Posts Tagged With: firefighter paramedic

~ Icing On The Cake ~

Yesterday, on My Captain’s 50th birthday, the entire Montgomery County Fire and Rescue Operations Staff were out pounding the pavement for their annual Muscular Dystrophy Association Fundraising Drive.

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In other words, they were trading in their good looks and charming dispositions for the loose change in the ashtray of every vehicle that stopped at the intersection they held up.

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It was a hot, humid day, as always.  Actually, it was a hot and humid 3 days, as all three shifts in the county get to participate.  They actually compete against each other to see who can raise the most donations.  In years past, My Captain’s shift has fared really well on that contest.  I don’t know what they were doing to win…maybe going shirtless and just wearing their running gear pants and suspenders or something.  (Obviously, the female firefighters could seriously pull in the moola with that maneuver).

One year, I offered to stand out there with them. It was hotter than this year, and I, in all of my soft and squishy mama-ness got overheated and nearly passed out.  It was rawwwwthar embarrassing, took time for the guys to get me out of the street and into the shade, and basically was a big pain in the butt for people trying to accomplish something other than dealing with me!

This year I was like, “Hey Hon, do you want me to come hold a boot for a while?” and he was like, “Er…don’t you have a birthday cake to make or something?”

But fortunately, they didn’t really need me and my begging talents.   All the fire stations’ shifts were already out.  This is Engine 732’s crew.  They are the next station over from My Captain’s station.  Their station is shiny and new and big and has professionals to clean the place unlike My Captain’s aging firehouse.  Those things don’t make 32 a better fire shift, but it is something I like to bring up over and over again, just to stir the pot.

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And here is Station 8’s Captain, none other than My Captain’s best friend, (since 3rd grade when his father forced him to play with My Captain,) Ty.

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Ty lets his wife hold the boot.

Well, he kind of has to, since she is a firefighter:

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paramedic/badass:

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at Fire Station 34, who probably doesn’t fall out in a little heat during the MDA drive.

But the point is, she gets to play.

And I don’t.  I mean, geez, you fall out one time and they never let you come play in the traffic again.

Where was I?

Oh yeah, Captain Ty was out in the traffic, too.

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I think we can all agree that Ty is hot.  No, I mean HOT, like, it was stinkin HOT, and humid out.

That, and he’s really good looking and virile.  If you like that sort of thing.

Which Maggie does.

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And she’s no slouch herself.

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I want to be her when I grow up.   I also want to be a Moose.   Like a real Montana Moose.  But that is for an entirely different counseling session, altogether.

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Back to My Captain’s shift.  So they were out playing in the traffic, raising quite a bit of  money for Jerry’s Kids.

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And nobody got hit this year.

Which is nice.

Last year, My Captain had a few near misses.  We won’t elaborate on why people with ADD shouldn’t play in traffic, I don’t care what their rank is.

At the end of the day, the guys counted up all the donations.  I think My Captain’s shift pulled in something like $8,000.  THAT is a LOT of pennies, folks.  Some of them, Canadian.

I think they also received a few Hershey’s Park play tokens, and a few ladies’ phone numbers, but MDA let them keep those.

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But NONE of this is the point to this post. The POINT is that last year, for My Captain’s birthday, I had the time to bake him his favorite Boston Cream Pie.

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It was a real Beaut!

THIS year, however, my kitchen is all torn up, I’m not sure where all of my baking pans are, and I didn’t have time.   It’s his 50th birthday, and I couldn’t even bake him a ding-dang cake, even though he was working all day in the heat for MDA during his shift, AND running emergency calls, AND trying to get administration stuff done.   And I couldn’t even give him a homemade cake.

I suck, is what I’m saying.

But I DID go buy a cake that the shift could share after they got off of the roads last night.  And since I suck, I didn’t order it decorated ahead of time, so I had to write the birthday wishes on it myself.

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I had a little trouble with the icing.

Ahem.

My Captain sent me a photo after they cut into it, to show me how well the icing fared, as it sat in the fire house, for hours, waiting for the guys to finish the MDA  street walking……2015-09-03 15.52.09

Eeeesh.

It’s a damn good thing that My Captain has low expectations in a mate.

Don’t judge.

Categories: Family, Fire and Rescue | Tags: , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

~ Getting Old In A Firehouse ~

A half-century.

Fifty stinkin’ years.

Most of those fighting fires as a Captain, and saving lives as a Paramedic.

Most of those getting up ridiculously early.

Most of those having sleep interrupted, often several times a night, to respond to 911 calls.

Most of those mentoring younger firefighters and paramedics.

Most of those training and supporting Special Ops men and women in the art of collapse rescue.

Most of those in the front, right side “Officer’s Seat” of the fire engine.

And today, being his 50th birthday, as he came onto his shift at the butt-crack of dawn, he was reminded so very well of exactly how much respect he has earned.

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Firehouse style.

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Happy Birthday, My Beloved Old Fart!  May you have many, many more.

(And may you have an opportunity to get them back!)

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~ The Hot Box ~

Yesterday was a whopper of a hot day here at Pop-pop’s beach cottage.  I mean it was a humid, fly-biting, feels-like-the-air-has-already-been-breathed kind of day.   Around 9 O’clock, I checked in on My Captain, (who is in week two of his beach chair shed project that he and his best friend Ty had started when Ty’s family visited earlier last week)…

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(remember he is on vacation….).

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and found him in the garage, planing wood.

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He was drenched with sweat.  Even his hat was dripping…and it was only 9 O’clock in the morning!

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It was already nearing 100 degrees (it got to 105 by Noon – which in Delaware is most emphatically NOT a DRY heat) and My Captain was out working in it.

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He’s the kind of guy who gets hyper-focused, in case you hadn’t noticed.  Anal Retentive to the extreme, he wouldn’t even stop to drink until I stamped my foot and unplugged his power cord.

Yes,  I really behave like that. I’m a tyrant. Don’t judge.

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So I took it upon myself to make him a work-oasis.  I put a beach umbrella out where he was working in the sun.  I took no less than three INDOOR (as in, not safely meant for OUTDOOR) extension cords and put a fan outside (I’m an incorrigible rebel, I confess.  I also rarely put the milk away when I get it out.) where he would be, and switched that puppy on to ‘High.’

Did it make a difference in the heat?

 

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Er, no.

But I bet he felt loved.

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He did eventually call “uncle” and gave it up around 3pm, when he got tired of the relentless, oppressive heat and biting flies.  We dragged him down to the beach, where he was still in relentless, oppressive heat, and was still sweetmeat for the biting flies, but at least he could go jump in the cool, rather shark-infested Atlantic for respite.

Ah, living the dream, I tell you.  Living the dream.

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He plans to finish the shed tomorrow…has to, really, because he signed up to work Overtime at the firehouse for Friday, and so will be cutting his vacation short. (Someone has to pay for my Lindt and Hershey Chocolate habits, for which no rehab has put even the slightest dent.)  As far as the shed project goes, that means putting the siding on, building and installing the doors, and painting any trim.  But he’s totally got this.  He’s a hyper-focused animal, My Captain.  It’s what makes him so good at his job as a fireman and FEMA task-force leader.  He’s always super focused on the mission!

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And we’ve decided to name this particular mission ‘The Hot Box’ in honor of the tortuous conditions he slaved under and survived!

Thank you, Beloved!!!

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~ The Big-Ass Tire That Could ~

This is the story of a large tire who didn’t believe in itself, but with the help of the Montgomery County Special Ops (Collapse/Trench/Technical Rescue) Team,  learned to.

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We’ll name the tire Fred.

Fred was between 5 and 6 HUNDRED pounds of glorious black rubber.  He had lived a rather mundane life, going in circles again and again and again, until he was retired.  He thought his life was over at that point.  He had not been chosen to live the remainder of his years on a kiddie playground, and no one was making him into a redneck flower bed.  He was very sad.

Poor Fred.

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Then one day, yesterday, to be exact, the rescue team from Montgomery County decided to use him for one of their hundreds of trainings.

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Fred found himself being hauled up hills,

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pulled over things,

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pushed under things,

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heaved,

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and hoed.

Hoed?

Just go with it.

The kind Special Ops team took him everywhere that day, so they could be more prepared when a true crises came.  And THAT made Fred feel good about his purpose in this world, for he knew he was a part of saving peoples’ lives….

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…and tiring out grown mens’ behinds quite thoroughly.

(Fred really needs to lose some weight.)

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~ What Kids Really Need ~

I took Varmint and Critter to see the movie Mr. Peabody and Sherman a couple of days ago, then afterwards stopped at My Captain’s fire station to visit.  We hadn’t been there long before the munchkins, who were fired up after eating precisely 5.356 pounds of gummy bears, each, during the movie, began to be raaawwwwthar annoying.  You know…..

“I’m not touching you!”

“Quit it!”

“I’m not touching you!”

“Quit it!”

“I’m still not touching you!”

“Mom! Tell him to stop!”

“Critter, stop it.”

“Mom! I never touched her!”

That kind of thing.  I was tired by that time of the day, and wasn’t in the mood to deal with it well.  I begged the guys on the shift to help corral the brats.

One of My Captain’s Shift’s Master Firefighters, Craig, has kids of his own, and knew exactly what to do.  He walked into the office, and said, “All right, kids, time to wash the truck.” And then he turned and strode confidently to the engine bay, without looking back, as if there were no question that his order would be followed.

Both kids looked at me, perplexed.

“Well, Go On!” I nodded.

They whined and griped, but reluctantly followed him.

I waited a couple of minutes…just enough to let Craig get them started, then snuck into the bay to catch this on film.

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They spotted me and glared at me.

I snickered.

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“This is so unfair!” one muttered.

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“We’re not even getting paid.” one whined.

Craig chuckled and pointed out spots they missed.

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And he kept them at it until it was done.

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And then, something wonderful happened.  Halfway through, the whining stopped.  You could see my brats start to take pride in how clean the truck was.

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Some of the other guys on the shift stopped and watched.  You could tell the kids knew they were being observed, and made a show of putting extra elbow grease in.

It was attention, for the right reasons:  They were helping.  Being productive.  Being selfless.  They felt like a part of the team, like their efforts mattered.

And they were proud of it.

THAT is what kids need.  They don’t need more toys or channels, or more Ipods and x-boxes.  They need to be put to work, so they can prove to themselves that they matter, and what they do matters.  You can tell them until you are blue in the face that it’s not what they say in life, but what they do that makes them, but until they actually do, DO, it can’t really register.

Master Firefighter Craig has several kids of his own….he knew what he was doing.  This wasn’t his first rodeo!  He turned their negative behavior around…morphed it into positive, self-image-building work, and, quite possibly saved their lives in the process.

Thanks, Craig!

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