Then & Now - How Do We Bridge the Chasm?

In an excellent article in FireRescueMagazine.com on the first of this month, Chief Ronny J. Coleman, a CA State Fire Marshall (ret.) and a well-experienced fire professional, brought up a topic that many avoid or are to quick to pass over, "Your Daddy's Fire."

In his article, Chief Coleman posits that in some ways, the "efforts" of firefighting today is not all that different from the earliest self-organized efforts of throwing buckets of the "wet stuff on the red stuff," from as far back as the 17th century and since. We've simply evolved different methods of doing the same thing using the methods that each time-period's technology, allowed. Of course, we have also seen that our fires today are not all "Class A," which has required fire-science experts to develop new materials, tools, chemicals, etc. to quench those fires as well.

One of the greatest aspects that I, and I believe many others, have found in the fire service, is to be a young upstart, rookie firefighter and listening to the "war stories" of those that "were there" before us. They told us of their grand exploits, running into the roaring inferno of an occupied apartment building without the benefit of a hose, rescuing adults and children alike. Or perhaps they were on the third floor and found themselves without an exit, save one window. They rigged some hose around the leg of a dresser and bailed head-first out the window. We sat there mesmerized, looking forward to our own opportunity to live the life of these heroes.

As we progress through our learning curve, we learn many new methods that have been developed to allow our generation to meet the challenges of fighting the "Red Devil." Different tactics, new combinations and yes, even safer ways to do our duty. However, as Chief Coleman states in his outstanding article, the differences and similarities converge to raise the question, "Are we teaching the past or are we teaching the present?" (Ronny J. Coleman, "Your Daddy's Fire," FIRERESCUEMAGAZINE.COM, November 1, 2016.)

He continues by stressing the need for that what was/is old to be updated to include, that which is new. However, we have to ask ourselves, "Do we do it and if so, do we do so enough?" This is an imperative if we are to be able to continue to do our duty. There can be no truer words!

By the natural "biology" of the fire service, there will always (or almost always) be a mixture of, what I will simply say as, "rookies," (0-1 year) "experienced," (1-5 years) and "well-experienced (5+ years). This can be seen both in the firefighters who enjoy the challenge of being on the front-line for their entire career and by those who yearn to learn climb the leadership ladder and rise to the higher ranks of officers.  Add to that mix are those who are retired/disabled, but still dedicated to the service, and willing to contribute what they can to help today's fire service grow into tomorrow's.

Perhaps there might be a way that departments, on their own, in regional groups or through national resources,  could bring the "old" and "new" together. This should not be seen as a "stroll down memory lane," for the "old-timers" to try and mesmerize the "young 'uns," with amazing tales. Rather, these scheduled and specifically organized events, should allow for the clear and concise exchange of information from all parties, that will benefit both those in attendance and in turn, those who will be  their future audiences, as well. Let's take Chief Coleman's words to heart and assure that we use our past experiences as tool towards providing the best possible service we can in our firefighting careers.

As philosopher and novelist, George Satayana warned, Those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it."

Stay safe and let's make sure that everyone goes home.

Reflections of Fifteen Years Ago - The Pain is Still There

Last Friday afternoon, as a hot sun beat down on the City of New York, I made my first pilgrimage to the 9-11 Memorial in Lower Manhattan. After a car service dropped us off as close as possible (major construction in still ongoing all around the Memorial site) I saw street names that were familiar to be only by the fact of the numerous books I had read, e.g. Dennis Smith's and the late, Harvey Eisner's. We walked by the 9-11 Museum and the barn of 10 Engine &  10 Truck. From there, we entered the Memorial Plaza.

Let me add here that due to some unknown "kink" in my "armor," I've always worn my emotions on my sleeve. I cry at sad movies; I also cry at the end of happy movies. In juxtaposition, due to my long involvement with Jewish synagogues and ritual, I have also officiated at many (far too many) funerals and unveilings. Yet, I only shed tears at two; one just a month ago for one of my dearest friends and the other was over ten years ago, when I officiated at the funeral of a young man who died from the complications of AIDS. As it turns out, he was a stranger, I had never met. A close rabbi friend of mine who was ill at the time, asked to contact this young man's parent's since his demise was imminent.. 

They were lovely, warm and loving folks. We connected immediately. After a brief chat, they took me in to meet their son. This handsome young man, ravaged by this horrific disease, greeted me with a big smile as he lay in a hospital bed in his home, in the bedroom where e grew up. We sat and chatted for a while, with much of the conversation punctuated with many jokes, most by him. After sitting with him and taking notes for, what is too often referred to as a, "eulogy," (personally, I prefer "A Review and Celebration of Life), he handed me an envelope. When I went to open it, he told me to stop. Startled, I asked why. He explained that he had written the pages inside and wanted me to read it at his funeral. And, he made me promise that I wouldn't peek inside in any way, until I opened the envelope during my address. 

Sadly, he passed just two days. As I addressed the large gathering at his memorial service, I was easily able to keep my composure, even as his parents sat before me, constantly wiping away their tears. The moment to read his personal address came. At the beginning, it was strong, yet pleasant, and yes, even with a few more of his examples of his wonderful sense of humor. Then came a paragraph in which he addressed his parents. That's when my tears began to well up. To help me from losing complete control, I used an old pressure point trick I had learnt from a friend who was an accomplished user of tai chi. The sensation resulting from the pressure on the nerve was enough to allow me to finish his letter, with but a few more tears.

However, I wasn't that lucky last Friday at the 9-11 Memorial. I only had to find a few names of our brothers who died that day and whom I had read about, before the "water-works" started. Both my wife and my daughter knew this would be a difficult time for me, for I've never truly forgiven myself for not jumping in my car and driving to New York from Florida. Due to my back injury and disability, I knew I wouldn't be able to work the pile, however, I thought that with my administrative and computer skills, I could work to help keep track of those missing for those looking for them, or some such administrative tasks. Instead, I worked at our local blood bank for almost 3 full days, until we received word that there would not be a need for blood from around the nation.

Thus, standing at the first Pool and seeing such names as Judge, Ganci, Feehan, Hatton, Mojica and Downey, the tears spilled out faster than I could dab them away. And there were another 338 more. Standing there weeping, I still could not conceive the level of hatred and evil that could have generated such as acts that would ultimately take nearly 3,000 lives. 

Today, nearly fifteen years later, that hatred and evil still exists in ISIS, Boko Haram, Hamas, and many more. Yet, we don't have to travel to exotic places to see this evil. For all too often, we see it in our own civilized societies. Look at the shootings and stabbing in our newspapers and newscasts every day. Whatever the "reason" for taking someones life, that evil has taken hold of the perpetrator..

So, I walked around the pools, my hand touching the inscriptions on each plate, knowing that the families of each and every one of them listed here, were still missing and mourning their relative who was lost that day. 

No, not even my pressure-point trick would work this day. As I "tweeted" last Friday, standing there in the footprint of those two towers, I was standing on Hallowed Ground. 

Stay safe and let's make sure that Every One Goes Home.

Sadly,