for an attractive female, well that goes without saying.
You are in. Now any further action will be squarely in your court. If you have found a suitable candidate that you would like to test drive, you know what to do, unless you have no skills as a woman, and if that be the case, you have no business trying to land one of these beasts. Get out while you can.
I can assure that in the confines of the fire station you will encounter nothing but gentlemen. Once outside the red brick walls I will offer no guarantee.
More to follow on Friday. Cheers.
Do you have a kid or one you can borrow for an afternoon? When I say kid you need one of the appropriate age, too young and your cover story will be obvious, babies aren’t fascinated with all things fireman. Too old and you run the risk of your sister’s disenfranchised teenage son busting you on your quest to land a fireman.
Pick a kid any kid, doesn’t matter the sex, little girls can grow up to be miserable, insufferable, unsatisfied employees just like the guys too. Now the set up is going to be critical, this kid is going to require sufficient post firehouse bribes to not blow your cover.
Make it a good reward you want to keep your coconspirator on task. I have seen a woman turn a brighter shade of firetruck red when her innocent assistant blurted out “Which fireman are you picking Aunt Betty? I wanna go get my ice cream now.”
With a well coached kid in place select your fire station; you should have already preplanned this visit so that you know you are entering a target rich environment. You haven’t preplanned yet you say? Okay let’s cover that.
Preplanning is going to be essential; you don’t want to walk into a firehouse full of old married dudes, or worse yet one with a few women on the crew. Total waste of time, you need to find one with higher odds of single young aggressive alpha males, and where are these?
They are going to be first and foremost a multiple company station, a station with at least two companies residing there, more if you are lucky. Why? Simple more BRTs equal more men.
Just keep your eyes open as you travel your community. Best time to go on an expedition is going to be mid morning on warm days. First, the big garage doors are opened most mornings to air out the station before it gets too warm. Secondly on nice days rolling the trucks outside is just a more pleasant time to do our checks and wash the BRTs.
Keep your eyes open for likely candidates. If you are lucky there might be an inconspicuous business within viewing distance a 7-11 or a Starbucks perhaps, pull in and take a minute to observe your quarry. At this point my advice may sound a bit stalkery and to be truthful it is.
You want one of these guys I don’t, I’m just giving you my best advice on how to get one, and you won’t be the first to try this, I’m not inventing what I’m telling you, I’m sharing proven tactics confessed from the very mouths of successful fireman hunters.
Many of these women (the ones without restraining orders on them) are now proud owners of their very own firefighter. I have heard their confessions voiced while under the influence and in the company of other bragging owners. They tell how easy it was to capture the attention of their intended victim, child’s play they say.
That’s good news if you think about it and I want you to be encouraged here, don’t be a scaredy cat. Lesser women than you have lead successful hunts.
Once you have located what looks to be a target rich environment deploy the kid. The best times for your excursion are going to be after lunch or dinner as most officers allow some downtime following meals and they guys likely won’t be engaged in training or some other distraction. Weekends are also a good time as a more casual work place is allowed on these days.
Just ring the doorbell and wait. Ringing the doorbell will bring nearly the entire crew to the door. This is because people often walk or drive to the fire station with emergencies for some reason and we never now.
Secondly the whole crew shows up because there might be a hot chick at the door, truth. You will know if you are considered a hot chick by the number of men that stay to interact with you. If most wander away, that is a good thing. The unavailable and older men aren’t going to be bothered with a tour for some kid.
The single, cheery, and interested men will be overly happy to show off their stuff for the kid. Understand there will be an immediate assessment of your availability. Is she wearing a ring? Is this your child if so why didn’t daddy come along?
This isn’t the first time this will have happened at the station. We have seen it before and we Know what is happening if you are single and that’s okay we welcome it, and know this, the majority of the time your actions will be viewed as a compliment and you will be safe with these men, nothing will happen if you don’t want it to.
The child will have a memorable day and get to do a bunch of stuff ever kids should get to do. We love being heroes for kids it the best part of the job, and showing off for an attractive female, well that goes without saying.
You are in. Now any further action will be squarely in your court. If you have found a suitable candidate that you would like to test drive, you know what to do, unless you have no skills as a woman, and if that be the case, you have no business trying to land one of these beasts. Get out while you can.
I can assure that in the confines of the fire station you will encounter nothing but gentlemen. Once outside the red brick walls I will offer no guarantee.
More to follow on Friday. Cheers.
April 16, 2012
Top ten tips on how to date a firefighter
Over the years (married and single) I had many women friends that wanted me to introduce them to firefighter friends, they wanted to date a fireman.
There were no shortages of eligible firefighters that I knew and they came in all shapes and sizes, old and young, nice and not so nice. I did introduce quite a few friends and arrange things like double dates (when married) and wingman dates when single.
Some of these meetings were very successful and lead to long term dating, others not so much. So what did the failures have in common? I’m going to try and give you a few tips on how it works.
I must post a warning here before I begin. Know what you are getting into dating a firefighter. These men (I’ll stick to male firefighters that’s what I know) may come in many different packages but for the vast majority the job will be their first love.
Their boys, the men they hang with have a huge impact on their lives and you will at first be dating him and his boys. We do want each other to find happiness and find a woman. But that woman has to fit the group, nothing worse than a nightmare girlfriend to create havoc in the team, and if you piss off his friends he will be put in a position at some point of picking you or them, and if you do that it will end poorly.
DON’T and I repeat don’t expect to change these men, if you discover in the first few months of dating a firefighter that with your help and few minor adjustments you can turn him into your dream guy, let him go right then.
These men live in a world you cannot imagine, not just the “doing it” part of the job, but the whole thing, the life style of a firefighter, and remember that life is one of the things you find desirable, it’s why you want to date them to begin with. Leave it alone. If it is going to work out they will adjust on their own, but pushing early is a deal breaker.
1)Firefighters are used to stress at work unbelievable stress some days. So when you start dating one don’t add stress. Keep conversations light, avoid serious topics or overly intellectual subjects. I’m not saying we can’t have an intelligent conversation, we can. But during down time, when we are having fun we don’t want solve world hunger, we want to laugh and have some cocktails.
The easiest conversation is to have him talk about himself. Why is he a firefighter? What is the best part about the job? Has he ever been scared at a big call? Another warning don’t go deep here last thing you want to do trigger a memory of some horror he has seen. Get to know the man, he wants to be accepted as the man doing the job, not as a character in a movie.
2)Know that at some point you will be run by his crew, his buddies for a group evaluation. This can happen in two ways, the best thing you can hope for is an invitation to visit the station. You might even suggest it in a non-stalker way. Tell him you would love to see where he works, or ask if you might bring some cookies by the station.
If he jumps at the suggestion and offers a good time to do that you’re in. It will be after normal duty hours generally after the evening meal, when we have some down time. Understand the testosterone laden environment you will be entering, you will rightly or wrongly be evaluated on your attractiveness.
So don’t over dress, unless you and your girlfriends are hit the clubs for a Friday night and if you are bring your girls along. Nothing like making the night for a bunch of hardworking men by having some pretty women stop by the house, remember there could be more single guys there. But ask first, if he agrees, bring it on. If he is hesitant or unsure drop it and go by yourself.
The other introduction to his guys will be the meeting out on the town. We have our favorite watering holes and stomping grounds, once again be prepared for what is to come. For the most part firefighters are still gentlemen and will treat a lady with respect.
But we also need a woman that has some back bone that can give it back, this is not a good environment for wall flowers. You will be tested by his alternates, this will be a feeling out to see how you handle yourself, it also gives him a chance to step in and rescue you. If someone goes too far in the conversation he’ll stop it in a joking way. You passed that test.
And for goodness sakes don’t get drunk. Getting drunk will lead to merciless harassment for him the next time he is on duty. You will be ridiculed and he will be embarrassed. So have a good time but stay in control.
So I thought I could fit more tips into one post but as always I am long winded in an effort to be through. I see I will have to break these tips into a few posts, and please any of my married friends bare with me as I do this, I know you don’t want a firefighter, but maybe you have a friend that does, so share.
There were no shortages of eligible firefighters that I knew and they came in all shapes and sizes, old and young, nice and not so nice. I did introduce quite a few friends and arrange things like double dates (when married) and wingman dates when single.
Some of these meetings were very successful and lead to long term dating, others not so much. So what did the failures have in common? I’m going to try and give you a few tips on how it works.
I must post a warning here before I begin. Know what you are getting into dating a firefighter. These men (I’ll stick to male firefighters that’s what I know) may come in many different packages but for the vast majority the job will be their first love.
Their boys, the men they hang with have a huge impact on their lives and you will at first be dating him and his boys. We do want each other to find happiness and find a woman. But that woman has to fit the group, nothing worse than a nightmare girlfriend to create havoc in the team, and if you piss off his friends he will be put in a position at some point of picking you or them, and if you do that it will end poorly.
DON’T and I repeat don’t expect to change these men, if you discover in the first few months of dating a firefighter that with your help and few minor adjustments you can turn him into your dream guy, let him go right then.
These men live in a world you cannot imagine, not just the “doing it” part of the job, but the whole thing, the life style of a firefighter, and remember that life is one of the things you find desirable, it’s why you want to date them to begin with. Leave it alone. If it is going to work out they will adjust on their own, but pushing early is a deal breaker.
1)Firefighters are used to stress at work unbelievable stress some days. So when you start dating one don’t add stress. Keep conversations light, avoid serious topics or overly intellectual subjects. I’m not saying we can’t have an intelligent conversation, we can. But during down time, when we are having fun we don’t want solve world hunger, we want to laugh and have some cocktails.
The easiest conversation is to have him talk about himself. Why is he a firefighter? What is the best part about the job? Has he ever been scared at a big call? Another warning don’t go deep here last thing you want to do trigger a memory of some horror he has seen. Get to know the man, he wants to be accepted as the man doing the job, not as a character in a movie.
2)Know that at some point you will be run by his crew, his buddies for a group evaluation. This can happen in two ways, the best thing you can hope for is an invitation to visit the station. You might even suggest it in a non-stalker way. Tell him you would love to see where he works, or ask if you might bring some cookies by the station.
If he jumps at the suggestion and offers a good time to do that you’re in. It will be after normal duty hours generally after the evening meal, when we have some down time. Understand the testosterone laden environment you will be entering, you will rightly or wrongly be evaluated on your attractiveness.
So don’t over dress, unless you and your girlfriends are hit the clubs for a Friday night and if you are bring your girls along. Nothing like making the night for a bunch of hardworking men by having some pretty women stop by the house, remember there could be more single guys there. But ask first, if he agrees, bring it on. If he is hesitant or unsure drop it and go by yourself.
The other introduction to his guys will be the meeting out on the town. We have our favorite watering holes and stomping grounds, once again be prepared for what is to come. For the most part firefighters are still gentlemen and will treat a lady with respect.
But we also need a woman that has some back bone that can give it back, this is not a good environment for wall flowers. You will be tested by his alternates, this will be a feeling out to see how you handle yourself, it also gives him a chance to step in and rescue you. If someone goes too far in the conversation he’ll stop it in a joking way. You passed that test.
And for goodness sakes don’t get drunk. Getting drunk will lead to merciless harassment for him the next time he is on duty. You will be ridiculed and he will be embarrassed. So have a good time but stay in control.
So I thought I could fit more tips into one post but as always I am long winded in an effort to be through. I see I will have to break these tips into a few posts, and please any of my married friends bare with me as I do this, I know you don’t want a firefighter, but maybe you have a friend that does, so share.
April 11, 2012
It's hard being a Firefighter, it's harder when you are weird.
When the weakness of a firefighter is discovered, it is exploited by some for the entertainment of the rest. I was an exploiter. I worked with many unusual people myself counted in that statement.
Some had strange behaviors around the way they ate, slept, exercised, read, talked, you name it there was someone on the job with a different way of doing it, a way most would describe as not normal.
Here is another uniqueness of the fire service, because we do live with our co-workers for 24 hour periods, we get to observe things about each other that normal co-workers don’t get to know about each other.
The nine to fivers don’t have the opportunities that we do to first learn what makes each other tic, and second don’t have the opportunity take advantage of this knowledge like we do.
One guy I worked with had more oddities than Ripley. Spanky was a man of smaller stature but the interesting thing about him was that he didn’t suffer from small man syndrome like so many mini firefighters did.
His proclivities centered more in the way he liked his personal stuff arranged. I believe it was more of an OCD issue than anything else. The control needed to be OCD in the unpredictable world of the fire station had to be a tremendous burden for him.
At the outset of his career like all new guys he had to be tolerant of harassment. He tried very hard to disguise he weaknesses and not give clues to their existence so pretty much knowledge of his short comings were made by accident.
Like the first time I noticed by sheer luck that he was particular about his eating utensils. We were preparing for a meal and Spanky had his place setting arranged for the meal. I was seated next to him; I didn’t have a fork so just messing with him I grabbed his fork like I was going to use it.
Then gave it back, for a moment he didn’t know how to react.
“Keep it I’ll get another one.” He said.
“No Spanky I’ll get my own.” I grabbed another nearby fork and began to eat. Spanky sat motionless a few minutes holding the fork but not eating.
“You don’t like my cooking asked?” Asked Grumpy George.
“No it’s fine.” Said Spanky, still not eating.
“Then dig in kid.” Now because of George’s question and Spanky’s lack of action the whole crew became aware of Spanky not eating, all eyes were on him now and the shoveling of food by others stopped.
“Yeah I’ll eat, I just gotta get a drink first.” Said Spanky. But Spanky had a glass of water in front of him. So when he got up and went to the sink fork in hand we were all watching.
He got to the sink, opened a cabinet and retrieved a drinking glass and as he went to fill it with water he tried to make it look like an accident he was dropping his fork in the sink.
“Opps.” He said as he deliberately disposed of the fork and then he grabbed a fresh fork out of the silverware drawer. He returned to the table and with a fresh fork began to eat.
“Dude, did you throw that fork away because I touched it?” I asked.
“I didn’t throw it away, I dropped it on accident and just grabbed a new one is all.” Spanky’s voice wasn’t holding up and his body language screamed I’m lying.
“You did you little shit, you threw away a perfectly good fork because I touched it. What do I got germs or something?”
“No man it was just an accident. Had nothing to do with you touching my fork.”
“Then let me touch that one.” I reached for his fork and he jerked it away from my reach.
“No man you don’t need to touch my fork. Can I just eat my dinner?”
Fast Ricky was sitting on the other side of Spanky, so when Spanky pulled his fork away from me he moved it right into Fast Ricky’s range. He was called Fast Ricky for a reason, he had cat like reflexes.
Just like that Ricky had Spanky’s fork. Then he just handed it right back to Spanky. Now Spanky had a choice, fight through his OCD and use the offending fork, or get up and get a new one.
“Well you gonna eat?” Ricky asked.
Spanky was frozen with fear. He hadn’t come to us as a kid, he was a grown man and had worked in the real world before joining us, and Spanky was no dummy, he was an intelligent man.
He started slowly.
“Okay look, it’s nothing personal, I just have a germ problem. I didn’t see if you guys washed your hands before dinner and so I don’t like people touching my stuff if they haven’t washed their hands, that’s all.”
The Captain was Old Weird so he was well acquainted with strange behavior. Difference was he was the captain.
“You know Fred (that was Spanky’s real name and being a captain Old Weird didn’t engage in nicknames for the most part) you picked a strange career path for a germ-a-phobe. You do understand we deal with germs on a daily basis?”
“Yes sir I know that and I’m prepared to handle that.”
I reached over and touched his plate now.
“Man that’s wrong, why’d you touch my plate?” Spanky asked. He was now becoming agitated.
“I washed my hands Spanky, it’s cool. I promise. I was in the bathroom taking a pee and then when I got done… wait, now I’m not sure, maybe I didn’t wash hands. Did I wash my hands Ricky, you were in there with me?”
“Naw you didn’t, I know because neither one of us did, we were talking about the call when George called dinner and we came right over to the kitchen.”
“I think you are right, I’ll wash ‘em now.” I got up and went over to the sink and washed my hands, then dried my hands on my pants.
“Better?” I asked Spanky.
Spanky got up from the table and went to the trash can, he scrapped his meal off the plate and into the trash.
From that day forward, Spanky always ate last. He would wait for everyone else to serve themselves, then retrieve his plate and silverware at the last minute and eat standing at the counter. When he cleared probation he began brown bagging and ate his meals alone and at off times to avoid the rest of us.
Some had strange behaviors around the way they ate, slept, exercised, read, talked, you name it there was someone on the job with a different way of doing it, a way most would describe as not normal.
Here is another uniqueness of the fire service, because we do live with our co-workers for 24 hour periods, we get to observe things about each other that normal co-workers don’t get to know about each other.
The nine to fivers don’t have the opportunities that we do to first learn what makes each other tic, and second don’t have the opportunity take advantage of this knowledge like we do.
One guy I worked with had more oddities than Ripley. Spanky was a man of smaller stature but the interesting thing about him was that he didn’t suffer from small man syndrome like so many mini firefighters did.
His proclivities centered more in the way he liked his personal stuff arranged. I believe it was more of an OCD issue than anything else. The control needed to be OCD in the unpredictable world of the fire station had to be a tremendous burden for him.
At the outset of his career like all new guys he had to be tolerant of harassment. He tried very hard to disguise he weaknesses and not give clues to their existence so pretty much knowledge of his short comings were made by accident.
Like the first time I noticed by sheer luck that he was particular about his eating utensils. We were preparing for a meal and Spanky had his place setting arranged for the meal. I was seated next to him; I didn’t have a fork so just messing with him I grabbed his fork like I was going to use it.
Then gave it back, for a moment he didn’t know how to react.
“Keep it I’ll get another one.” He said.
“No Spanky I’ll get my own.” I grabbed another nearby fork and began to eat. Spanky sat motionless a few minutes holding the fork but not eating.
“You don’t like my cooking asked?” Asked Grumpy George.
“No it’s fine.” Said Spanky, still not eating.
“Then dig in kid.” Now because of George’s question and Spanky’s lack of action the whole crew became aware of Spanky not eating, all eyes were on him now and the shoveling of food by others stopped.
“Yeah I’ll eat, I just gotta get a drink first.” Said Spanky. But Spanky had a glass of water in front of him. So when he got up and went to the sink fork in hand we were all watching.
He got to the sink, opened a cabinet and retrieved a drinking glass and as he went to fill it with water he tried to make it look like an accident he was dropping his fork in the sink.
“Opps.” He said as he deliberately disposed of the fork and then he grabbed a fresh fork out of the silverware drawer. He returned to the table and with a fresh fork began to eat.
“Dude, did you throw that fork away because I touched it?” I asked.
“I didn’t throw it away, I dropped it on accident and just grabbed a new one is all.” Spanky’s voice wasn’t holding up and his body language screamed I’m lying.
“You did you little shit, you threw away a perfectly good fork because I touched it. What do I got germs or something?”
“No man it was just an accident. Had nothing to do with you touching my fork.”
“Then let me touch that one.” I reached for his fork and he jerked it away from my reach.
“No man you don’t need to touch my fork. Can I just eat my dinner?”
Fast Ricky was sitting on the other side of Spanky, so when Spanky pulled his fork away from me he moved it right into Fast Ricky’s range. He was called Fast Ricky for a reason, he had cat like reflexes.
Just like that Ricky had Spanky’s fork. Then he just handed it right back to Spanky. Now Spanky had a choice, fight through his OCD and use the offending fork, or get up and get a new one.
“Well you gonna eat?” Ricky asked.
Spanky was frozen with fear. He hadn’t come to us as a kid, he was a grown man and had worked in the real world before joining us, and Spanky was no dummy, he was an intelligent man.
He started slowly.
“Okay look, it’s nothing personal, I just have a germ problem. I didn’t see if you guys washed your hands before dinner and so I don’t like people touching my stuff if they haven’t washed their hands, that’s all.”
The Captain was Old Weird so he was well acquainted with strange behavior. Difference was he was the captain.
“You know Fred (that was Spanky’s real name and being a captain Old Weird didn’t engage in nicknames for the most part) you picked a strange career path for a germ-a-phobe. You do understand we deal with germs on a daily basis?”
“Yes sir I know that and I’m prepared to handle that.”
I reached over and touched his plate now.
“Man that’s wrong, why’d you touch my plate?” Spanky asked. He was now becoming agitated.
“I washed my hands Spanky, it’s cool. I promise. I was in the bathroom taking a pee and then when I got done… wait, now I’m not sure, maybe I didn’t wash hands. Did I wash my hands Ricky, you were in there with me?”
“Naw you didn’t, I know because neither one of us did, we were talking about the call when George called dinner and we came right over to the kitchen.”
“I think you are right, I’ll wash ‘em now.” I got up and went over to the sink and washed my hands, then dried my hands on my pants.
“Better?” I asked Spanky.
Spanky got up from the table and went to the trash can, he scrapped his meal off the plate and into the trash.
From that day forward, Spanky always ate last. He would wait for everyone else to serve themselves, then retrieve his plate and silverware at the last minute and eat standing at the counter. When he cleared probation he began brown bagging and ate his meals alone and at off times to avoid the rest of us.
April 9, 2012
How to lead from the rear.
I’m sure most don’t think firefighting, or firefighters haven’t changed all that much over the years. I have written about some of the changes I witnessed over my career and pointed out some of the subtle changes I have seen.
But I was reminded again this weekend of how it really has changed in some profound ways. There was an Easter party for the families and children of firefighters and having three children I elected to take the kids for some fun.
Since publishing my first book about the fire service and my times as a firefighter I have had many reactions to the book. The majority have been overwhelmingly positive, but the biggest negative reaction has come from my former coworkers, and that is fine everyone is entitled to their opinion, hell firefighters can’t agree on what TV show to watch, let alone a piece of writing.
I did hesitate to go to the Easter party as I have had some less than kind treatment at the hands of my detractors, but the kids wanted to go, so off we went. So here is one of the changes I noticed, the fire service is huge on their notion of all of us being a second family.
We recite the statement as if learned from a sacred ceremony at the altar of fire, it is one of the largest traditions of our storied career; we are a second family to our brothers and sisters in the service. Quite frankly I have to call bull shit on that one these days.
My former department is a group of men and women that numbers over 400 members. At this family gathering of our second family I saw the same dozen firefighters and their wives that pull these events off year after year, doing it again.
Lumpy and his wife, Cindy and Paul, Nolove, and so on. What I didn’t see was a single gold badge. Not that anyone was wearing a badge, but you get my drift. No chief officers, not one. Now granted I didn’t stay for the whole event but we were there for nearly three hours, long enough to have noticed if a chief would have attended.
That made me think, are there two second families on the job now? Is there a second family for firefighters? Because I saw plenty of mid-level officers mixing with their crews, many union members with their kids, but no chiefs.
The health of the organization I believe can be measured by this observation. The chiefs either don’t feel comfortable mixing with the working firefighters, or more likely don’t feel it necessary to expose themselves to their employees in a non-professional environment.
When I began my career this same department was half the size it is now. But you know what, when you went to the Christmas party or the summer picnic it was a full house and you know what else? The chief was there, the big chief and other than the duty chiefs all most all the chiefs were there. They at the very least put in an appearance, had a beer, shook some hands, acknowledged, how much your boy had grown or how pretty your daughter had become.
They still mixed the common man or woman doing the job, the people that were really going inside burning buildings. They were a part of that mythical second family, they were one of us.
Now I can see if you are sporting a wagon wheel of a golden badge that your commitment to the job as an executive is time consuming. It probably drags on you 24/7; you are dealing with budgets, and discipline, and the Mayor, and tax payers, and so on.
But guess what? You took that damned badge, you said yes to all that misery because you wanted it, you wanted to be the big. Well now you are the big, and the thought that hey I work hard the rest of the week, I never get a break, so you know what I’m skipping the party, that one don’t fly with me.
It doesn’t look powerful, confident, or like being a leader, it looks cowardly it looks like fear to me, like you are afraid to mix with those doing the job, those most at risk.
See what happens when you are an unpopular fire chief like this one, when you go to a departmental party like this, two things will happen I guarantee it. First is you will get shunned, oh people will say hi and shake your hand if you get close enough to them, and then they will slip away quickly.
Second thing, some firefighter will confront you about your poor decisions as they see it. Because outside the glass walls of his office building the chief can be perceived by some as human, and they will take this opportunity to confront him.
So it’s easier to stay home. Well being the fire chief isn’t meant to be easy; it’s a damn hard job especially when you make it hard on yourself. Firefighters aren’t stupid people, and they know what the absence of every fire chief to one of their parties’ means, it means we don’t care.
It means we don’t have to explain ourselves to you and they don’t that is true. But more importantly it means that we lead from desk chairs, we lead from the infamous fire SUV, we lead from the rear boys, follow us.
Well I’m retired now and I may have it all wrong. But what I do know is this, one day all of the leaders will retire just like me, and they will be forgotten quickly for the good they did do. But they will be remembered for the way they acted or didn’t act, and when their name is spoken of in a firehouse it will be with the recollections of perception.
And then one day their neighbor will introduce them to a friend as my neighbor who used to be a fireman, and then what? Where will that second family be on that day?
But I was reminded again this weekend of how it really has changed in some profound ways. There was an Easter party for the families and children of firefighters and having three children I elected to take the kids for some fun.
Since publishing my first book about the fire service and my times as a firefighter I have had many reactions to the book. The majority have been overwhelmingly positive, but the biggest negative reaction has come from my former coworkers, and that is fine everyone is entitled to their opinion, hell firefighters can’t agree on what TV show to watch, let alone a piece of writing.
I did hesitate to go to the Easter party as I have had some less than kind treatment at the hands of my detractors, but the kids wanted to go, so off we went. So here is one of the changes I noticed, the fire service is huge on their notion of all of us being a second family.
We recite the statement as if learned from a sacred ceremony at the altar of fire, it is one of the largest traditions of our storied career; we are a second family to our brothers and sisters in the service. Quite frankly I have to call bull shit on that one these days.
My former department is a group of men and women that numbers over 400 members. At this family gathering of our second family I saw the same dozen firefighters and their wives that pull these events off year after year, doing it again.
Lumpy and his wife, Cindy and Paul, Nolove, and so on. What I didn’t see was a single gold badge. Not that anyone was wearing a badge, but you get my drift. No chief officers, not one. Now granted I didn’t stay for the whole event but we were there for nearly three hours, long enough to have noticed if a chief would have attended.
That made me think, are there two second families on the job now? Is there a second family for firefighters? Because I saw plenty of mid-level officers mixing with their crews, many union members with their kids, but no chiefs.
The health of the organization I believe can be measured by this observation. The chiefs either don’t feel comfortable mixing with the working firefighters, or more likely don’t feel it necessary to expose themselves to their employees in a non-professional environment.
When I began my career this same department was half the size it is now. But you know what, when you went to the Christmas party or the summer picnic it was a full house and you know what else? The chief was there, the big chief and other than the duty chiefs all most all the chiefs were there. They at the very least put in an appearance, had a beer, shook some hands, acknowledged, how much your boy had grown or how pretty your daughter had become.
They still mixed the common man or woman doing the job, the people that were really going inside burning buildings. They were a part of that mythical second family, they were one of us.
Now I can see if you are sporting a wagon wheel of a golden badge that your commitment to the job as an executive is time consuming. It probably drags on you 24/7; you are dealing with budgets, and discipline, and the Mayor, and tax payers, and so on.
But guess what? You took that damned badge, you said yes to all that misery because you wanted it, you wanted to be the big. Well now you are the big, and the thought that hey I work hard the rest of the week, I never get a break, so you know what I’m skipping the party, that one don’t fly with me.
It doesn’t look powerful, confident, or like being a leader, it looks cowardly it looks like fear to me, like you are afraid to mix with those doing the job, those most at risk.
See what happens when you are an unpopular fire chief like this one, when you go to a departmental party like this, two things will happen I guarantee it. First is you will get shunned, oh people will say hi and shake your hand if you get close enough to them, and then they will slip away quickly.
Second thing, some firefighter will confront you about your poor decisions as they see it. Because outside the glass walls of his office building the chief can be perceived by some as human, and they will take this opportunity to confront him.
So it’s easier to stay home. Well being the fire chief isn’t meant to be easy; it’s a damn hard job especially when you make it hard on yourself. Firefighters aren’t stupid people, and they know what the absence of every fire chief to one of their parties’ means, it means we don’t care.
It means we don’t have to explain ourselves to you and they don’t that is true. But more importantly it means that we lead from desk chairs, we lead from the infamous fire SUV, we lead from the rear boys, follow us.
Well I’m retired now and I may have it all wrong. But what I do know is this, one day all of the leaders will retire just like me, and they will be forgotten quickly for the good they did do. But they will be remembered for the way they acted or didn’t act, and when their name is spoken of in a firehouse it will be with the recollections of perception.
And then one day their neighbor will introduce them to a friend as my neighbor who used to be a fireman, and then what? Where will that second family be on that day?
April 6, 2012
Weakness in Firefighters will not be Tolerated
Firefighters have to be cautious about how they show weakness in the fire house. I don’t mean physical weakness, although that will become self evident after awhile, I mean weakness of mind, body, or spirit.
Any weakness will be exploited by your co-workers as a tool for torment, entertainment, and sabotage. Firefighters will pry, dig, and investigate your defenses over and over until they find that “thing” that one little defect in your character that bugs you.
Once located the “thing” will be explored, much in the same way an enemy force uses small reconnaissance units to probe a foe’s defenses, firefighters will, at first test their discovery for its true depth.
Being aware of this proclivity in firefighters, I as a newbie decided that rather than have my true weaknesses reveled, I would offer up a false irritant to my tormentor as a distraction and as a way to play the game on my terms.
The member of my crew with the job description of Grand Inquisitor was none other than my old buddy Billy-Bob. I believe this is where our dysfunctional relationship first took root and 25 years later.
Billy-Bob being the country bumpkin he was found himself chronically surrounded city slickers. Refined people, educated people, people that used a knife and fork to eat, and people that only used toilet paper once and the threw it away.
We used to say that somewhere in America there was a village desperately searching for their idiot and that we had him, all they had to do was contact us and we would gladly pay for his bus ticket back to whence he came. Billy-Bob didn’t like me right from the beginning, probably because of my vocabulary, I had a tendency to use big words like “it” and “the” correctly in my sentences which frustrated him.
Billy made it his mission to try and find the character defect I possessed that he could exploit for the purpose of torment. He was very stealthy for a big man and his subtle ways made his actions nearly impossible to detect.
While we were eating lunch one afternoon he made his approach.
“What bugs you kid?” he asked.
Having not yet suffered the many lessons I was to acquire over my career in dealing with the not so nimble minded I quickly and without looking at the long term consequences of my actions answered. If you recall the events that lead me to becoming a firefighter in the first place, it was based on shooting my mouth off to a previous employer.
“Well Billy-Bob, I guess world hunger and man’s inhumanity to man, bothers me. I’m frustrated that the Peter Principle is in fact true, and what really gets me is that in society today being well read means you have subscription to People magazine and the National Enquirer.”
He sat there blinking his eyes between shovel full loads of enchiladas.
“You being smart with me kid? Cause you are still on probation and I do have some input with the captain on your evaluations. Right Cap?”
Captain Tubby was reading one of his Louis L'Amour novels there at the table. Without looking up from his paperback Captain Tubby answered.
“Whatever you say Billy.”
“See kid. So without being a smartass tell me, what bugs you, really?”
I took a quick bite of enchilada and used a mouthful of food as an excuse not to talk for a moment. I had a choice to continue showing off with the Hillbilly or to provide a satisfactory answer that would allow him to win and for me to survive.
“Okay Billy, I’ll tell you what really bugs me. That damn country music you keep blasting all day long on the radio. There are other people that work here that might want a little variety in their musical selections.”
In those days the rules on TV viewing were much stricter than they are today. Back then the TV was only on after 5:00 PM and on weekends. So most firehouses had a centrally located radio that provided background noise during the day.
Billy-Bob being the old bull insisted that the radio be tuned to both kinds of music, country and western all day long. What I told Billy-Bob was a lie; in fact I had grown up on country music as my father had a country band, Clyde Casey and the Trail Riders performed all summer long at a tourist venue in the Garden of the Gods, and had cut a few albums as well.
I was a stagehand, worked the spot lights, and set up the mics for sound checks all summer long. I can’t say I was still a huge fan of country music but it sure wasn’t water boarding when it came to a form of torture. But it was a sufficient enough answer to give Billy a course of action to pursue.
“Is that so? The new kid doesn’t like my music. Well maybe I can help you learn to love the only true music for real Americans.”
And with that Billy-Bob made sure the radio was tuned at all times to the local country station. We did engage in a battle once or twice over the radio station for the next few weeks. As the new guy I pretty much had to do the dishes after every meal by myself, no dishwasher back then.
I held the position that if I was doing the dishes, I could at least be allowed to change the station while I was working and everybody else was having their afternoon naps.
So when the crew retired to the lounge for their siesta I would lower the volume on the radio and change the station. I got away with it once or twice but it would inevitably be discovered by Billy-Bob and with a lecture from Billy the station would be switched back to country.
This went on for months, and I have to say the false character defect I provided to Billy satisfied his desire to screw with me. Then one day he days busted me singing along to a popular song.
“What are you doing there new guy?” he said.
“What?” I answered.
“You’re singing along. I thought you hated this stuff?”
He had me cornered for a second as I did like the song and knew all the lyrics.
“You know what it is Billy; you have made me listen to so much of this shit it’s rubbed off on me.” He grinned a huge grin.
“Well we’ll have to do something about that then won’t we?” He turned up the volume and walked out of the room.
Any weakness will be exploited by your co-workers as a tool for torment, entertainment, and sabotage. Firefighters will pry, dig, and investigate your defenses over and over until they find that “thing” that one little defect in your character that bugs you.
Once located the “thing” will be explored, much in the same way an enemy force uses small reconnaissance units to probe a foe’s defenses, firefighters will, at first test their discovery for its true depth.
Being aware of this proclivity in firefighters, I as a newbie decided that rather than have my true weaknesses reveled, I would offer up a false irritant to my tormentor as a distraction and as a way to play the game on my terms.
The member of my crew with the job description of Grand Inquisitor was none other than my old buddy Billy-Bob. I believe this is where our dysfunctional relationship first took root and 25 years later.
Billy-Bob being the country bumpkin he was found himself chronically surrounded city slickers. Refined people, educated people, people that used a knife and fork to eat, and people that only used toilet paper once and the threw it away.
We used to say that somewhere in America there was a village desperately searching for their idiot and that we had him, all they had to do was contact us and we would gladly pay for his bus ticket back to whence he came. Billy-Bob didn’t like me right from the beginning, probably because of my vocabulary, I had a tendency to use big words like “it” and “the” correctly in my sentences which frustrated him.
Billy made it his mission to try and find the character defect I possessed that he could exploit for the purpose of torment. He was very stealthy for a big man and his subtle ways made his actions nearly impossible to detect.
While we were eating lunch one afternoon he made his approach.
“What bugs you kid?” he asked.
Having not yet suffered the many lessons I was to acquire over my career in dealing with the not so nimble minded I quickly and without looking at the long term consequences of my actions answered. If you recall the events that lead me to becoming a firefighter in the first place, it was based on shooting my mouth off to a previous employer.
“Well Billy-Bob, I guess world hunger and man’s inhumanity to man, bothers me. I’m frustrated that the Peter Principle is in fact true, and what really gets me is that in society today being well read means you have subscription to People magazine and the National Enquirer.”
He sat there blinking his eyes between shovel full loads of enchiladas.
“You being smart with me kid? Cause you are still on probation and I do have some input with the captain on your evaluations. Right Cap?”
Captain Tubby was reading one of his Louis L'Amour novels there at the table. Without looking up from his paperback Captain Tubby answered.
“Whatever you say Billy.”
“See kid. So without being a smartass tell me, what bugs you, really?”
I took a quick bite of enchilada and used a mouthful of food as an excuse not to talk for a moment. I had a choice to continue showing off with the Hillbilly or to provide a satisfactory answer that would allow him to win and for me to survive.
“Okay Billy, I’ll tell you what really bugs me. That damn country music you keep blasting all day long on the radio. There are other people that work here that might want a little variety in their musical selections.”
In those days the rules on TV viewing were much stricter than they are today. Back then the TV was only on after 5:00 PM and on weekends. So most firehouses had a centrally located radio that provided background noise during the day.
Billy-Bob being the old bull insisted that the radio be tuned to both kinds of music, country and western all day long. What I told Billy-Bob was a lie; in fact I had grown up on country music as my father had a country band, Clyde Casey and the Trail Riders performed all summer long at a tourist venue in the Garden of the Gods, and had cut a few albums as well.
I was a stagehand, worked the spot lights, and set up the mics for sound checks all summer long. I can’t say I was still a huge fan of country music but it sure wasn’t water boarding when it came to a form of torture. But it was a sufficient enough answer to give Billy a course of action to pursue.
“Is that so? The new kid doesn’t like my music. Well maybe I can help you learn to love the only true music for real Americans.”
And with that Billy-Bob made sure the radio was tuned at all times to the local country station. We did engage in a battle once or twice over the radio station for the next few weeks. As the new guy I pretty much had to do the dishes after every meal by myself, no dishwasher back then.
I held the position that if I was doing the dishes, I could at least be allowed to change the station while I was working and everybody else was having their afternoon naps.
So when the crew retired to the lounge for their siesta I would lower the volume on the radio and change the station. I got away with it once or twice but it would inevitably be discovered by Billy-Bob and with a lecture from Billy the station would be switched back to country.
This went on for months, and I have to say the false character defect I provided to Billy satisfied his desire to screw with me. Then one day he days busted me singing along to a popular song.
“What are you doing there new guy?” he said.
“What?” I answered.
“You’re singing along. I thought you hated this stuff?”
He had me cornered for a second as I did like the song and knew all the lyrics.
“You know what it is Billy; you have made me listen to so much of this shit it’s rubbed off on me.” He grinned a huge grin.
“Well we’ll have to do something about that then won’t we?” He turned up the volume and walked out of the room.
April 5, 2012
Devil in the Chimney cont.
I looked at Stormy.
“Go get the pump can and a carryall.” Stormy hurried away as I turned my attention back to the man.
“Hey mister… I’m sorry I never got your name. What is your name?”
“Ronald, Ronald Jackson.”
“Well Mr. Jackson, can I ask you a question?” The screams now were combined with rough coughing and gagging as the fire began to grow. I edged closer.
“You stay put son.”
“Okay Mr. Jackson I’m staying. But doesn’t the devil live in hell?”
He raised his eyebrows.
“No he be living in my damn fireplace right now.” He held the poker up like a batter.
“Okay, but I would think the devil is used to fire and smoke by now wouldn’t you? I don’t think it would make him cough and scream like that, I think he’d like it.”
Mr. Jackson lowered the poker just a bit. Then we heard it.
“Please Uncle, Hep me.”
“Mr. Jackson do you have a nephew that lives here with you?” I asked as Stormy ran back in with the pump can and carryall.
“Yes I do.”
“Well the devil just called you uncle.”
Mr. Jackson dropped the poker and turned to the fire.
“Ronnie is that you up my chimney?”
“Hep me uncle I’m burning.”
Mr. Jackson tried to paw at the fire I pulled him back as Stormy and Tommy (the Driver of engine 8) quickly threw out the carryall in front of the fireplace.
Mr. Jackson struggled with me trying to break free from my grasp and help his nephew.
“Put the damn fire out my Ronnie’s burning up in there.” He was a handful.
“Mr. Jackson we have to pull the fire out of the fireplace, if we squirt water on it now it will make steam go up the chimney and burn your nephew worse. Just relax and let us help him.”
He continued to fight me as Stormy, Tommy and captain Tubby pulled the burning lumber out on to the carryall by hand. As soon as the firebox was almost empty they pulled the carryall away a few feet and Stormy sprayed it with water.
Ronnie’s screams faded into pleas for help. The fire went out quickly.
“If I let go of you Mr. Jackson you promise to stay out the way and let us help Ronnie?” He began to cry and sagged in my arms now.
“I killed Ronnie.”
“You didn’t kill anyone. Listen he’s still alive, hear him?”
Mr. Jackson collapsed, sobbing; I set him down in a chair.
Captain Tubby was now leaned over looking up the chimney with his flashlight as I go to him.
“Well Cap, what do we have?” I asked. Without looking away from the chimney he answered me.
“We got some scorched Nikes and now way out from this end.” Captain Tubby righted himself.
“We need to go to the roof. This fella is gonna have to come out the way he went in.”
“Should we call animal control Cap?”
He gave me a WTF look.
“For the reindeer, we’re gonna need someone to take care of the reindeer.”
“Get your ass on the roof TimO. Animal control? Funny.”
Stormy, Tommy and I dragged the smoldering carryall outside just in time to see Captain Tubby have a chat with the cops, he got real close to them.
“Either one of you assholes actually look in the fireplace?” They seemed dumbfounded at the question.
“No? I could tell by the stupid looks on your faces. Call your sergeant I’ll need to speak with him after we pull the real person out of the chimney that you didn’t look for while you were laughing at the poor old drunk starting the fire that probably burned the guy.” Tubby stomped away leaving the two cops frightened and still.
Captain Tubby was old school he let a lot of stuff slide that in the long run wasn’t important. But he didn’t suffer fools well, and those cops would find out the hard way when we were done and Tubby had spoken to their supervisor.
Two big eyes blinked at me from halfway down the chimney.
“Let me guess, you are Ronnie.”
“Yes sir I’m Ronnie.”
“You okay Ronnie, you burned or hurt?”
“I’m really hot sir, but I don’t think I’m burned. I’m just stuck really bad, when I slipped I kinda fell and now I’m stuck.”
“I know this is gonna sound stupid but why are you in the chimney?”
“Well sir, I was drinking with my uncle down at the bar and I wanted to go home and he wanted to stay. So I walked home and when I got here I remembered I didn’t have a key. So then it came to me, if Santa can do it maybe I could too.”
Tubby huff and puffed his way up next to me.
“F**ing cops smoking and joking. What if he’d got that fire going before we got here? I’m gonna have some ass. What do we got here TimO?”
“Well Cap, Ronnie here got locked out and tried the Santa routine to get in.”
“Can we pull him out?” the Cap was now peering down at Ronnie.
“Can you move kid?” Tubby asked.
“No sir, I’m stuck real good.”
Tubby straightened himself and slipped a little almost going down in the snow on the roof.
“We can’t pull him out and this roof is gonna get one of us killed.” Tubby thought awhile looking the whole situation over.
“Just take it apart TimO, you guys get some ropes and tie off, make sure you are secure and then just take it apart brick by brick. I’ll call truck 8 over here to help.”
The Truckies arrived at the same time as Chief Rip and the PD sergeant.
This was decidedly Truckie work, those guys can tear anything apart. The Truckies went to work and in minutes, and I mean minutes they had that chimney not only disassembled but neatly stacked on the roof and Ronnie was a free and unhurt man.
I think about that call every Christmas can’t help myself.
“Go get the pump can and a carryall.” Stormy hurried away as I turned my attention back to the man.
“Hey mister… I’m sorry I never got your name. What is your name?”
“Ronald, Ronald Jackson.”
“Well Mr. Jackson, can I ask you a question?” The screams now were combined with rough coughing and gagging as the fire began to grow. I edged closer.
“You stay put son.”
“Okay Mr. Jackson I’m staying. But doesn’t the devil live in hell?”
He raised his eyebrows.
“No he be living in my damn fireplace right now.” He held the poker up like a batter.
“Okay, but I would think the devil is used to fire and smoke by now wouldn’t you? I don’t think it would make him cough and scream like that, I think he’d like it.”
Mr. Jackson lowered the poker just a bit. Then we heard it.
“Please Uncle, Hep me.”
“Mr. Jackson do you have a nephew that lives here with you?” I asked as Stormy ran back in with the pump can and carryall.
“Yes I do.”
“Well the devil just called you uncle.”
Mr. Jackson dropped the poker and turned to the fire.
“Ronnie is that you up my chimney?”
“Hep me uncle I’m burning.”
Mr. Jackson tried to paw at the fire I pulled him back as Stormy and Tommy (the Driver of engine 8) quickly threw out the carryall in front of the fireplace.
Mr. Jackson struggled with me trying to break free from my grasp and help his nephew.
“Put the damn fire out my Ronnie’s burning up in there.” He was a handful.
“Mr. Jackson we have to pull the fire out of the fireplace, if we squirt water on it now it will make steam go up the chimney and burn your nephew worse. Just relax and let us help him.”
He continued to fight me as Stormy, Tommy and captain Tubby pulled the burning lumber out on to the carryall by hand. As soon as the firebox was almost empty they pulled the carryall away a few feet and Stormy sprayed it with water.
Ronnie’s screams faded into pleas for help. The fire went out quickly.
“If I let go of you Mr. Jackson you promise to stay out the way and let us help Ronnie?” He began to cry and sagged in my arms now.
“I killed Ronnie.”
“You didn’t kill anyone. Listen he’s still alive, hear him?”
Mr. Jackson collapsed, sobbing; I set him down in a chair.
Captain Tubby was now leaned over looking up the chimney with his flashlight as I go to him.
“Well Cap, what do we have?” I asked. Without looking away from the chimney he answered me.
“We got some scorched Nikes and now way out from this end.” Captain Tubby righted himself.
“We need to go to the roof. This fella is gonna have to come out the way he went in.”
“Should we call animal control Cap?”
He gave me a WTF look.
“For the reindeer, we’re gonna need someone to take care of the reindeer.”
“Get your ass on the roof TimO. Animal control? Funny.”
Stormy, Tommy and I dragged the smoldering carryall outside just in time to see Captain Tubby have a chat with the cops, he got real close to them.
“Either one of you assholes actually look in the fireplace?” They seemed dumbfounded at the question.
“No? I could tell by the stupid looks on your faces. Call your sergeant I’ll need to speak with him after we pull the real person out of the chimney that you didn’t look for while you were laughing at the poor old drunk starting the fire that probably burned the guy.” Tubby stomped away leaving the two cops frightened and still.
Captain Tubby was old school he let a lot of stuff slide that in the long run wasn’t important. But he didn’t suffer fools well, and those cops would find out the hard way when we were done and Tubby had spoken to their supervisor.
Two big eyes blinked at me from halfway down the chimney.
“Let me guess, you are Ronnie.”
“Yes sir I’m Ronnie.”
“You okay Ronnie, you burned or hurt?”
“I’m really hot sir, but I don’t think I’m burned. I’m just stuck really bad, when I slipped I kinda fell and now I’m stuck.”
“I know this is gonna sound stupid but why are you in the chimney?”
“Well sir, I was drinking with my uncle down at the bar and I wanted to go home and he wanted to stay. So I walked home and when I got here I remembered I didn’t have a key. So then it came to me, if Santa can do it maybe I could too.”
Tubby huff and puffed his way up next to me.
“F**ing cops smoking and joking. What if he’d got that fire going before we got here? I’m gonna have some ass. What do we got here TimO?”
“Well Cap, Ronnie here got locked out and tried the Santa routine to get in.”
“Can we pull him out?” the Cap was now peering down at Ronnie.
“Can you move kid?” Tubby asked.
“No sir, I’m stuck real good.”
Tubby straightened himself and slipped a little almost going down in the snow on the roof.
“We can’t pull him out and this roof is gonna get one of us killed.” Tubby thought awhile looking the whole situation over.
“Just take it apart TimO, you guys get some ropes and tie off, make sure you are secure and then just take it apart brick by brick. I’ll call truck 8 over here to help.”
The Truckies arrived at the same time as Chief Rip and the PD sergeant.
This was decidedly Truckie work, those guys can tear anything apart. The Truckies went to work and in minutes, and I mean minutes they had that chimney not only disassembled but neatly stacked on the roof and Ronnie was a free and unhurt man.
I think about that call every Christmas can’t help myself.
Devil in the Chimney
Drunks find inspiration while under the influence sometimes helpful and sometimes not so much. One chilly winter night a few weeks before Christmas we were hanging out late in the evening at station number 8.
We had decided it would be fun to decorate the BRT with Christmas lights and other festive elements. Our officer Captain Tubby didn’t really care what the hell we were doing, he had been feed a salt free dinner and retired to his office to read his Louis L'Amour novels and eat tootsie rolls.
My crew was a little goofy and a pretty junior bunch, so the idea of decorating the BRT for the holiday sounded like a great way to kill some time. 8’s was the busiest house on the job and we ran 20 plus calls a shift. Going to bed before midnight on a weekend night during any holiday weekend was an exercise in futility.
We were trying to figure the best way to attach a Christmas wreath to the front of the truck without damaging the ancient old beast and making sure it wouldn’t be stolen at a scene. 8’s district was a pretty rough area of town and many times we had to leave a firefighter with the truck to make sure it wasn’t stripped while we were away from it.
So the wreath had to be well secured. Half way through attaching it we got the call. Dispatch informed us we were responding to a police call for assistance. P.D. was out with a possible psyche patient and need us to evaluate the person.
So in other words the cops had a nut case on their hands and didn’t know what to do with them. Now we didn’t know what to do with the crazies either, we would make a basic assessment about the general well being of the person to rule out poisonings, overdoses, or some kind of medical condition like diabetes. Diabetics when low on blood sugar can appear very strangely.
It was freaking cold out that night and Stormy my companion in the back seats and I wrapped ourselves up tight in our gear, because at that time the back seats were not enclosed we were exposed to the elements. By the way Stormy was called Stormy because his last name was Night, so because of a bit of a temper he had been labeled a dark and Stormy Night.
When we arrived a couple of cops greeted us outside.
“We don’t know what to do with this guy, he’s drunk for sure but he is in his house and not causing any trouble.”
“So why the hell are we here?” asked Stormy
“He called us because he thinks his chimney is haunted and he was gonna shot his gun up the chimney and kill the devil.”
The two cops were smiling at us like it’s not our problem now. You guys deal with the crazy guy. Cops love dropping stuff like that on us for some reason.
“Did you take the gun away?” asked Captain Tubby.
“Yeah we have the gun. He’s in there in the living room talking to the chimney.” Another cop grin.
We went inside and found a very drunk older man standing in front of his fire place trying to light a fire, he had the firebox loaded up with construction scraps, pieces of 2X4’s, plywood, and a ton of newspaper. He was so wobbly that each matches he struck went out before he could get it to the paper.
Tubby looked at me, “This looks like a good one for you TimO.”
For some reason I was able my whole career to bond with the disturbed and mentally impaired, yeah I know birds of a feather.
“Hello mister? My name is Tim I’m with the fire department and the police asked us to come help you. What are you doing tonight?” I kept my distance you always wanted to be just out of reach in case they made a move for you.
He turned and looked at me dumbfounded.
“You ain’t much of a fireman if you can’t tell what I’m doing here boy. I’m starting a fire, devils up in there and I’m gonna run him off.” He went back to his matches.
“What’s the devil doing in your fireplace?”
“Well hell if I know son, but he’s been talking to me ever since I got home, now I’m drunk and wanna go to sleep, so he got’s to go.”
“You hear him talking to you?” he just gave me a you’re a dumb shit look.
“Right now you hear him?” I asked.
“Do you hear him?” the man asked me.
“No.”
“Then neither do I, he speaks out loud to me not in my head. I ain’t crazy son, when he speaks again you’ll hear him too, especially when this fire commences to licking his ass up in there.”
He got the fire going finally. We all just kind of stood there staring at each other waiting to hear if the devil was gonna start talking.
Then we heard it. Screams started coming out of the fire place, real screams.
“Hep me, hep me. Oh please hep me.”
We all just about jumped out of our skin. It wasn’t a devilish voice it was more of a young southern male voice, a now terrified voice.
“Wholly shit.” Yelled Captain Tubby.
“Put that damn fire out boys.”
Easier said than done, we hadn’t brought any kind of firefighting gear with us. We were all standing around with medical boxes and oxygen stuff.
The good news is because of the cold me and Stormy at least had our big coats and gloves on. We ran over to the fireplace, but now the older man we were there to evaluate grabbed the fire poker like a weapon. He yelled at us and held the poker overhead.
“Stay back, that devil is gonna wish he hadn’t come to my house on this sacred holiday, he gonna learn a lesson about the power of Christ right now. You just go on and stay back while he commences to burn.” I looked at Stormy.
“Go get the pump can and a carryall.” Stormy hurried away as I turned my attention back to the man.
“Hey mister… I’m sorry I never got your name. What is your name?”
“Ronald, Ronald Jackson.”
“Well Mr. Jackson, can I ask you a question?” The screams now were combined with rough coughing and gagging as the fire began to grow. I edged closer.
“You stay put son.”
“Okay Mr. Jackson I’m staying. But doesn’t the devil live in hell?”
He raised his eyebrows.
“No he be living in my damn fireplace right now.” He held the poker up like a batter.
“Okay, but I would think the devil is used to fire and smoke by now wouldn’t you? I don’t think it would make him cough and scream like that, I think he’d like it.”
Mr. Jackson lowered the poker just a bit. Then we heard it.
“Please Uncle, Hep me.”
“Mr. Jackson do you have a nephew that lives here with you?” I asked as Stormy ran back in with the pump can and carryall.
“Yes I do.”
“Well the devil just called you uncle.”
Mr. Jackson dropped the poker and turned to the fire.
“Ronnie is that you up my chimney?”
“Hep me uncle I’m burning.”
Mr. Jackson tried to paw at the fire I pulled him back as Stormy and Tommy (the Driver of engine 8) quickly threw out the carryall in front of the fireplace.
Mr. Jackson struggled with me trying to break free from my grasp and help his nephew.
“Put the damn fire out my Ronnie’s burning up in there.” He was a handful.
“Mr. Jackson we have to pull the fire out of the fireplace, if we squirt water on it now it will make steam go up the chimney and burn your nephew worse. Just relax and let us help him.”
He continued to fight me as Stormy, Tommy and captain Tubby pulled the burning lumber out on to the carryall by hand. As soon as the firebox was almost empty they pulled the carryall away a few feet and Stormy sprayed it with water.
Ronnie’s screams faded into pleas for help. The fire went out quickly.
“If I let go of you Mr. Jackson you promise to stay out the way and let us help Ronnie?” He began to cry and sagged in my arms now.
“I killed Ronnie.”
“You didn’t kill anyone. Listen he’s still alive, hear him?”
Mr. Jackson collapsed, sobbing; I set him down in a chair.
Captain Tubby was now leaned over looking up the chimney with his flashlight as I go to him.
“Well Cap, what do we have?” I asked. Without looking away from the chimney he answered me.
“We got some scorched Nikes and now way out from this end.” Captain Tubby righted himself.
“We need to go to the roof. This fella is gonna have to come out the way he went in.”
“Should we call animal control Cap?”
He gave me a WTF look.
“For the reindeer, we’re gonna need someone to take care of the reindeer.”
“Get your ass on the roof TimO. Animal control? Funny.”
Stormy, Tommy and I dragged the smoldering carryall outside just in time to see Captain Tubby have a chat with the cops, he got real close to them.
“Either one of you assholes actually look in the fireplace?” They seemed dumbfounded at the question.
“No? I could tell by the stupid looks on your faces. Call your sergeant I’ll need to speak with him after we pull the real person out of the chimney that you didn’t look for while you were laughing at the poor old drunk starting the fire that probably burned the guy.” Tubby stomped away leaving the two cops frightened and still.
Captain Tubby was old school he let a lot of stuff slide that in the long run wasn’t important. But he didn’t suffer fools well, and those cops would find out the hard way when we were done and Tubby had spoken to their supervisor.
Two big eyes blinked at me from halfway down the chimney.
“Let me guess, you are Ronnie.”
“Yes sir I’m Ronnie.”
“You okay Ronnie, you burned or hurt?”
“I’m really hot sir, but I don’t think I’m burned. I’m just stuck really bad, when I slipped I kinda fell and now I’m stuck.”
“I know this is gonna sound stupid but why are you in the chimney?”
“Well sir, I was drinking with my uncle down at the bar and I wanted to go home and he wanted to stay. So I walked home and when I got here I remembered I didn’t have a key. So then it came to me, if Santa can do it maybe I could too.”
Tubby huff and puffed his way up next to me.
“F**ing cops smoking and joking. What if he’d got that fire going before we got here? I’m gonna have some ass. What do we got here TimO?”
“Well Cap, Ronnie here got locked out and tried the Santa routine to get in.”
“Can we pull him out?” the Cap was now peering down at Ronnie.
“Can you move kid?” Tubby asked.
“No sir, I’m stuck real good.”
Tubby straightened himself and slipped a little almost going down in the snow on the roof.
“We can’t pull him out and this roof is gonna get one of us killed.” Tubby thought awhile looking the whole situation over.
“Just take it apart TimO, you guys get some ropes and tie off, make sure you are secure and then just take it apart brick by brick. I’ll call truck 8 over here to help.”
The Truckies arrived at the same time as Chief Rip and the PD sergeant.
This was decidedly Truckie work, those guys can tear anything apart. The Truckies went to work and in minutes, and I mean minutes they had that chimney not only disassembled but neatly stacked on the roof and Ronnie was a free and unhurt man.
I think about that call every Christmas can’t help myself.
There it is again 1000 words, sorry and see you tomorrow.
We had decided it would be fun to decorate the BRT with Christmas lights and other festive elements. Our officer Captain Tubby didn’t really care what the hell we were doing, he had been feed a salt free dinner and retired to his office to read his Louis L'Amour novels and eat tootsie rolls.
My crew was a little goofy and a pretty junior bunch, so the idea of decorating the BRT for the holiday sounded like a great way to kill some time. 8’s was the busiest house on the job and we ran 20 plus calls a shift. Going to bed before midnight on a weekend night during any holiday weekend was an exercise in futility.
We were trying to figure the best way to attach a Christmas wreath to the front of the truck without damaging the ancient old beast and making sure it wouldn’t be stolen at a scene. 8’s district was a pretty rough area of town and many times we had to leave a firefighter with the truck to make sure it wasn’t stripped while we were away from it.
So the wreath had to be well secured. Half way through attaching it we got the call. Dispatch informed us we were responding to a police call for assistance. P.D. was out with a possible psyche patient and need us to evaluate the person.
So in other words the cops had a nut case on their hands and didn’t know what to do with them. Now we didn’t know what to do with the crazies either, we would make a basic assessment about the general well being of the person to rule out poisonings, overdoses, or some kind of medical condition like diabetes. Diabetics when low on blood sugar can appear very strangely.
It was freaking cold out that night and Stormy my companion in the back seats and I wrapped ourselves up tight in our gear, because at that time the back seats were not enclosed we were exposed to the elements. By the way Stormy was called Stormy because his last name was Night, so because of a bit of a temper he had been labeled a dark and Stormy Night.
When we arrived a couple of cops greeted us outside.
“We don’t know what to do with this guy, he’s drunk for sure but he is in his house and not causing any trouble.”
“So why the hell are we here?” asked Stormy
“He called us because he thinks his chimney is haunted and he was gonna shot his gun up the chimney and kill the devil.”
The two cops were smiling at us like it’s not our problem now. You guys deal with the crazy guy. Cops love dropping stuff like that on us for some reason.
“Did you take the gun away?” asked Captain Tubby.
“Yeah we have the gun. He’s in there in the living room talking to the chimney.” Another cop grin.
We went inside and found a very drunk older man standing in front of his fire place trying to light a fire, he had the firebox loaded up with construction scraps, pieces of 2X4’s, plywood, and a ton of newspaper. He was so wobbly that each matches he struck went out before he could get it to the paper.
Tubby looked at me, “This looks like a good one for you TimO.”
For some reason I was able my whole career to bond with the disturbed and mentally impaired, yeah I know birds of a feather.
“Hello mister? My name is Tim I’m with the fire department and the police asked us to come help you. What are you doing tonight?” I kept my distance you always wanted to be just out of reach in case they made a move for you.
He turned and looked at me dumbfounded.
“You ain’t much of a fireman if you can’t tell what I’m doing here boy. I’m starting a fire, devils up in there and I’m gonna run him off.” He went back to his matches.
“What’s the devil doing in your fireplace?”
“Well hell if I know son, but he’s been talking to me ever since I got home, now I’m drunk and wanna go to sleep, so he got’s to go.”
“You hear him talking to you?” he just gave me a you’re a dumb shit look.
“Right now you hear him?” I asked.
“Do you hear him?” the man asked me.
“No.”
“Then neither do I, he speaks out loud to me not in my head. I ain’t crazy son, when he speaks again you’ll hear him too, especially when this fire commences to licking his ass up in there.”
He got the fire going finally. We all just kind of stood there staring at each other waiting to hear if the devil was gonna start talking.
Then we heard it. Screams started coming out of the fire place, real screams.
“Hep me, hep me. Oh please hep me.”
We all just about jumped out of our skin. It wasn’t a devilish voice it was more of a young southern male voice, a now terrified voice.
“Wholly shit.” Yelled Captain Tubby.
“Put that damn fire out boys.”
Easier said than done, we hadn’t brought any kind of firefighting gear with us. We were all standing around with medical boxes and oxygen stuff.
The good news is because of the cold me and Stormy at least had our big coats and gloves on. We ran over to the fireplace, but now the older man we were there to evaluate grabbed the fire poker like a weapon. He yelled at us and held the poker overhead.
“Stay back, that devil is gonna wish he hadn’t come to my house on this sacred holiday, he gonna learn a lesson about the power of Christ right now. You just go on and stay back while he commences to burn.” I looked at Stormy.
“Go get the pump can and a carryall.” Stormy hurried away as I turned my attention back to the man.
“Hey mister… I’m sorry I never got your name. What is your name?”
“Ronald, Ronald Jackson.”
“Well Mr. Jackson, can I ask you a question?” The screams now were combined with rough coughing and gagging as the fire began to grow. I edged closer.
“You stay put son.”
“Okay Mr. Jackson I’m staying. But doesn’t the devil live in hell?”
He raised his eyebrows.
“No he be living in my damn fireplace right now.” He held the poker up like a batter.
“Okay, but I would think the devil is used to fire and smoke by now wouldn’t you? I don’t think it would make him cough and scream like that, I think he’d like it.”
Mr. Jackson lowered the poker just a bit. Then we heard it.
“Please Uncle, Hep me.”
“Mr. Jackson do you have a nephew that lives here with you?” I asked as Stormy ran back in with the pump can and carryall.
“Yes I do.”
“Well the devil just called you uncle.”
Mr. Jackson dropped the poker and turned to the fire.
“Ronnie is that you up my chimney?”
“Hep me uncle I’m burning.”
Mr. Jackson tried to paw at the fire I pulled him back as Stormy and Tommy (the Driver of engine 8) quickly threw out the carryall in front of the fireplace.
Mr. Jackson struggled with me trying to break free from my grasp and help his nephew.
“Put the damn fire out my Ronnie’s burning up in there.” He was a handful.
“Mr. Jackson we have to pull the fire out of the fireplace, if we squirt water on it now it will make steam go up the chimney and burn your nephew worse. Just relax and let us help him.”
He continued to fight me as Stormy, Tommy and captain Tubby pulled the burning lumber out on to the carryall by hand. As soon as the firebox was almost empty they pulled the carryall away a few feet and Stormy sprayed it with water.
Ronnie’s screams faded into pleas for help. The fire went out quickly.
“If I let go of you Mr. Jackson you promise to stay out the way and let us help Ronnie?” He began to cry and sagged in my arms now.
“I killed Ronnie.”
“You didn’t kill anyone. Listen he’s still alive, hear him?”
Mr. Jackson collapsed, sobbing; I set him down in a chair.
Captain Tubby was now leaned over looking up the chimney with his flashlight as I go to him.
“Well Cap, what do we have?” I asked. Without looking away from the chimney he answered me.
“We got some scorched Nikes and now way out from this end.” Captain Tubby righted himself.
“We need to go to the roof. This fella is gonna have to come out the way he went in.”
“Should we call animal control Cap?”
He gave me a WTF look.
“For the reindeer, we’re gonna need someone to take care of the reindeer.”
“Get your ass on the roof TimO. Animal control? Funny.”
Stormy, Tommy and I dragged the smoldering carryall outside just in time to see Captain Tubby have a chat with the cops, he got real close to them.
“Either one of you assholes actually look in the fireplace?” They seemed dumbfounded at the question.
“No? I could tell by the stupid looks on your faces. Call your sergeant I’ll need to speak with him after we pull the real person out of the chimney that you didn’t look for while you were laughing at the poor old drunk starting the fire that probably burned the guy.” Tubby stomped away leaving the two cops frightened and still.
Captain Tubby was old school he let a lot of stuff slide that in the long run wasn’t important. But he didn’t suffer fools well, and those cops would find out the hard way when we were done and Tubby had spoken to their supervisor.
Two big eyes blinked at me from halfway down the chimney.
“Let me guess, you are Ronnie.”
“Yes sir I’m Ronnie.”
“You okay Ronnie, you burned or hurt?”
“I’m really hot sir, but I don’t think I’m burned. I’m just stuck really bad, when I slipped I kinda fell and now I’m stuck.”
“I know this is gonna sound stupid but why are you in the chimney?”
“Well sir, I was drinking with my uncle down at the bar and I wanted to go home and he wanted to stay. So I walked home and when I got here I remembered I didn’t have a key. So then it came to me, if Santa can do it maybe I could too.”
Tubby huff and puffed his way up next to me.
“F**ing cops smoking and joking. What if he’d got that fire going before we got here? I’m gonna have some ass. What do we got here TimO?”
“Well Cap, Ronnie here got locked out and tried the Santa routine to get in.”
“Can we pull him out?” the Cap was now peering down at Ronnie.
“Can you move kid?” Tubby asked.
“No sir, I’m stuck real good.”
Tubby straightened himself and slipped a little almost going down in the snow on the roof.
“We can’t pull him out and this roof is gonna get one of us killed.” Tubby thought awhile looking the whole situation over.
“Just take it apart TimO, you guys get some ropes and tie off, make sure you are secure and then just take it apart brick by brick. I’ll call truck 8 over here to help.”
The Truckies arrived at the same time as Chief Rip and the PD sergeant.
This was decidedly Truckie work, those guys can tear anything apart. The Truckies went to work and in minutes, and I mean minutes they had that chimney not only disassembled but neatly stacked on the roof and Ronnie was a free and unhurt man.
I think about that call every Christmas can’t help myself.
There it is again 1000 words, sorry and see you tomorrow.
