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My father would sometimes take off and disappear. Once, when I was six, my mother decided not to wait for him. That morning, my family split up and went the four directions of the wind. My mother moved my brother and me to a small town in the middle of nowhere New Mexico where my grandfather owned a hotel. We arrived late in the evening and it was thought best just to get everyone in bed and settle in the next day. I found out, partially that night, and soon after, that my grandfather was a retired railroad conductor and retired volunteer firefighter.
It was the late 1960's, the height of the Cold War. Coming from Chicago, we didn't expect the nightly ritual in this town. At ten in the evening, the large siren in the water tower sounded once. We had been taught in Chicago that when such a siren went off that it meant that a nuclear tipped missile, or a tornado, was inbound, either way, it was bad news.
We screamed and ducked under the bed. My grandfather ran in the room yelling at us that it was just the curfew siren. Just then, a house down the block blew up from a natural gas leak. The siren went off again, wailing for a long time, this time summoning firefighters. My grandfather ran out of the room. I didn't know it, but my destiny had been revealed to me.
A couple of months later, my grandfather took me to an outside basketball court where the local volunteer fire departments were having "games". A taut wire had been strung between two goals. A tetherball was suspended from the wire. A couple of hoses were laid out. My grandfather being a retired volunteer fireman and a local living legend, so we were allowed to head up a hose crew. About twenty citizens were allowed to be on each hose crew. At the sign, both hose crews opened hoses. My grandfather slipped, falling down, and taking out the rest of our hose crew. Singlehandedly, I worked the nozzle and drove the ball into the other team's goal. That impressed a lot of people, including a fireman named Terence Farley. That July 4th, and every parade holiday afterwards, I was allowed to ride the fire truck in the parade.
That December (196, an arsonist started burning down houses in a neighborhood close to ours. When the fire siren sounded it's mournful wail one night, a sister who was babysitting, took my brother and I to a house fire. The wood frame house was a total loss and blazing so badly that all three fire trucks and every fireman in the city was needed to fight the fire. At one moment, Terence asked my sister if I could help. "He's just a kid" came her reply. Terence went back to firefighting.
Several months later, I was walking home from school. I didn't hear the fire siren, but I saw the fire truck roaring down the street. I waved from the street corner. To my surprise, the fire truck came to a screeching halt. Terence pulled me on board. We continued on to the fire. It was a wood frame two and a half story house. Terence gave me a hose telling me to spray the front of the house while he and the other firemen attacked the fire from different directions. None of us knew that the family in the house stored a propane tank in the closet under the front staircase. The explosion blew out the front of the house knocking me to the ground. I had the presence of mind to hold onto the hose. A photographer snapped the picture and I was an overnight celeb.
I started responding to fire calls after that. Soon, I was handed hoses on a continuing basis. I was given a helmet, reflective vest (for bike rides to the station), and a jacket was kept on the truck for me. Within a year I was taking late night calls. This led to some interesting situations. Once, when I had been out all night at a fire, and cleaning up at the station, a fire call came in at my school. I was on the truck when it pulled onto school grounds. I pulled the hose and put out the fire (a garbage can outside-but smoke had got in the building, leading to an evacuation). My principal walked up and asked if I was coming to school now. I told him I was going to go home, take a shower, and a nap first. When I got to school, he was waiting for me. He asked who gave me authorization to miss school. I told him the Fire Chief. He made a couple of phone calls, then he told me he couldn't control me off school grounds, but I was ordered not to leave school grounds once I was at school.
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When I was ten, several very important events occured. First, my grandfather decided to play Santa Claus for the town in the local parade. A chair was put on the firetruck for him, but it wasn't anchored, and he sat in it. During the parade, the fire truck driver heard about a car fire and peeled off from the parade. My grandfather was thrown from the truck by centrifugal force, and the fall killed him.
The second event that occured was a couple of months later. I had gone to the fire department after school. A call came in. The State Police wanted the fire department to wash the road after a car crash. We drove out to the site. It was a head on double fatality. They had taken one body, but left the other. My music teacher was the other body. Her face was smashed on the steering wheel of her mid 60's station wagon. I vomited at the scene, and had that nightmare about her death for decades.
The third event that year was that Terence left town. He was my only friend, and my leading advocate at the fire department. After he left, Chief Paul Ray took me under his wing and treated me like his son.
When I was thirteen, the Chief made me study and take the correspondence course for firefighting certification. When I passed with a 98, he used a little known, rarely used, state law to officially make me a firefighter. Now I could be paid four dollars a call like the other firemen. That night, I was elected to take Terence's old spot as the lowest of three assistant chiefs. The next year, the chief used state law again to get me a driver's license so that I could drive a fire truck.
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This story has an ugly subplot. When I was seven, my mother let a monster move in our house. The inappropiate touching started soon after. The beatings started after that. Abusers have a pattern. First, they scare you into going along with their sick little plan, then they threaten. Finally, piece by piece, they break your spirit and destroy your self esteem.
I was thirteen when the abuse was at it's worst. I was at the station after a call. We were standing around telling jokes and socializing. After a joke, the fire chief slapped me on the back. I screamed and jumped ten feet. A razor strap had been used on me. I was one giant bruise from my shoulder blades to my knees. The chief pulled my shirt collar and looked down my back. He didn't say anything, but he did share a look with a firefighter.
Several weeks later, in a drunken rage, the monster punched me in the face, and through the front door. I got up and ran to the Police for help. They told me that I was a "stupid kid" and if I didn't leave, they would kick my rear end themselves. The next day, I talked to a judge. He told me that because I wasn't twenty one I couldn't press charges or testify in court. Her added that I had the "same rights as a shovel".
The day after I talked to the judge, I was at the fire station again. The fire chief noticed my black eye and split lip. He asked what happened. I told him. Three days later, when my mother and the monster came out of a nightclub, my mother said four men came out of the bushes. When they got done beating him, and he was laying on the sidewalk, one of the men leaned over and whispered in his ear. The monster never touched me again after that, but he would look at me with murder in his eye.
I went on my last fire call when I was 18. I was home from Marine Boot Camp. The call was late at night. It was a car fire in a salvage yard. I had to jump the fence and pull the hose to the car. I saw the fire burning on top of the gas tank. It was decision time. If I sprayed water the tank could explode. On the other hand, if I didn't, it probably would. I sprayed and put the fire out wondering how the Marine Corps would react had I been injured fighting the fire.
The firemen of the Belen Volunteer Fire Department turned a horrific childhood into a bearable one. Those firemen taught me my core values, they invited me into their lives, they taught me my work ethic, and they stood by me when no one else would. I will be forever in their debt.
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Originally Posted by CFFTB
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