Last Call

I haven’t been writing much lately because, quite frankly, I am too tired at the end of the day to do anything more than go for a swim at the Veteran’s Memorial Pool and then lie down and read a book and try to stay awake until at least seven o’clock. 

Last night, I fell asleep at about half past six.  Of course, this meant I was wide awake in the wee hours of the morning.

I was up yesterday before four (as I usually am) to go in to work early so I could later attend calling hours and a service for a former Battalion Chief.  He is one of several men I worked with who have passed away since I moved out of town five years ago.

He, like many these days, died “unexpectedly”.

While the nature of the job puts firefighters at risk of dying prematurely and we are all on borrowed time as it is, the department I served on hadn’t had a line of duty death since the 1950s and most of our retirees lived well into their 80s and 90s.

“Batman”, as he was often called by those who knew him best, was particularly good at making sure everyone went home.

I didn’t join the department until I was in my early 30s.  When I first started, there were plenty of “salty” firefighters around.

Few of them claimed it.

One by one they retired after being on the job since they were teenagers.  They seemed old at the time.  Now I know a lot of them were only in their 50s or early 60s.

They often kept their scanners tuned to the fire frequency and would show up for coffee and to shoot the breeze.  They stayed active in the Firefighters’ Association and continued to mentor others long after they moved on to other pursuits.

I was lucky to be there when it was still primarily a call department. I had a chance to learn from guys who had seen it all and did the job for the love of it and their neighbors, not for a pension.

Thankfully, not all of them have shifted off the planet and it is always good to see them, even if it is only at funerals.

I only recognized two members of the current department (the rest were probably still in middle or high school when I left) and it blew my mind that the new “Fire Chief” in the town is a cop.

(Not sure how someone who never worked as a firefighter gets to be chief, but that’s small-town politics for you).

The firefighter walkthrough was very solemn and dignified as it should be. However, it didn't take long for old friends to revert to type and joke and laugh and comment on how much grayer and fatter we all are.

Most of us are still working in some capacity.  “Who can afford to retire?” was a common refrain although a few have managed to at last.

We are all just trying to live long enough to collect our social security and spend a few years farting around.

The days of robust volunteer and call fire departments are coming to an end, I am afraid.  Few small cities or towns are able to function without full-time members.

Since we have done such a good job teaching fire safety to schoolchildren and installing smoke detectors, most calls are EMS anyway.

That kind of work isn’t for everyone. Instead of being content going on 3 a.m. ambulance calls, box alarms, and brush fires, I thought it would be a good idea to train as a nurse.

The irony is not lost on me that I would have been able to put in at least 20 or more years as a firefighter/EMT if I hadn’t stupidly taken a bunch of injections to attend school. I would be less decrepit today if I had stayed a public servant instead of becoming a mercenary of the medical industrial complex.

Who knows, though?  Every day I wake up I know I am lucky to be alive and, hopefully, it will be a good long while before I need to attend anyone else's funeral.

In the meantime, I need to start making more of an effort to stop in for coffee the next time I’m in town.