Tag: Retired

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Welcome To The Neighborhood

Seeing as how this is the place I go to write and you, in turn, come to read, I figured it was about time I held up my end of the deal.  So…

The move was… interesting… I think I need to refine the aforementioned Funkenwinkel Nuisance Ranking Scale.  Btw, any suggestions for that are welcomed and will be given full consideration based on creativity of both description and cursing.  However, instead of dragging you through all the gory details of late arrivals, nonexistent customer service and the frustration of trying to understand and be understood by a person for whom english is a second language (side note; the fact that people speak more than one language now makes me, as a rule of thumb, far more tolerant than I used to be.  Once I realized that I only speak, ya know, ONE language, I figured it was only fair that I cut them some slack for at least attempting multiple languages.) I decided instead to just leave it at this; I got 99% of my stuff here and in the same shape it was in when it left Illinois.  With minimal effort on my part.  After all, while my stuff was being loaded, I literally stood in the kitchen and ate chips.  Pretty much similar to when it was unloaded here in North Carolina.  All in all, I can’t complain about it too loudly.

In the midst of trying to figure out where I want to put things etc. I’ve managed to take a little time to explore my new surroundings.  Among the things I’ve learned so far; apparently the globe of my front porch light has been the final resting place for every insect that has died in the state over the course of the last millennia.  I said a few kind words over the tiny, desiccated, corpses of a variety of winged insects just before I washed them out onto the grass though, so we’re all good.

Also, I learned the neighbor two doors (I think) down has a beagle that’s quite fond of his own voice.  The beagle’s, not the owner’s.  Just sayin’.  Now, I’m not one to “breed shame” as I know or have known dogs of a variety of breeds that are deemed “dangerous” or “inherently stupid”  or what have you and, of course, it’s the individual animal and the way it’s trained and not an entire breed that should be lumped into a category.  Having said that, there’s something about the incessant baying of a beagle that rankles me.  More so than almost any other breed.  So, I’ve got that going for me.

I discovered a local treat (by “local” I mean Virginia and North Carolina) named Biscuitville.  Think breakfast sandwiches like you’d find at the golden arches (NOT the golden arcs) and you get an idea.  Now multiply the flavor of said sandwhich by a factor of about 12,683 and you have an idea of how amazing country ham on a biscuit tastes.  Side note; if you think it’s hard to understand a voice over the intercom of a fast food place, try throwing in a southern accent on top of it.  Yikes.  My response to something (and by “something” I mean, I have no idea what I was asked) this morning was, literally “Ummm, yes?” but I got the food I requested, so I’ll take that as a win. Let’s see, what else?  Oh yeah, I found a wonderful BBQ place not far from my house.  A large plate of coarse chopped bbq with fries, cole slaw, and hush puppies for under $10 and I can’t eat all the food they give me.  Also, win!

This part of the country once produced a large portion of the furniture America bought.  And, while much has gone off shore (I’ll spare you my rant on this topic) (for now) there are still many fine, locally owned stores, outlets, etc in the area.  This works out well for me, since I need to furnish a couple rooms and I’m kind of a cheapskate.  

This piece for example –

I found this gem in a local auction/consignment store.  After long distance discussions with the daughters as well as a couple friends with much better design sense than I have, I made an offer on it.  As you can see, it fits nicely right inside the front door of the new place.

So thanks to all that gave input on this one, I promise I’ll try (prolly not too hard though tbh) not to overload your text/minutes/data/emails with my questions/comments/pictures regarding future purchases.  Maybe.  We’ll see.  If I can keep my impulsivity reigned in by my cheapskatedness that would be a big help too.

 

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Moving On

As I sit here, waiting for the sun to break the horizon, I am not yet “homeless” but I am, in fact, bedless.  I took that apart and boxed it up last night, since the movers are coming today to load up the truck with my stuff so that same stuff can be reunited with me on Thursday after I close on my home.  My retirement home, you might say.  You might, but I won’t.  At least not for a few years yet.  I hope.

On the Funkenwinkel Nuisance Ranking Scale  (That’s a made up term btw so don’t bother GTSing it) I’d rate this experience so far as a solid “it’s not so bad” which is more than “why did I wait this long?” but far less than “WTF was I thinking?”.  I can’t really complain too much about it.  Other than unfortunate timing on the pick up, which will most likely, cause me to miss an evening with some of the guys from the firehouse.  Since I don’t have the power to reroute a moving van, I guess I have to grin and bear it.

One of the things that has really helped buffer the process, and in turn keep the FNRS score low has been a steady stream of music blaring into my ears.  This has helped pass the time while I’ve been crazy busy packing my stuff.  Of course it hasn’t stopped me from occasionally bouncing from room-to-room as I see something sparkly that distracts me from whatever I was packing and sends me spinning off in a different direction packing some other, random household item.  I kind of wish I could watch myself (from a safe distance) while I packed up.  I would have probably had many snarky observations about me and about my organizational skills.

Hint; I have none.

On the plus side; I have made many new friends at the local U-Haul Store…

As the realization that last night was literally the last night I’ll spend in my humble, little apartment, one that has served me so well for the last few years, I naturally look back on one of the best parts.  As realtors like to say; it’s location, location, location.  And it’s not just the proximity to downtown or mass transit.  It’s about the neighborhood.  At least in my case.  The people in this neighborhood are pretty great.  Sophie (pour one out for a great dog) and I met so many of them, and I’ll always have fond memories of them.  Marie, Ken and their boys took Sophie in for me a couple of times when the Boy Child and PhojoMama™ were unable to take her for me.  And they doted on her.  John, from upstairs took care of her, and gave her great care, while I was on shift.  And, for the last couple weeks, Amy and her kids have kind of taken me in and kept me fed.

And entertained.

This is the family I referred to recently, the one whose dogs I help walk.  Amy is an absolute sweetheart and the kids are a trip.  Case in point; I was down there the other evening doing a load of laundry while the kids were doing their homework.  Aviator (not her real name because obvs) was working on her spelling.  As you may have figured out, I’m kind of a word guy.  So I was looking over her shoulder as she worked on it.  One of the assignments was to write a paragraph using five of her vocabulary words.

She wrote it about me. (sniff, sniff)

She not only wrote a funny piece, in addition to her vocabulary words, she managed to incorporate all three of my names.  Joe, Joel, and Joelson.  Yes, I’ve added a new nickname as that’s how the Aviator refers to me.  I’ve got to hand it to her, it made me laugh when she threw that one at me.  She’s a bright kid, they both are, no question, but with this one’s wit, one day she’ll either make a lot of money making people laugh or rule the world.  She may not be the funniest kid I’ve met, but she’s the one photobombing the class picture of funny kids, no doubt.

So, briefly, to Amy, Aviator and to my dog walking partner in crime (DWPC) I can’t thank you all enough for the kindness you’ve shown me.  I so wish we had gotten to know each other sooner.  I promise we’ll stay in touch (as I told my friend Wendy, it’s up here in public now, so the pressure is on me to stick to it!) and I hope your futures hold nothing but wonderfulness.  You’ve got my digits, as the cool kids say (at least they used to.  Do they still?) so reach out any time.  If you come to NC, you’ve always got a place to stay.  You’ve touched my heart at a time when I needed it most and I hope you all (I guess I have to start saying y’all eventually but now is not that time) enjoyed hanging out with me as much as I’ve enjoyed hanging out with you.

Peace

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Once Again, I’m Walking

Here we are, on a lovely, warm, sunny, fall afternoon in northern Illinois.  And I’m in one of my favorite places to be; a coffeehouse.  Though not long-term really, I’m just here for the latte.  Oh and the WiFi of course.  So what else would I do but write, right?

One of the the adjustments I’ve had to make since I had to have Sophie put down (pour one out to a great dog) was that I essentially quit walking around the neighborhood.  And that was purely my choice.  It felt completely foreign to me, the thought of walking around a neighborhood where, in all seriousness, more people knew Sophie’s name than mine.  I say that matter-of-factly too.  It’s far easier and much less awkward for someone to walk up to a stranger and say “what’s your dog’s name?” than it is to ask that question of the person walking said dog.

And so, a lot of the people we’d met over the course of the last three years haven’t heard of Sophie’s shuffle off this canine coil.   I don’t know if “canine coil” is a thing btw, but I took a little literary license, so…

That kind of bothered me too, since she was quite popular around the hood.  But, as it was easier on me, well, that’s just how it went.

Until a couple weeks ago.

One of my neighbor’s asked me if I’d help her son with his daily walk of their dogs around the neighborhood after he got out of school.  Of course, I said yes.

A.) they’re excellent people

B.) I’m happy to help (usually)

C.) I figured it would be a good way for me to get over a mild case of mopery.

And so, these two knuckleheads became a semi-regular part of my routine-

     

Oscar and Chalupa are my new walk buddies, along with their human boy child.  We have a lovely walk in the afternoon and typically discuss human boy child things.  Not Oscar and Chalupa btw, the human boy child and I.  Just to clarify.  And I have to say I have enjoyed this time immensely.  Even though I was a little rusty on the whole “leash” thing, since Soph hasn’t used one in years, and even before that, when she had a leash on, I typically let it drag behind her rather than hang on to it.  She was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a flight risk.

Brief detour; did you notice anything different yet?  I’ll wait.  Go ahead, take a look around this post.  And think about my last post.

Back to dog-related issues…

So, I’m actually dog sitting these two this weekend while their aforementioned excellent people are out-of-town and I must say it’s been a blast.  I’m not about to start a dog-walking gig or anything like that, but I’ve had fun. Today, for example, as the fellas and I were walking, I had synapses firing ideas back and forth most of the time we were out.  Nothing Pulitzer worthy, but if you’ve ever read my stuff, you knew that already, amirite?  Technically I think the very existence of “amirite” eliminates me from Pulitzer consideration.  At any rate, as we walked I watched the two of them; Chalupa marching along with dogged (see what I did there?) determination, like a sled dog pulling towards the finish line of the Iditarod while Oscar plugs along, his stubby, little, cankles churning like a four-legged centipede, trying to keep up.  They’re quite the couple, these two.  They make me laugh a little and smile a lot.

That’s not to be underrated either.  Especially of late.  Too much stuff happening in our world today that is the antithesis of happy.  And I’m not going to go any deeper into that.  Just yet.

But in the interim, as I said before, I’m in a really good place and I intend to ride this wave as long as I can.  Because we all know how short life can be.

Peace

PS- Because, well, you know… Yes!  I conquered the Word Press beast!  Take that (expletive deleted)!!!

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Aaaaand I’m still retired.

Well, I have to admit, this has been pretty good so far.  My last day “on the books” was spent north of the Cheddar Curtain at a Ryan Adams concert in Madison and it was just outstanding.  Great concert going experience with excellent people.  And remember kids, live music is always better live.  Also, I highly recommend the venue; Breese Stevens Field, as a place to see live music.  They do it right there.  And I’m actually blasting the setlist through my headphones as I write (brief pause while I crank up the volume) today’s missive (And I wonder why I have hearing loss).

Well.  I was going to insert a lovely picture of the lovely concert here.  Instead after no less than 45 minutes of error messages and a fruitless search of Word Press’s site trying to find some way other than tagging onto someone else’s issues, I decided instead to use this space to launch a scathing, profanity-laced tirade, because, why not?

So, to the (expletive deleted) at (expletive deleted) Word Press; Listen you smug, self-satisfied (expletive deleted), YOU may feel an email is not the proper way to answer someone’s (expletive deleted) question, but I, in fact, feel it’s perfectly (expletive deleted) appropriate sometimes.  I thought your (expletive deleted) site was supposed to be (expletive deleted) user (expletive deleted) friendly.  Friendly?  My (expletive deleted)(expletive deleted)!!!  The main reason I chose to use your piece of (expletive deleted) site was that it was simple to use.  Simple to use.  I got your (expletive deleted) simple to use right (expletive deleted) here.  If your site is so simple to use, why then, if I did (expletive deleted) nothing, NOTHING, different on my end do I suddenly get (expletive deleted) HTTP (expletive deleted) error messages?  Explain that (expletive deleted).  Go ahead (expletive deleted), I’m (expletive deleted) waiting…

Ohhh that feels so much better.  Sometimes you just need to vent, amirite?

Despite some of the recent events (pour one out to a great dog) I’ve been through and some of the normal aggravations dealing with lenders/mortgage people/home inspections/insurance/getting ready to move a thousand miles away, I feel like I’m in a really good place right now.  Maybe the best I’ve been in a long time.  For a variety of reasons, most of which I won’t go into here, but if you know, you know.

So… you know…

Sorry, couldn’t help myself.

Anyway.  Yeah, I’m encountering a hurdle or two along the way, but nothing ridiculous. I think.  Probably nothing the folks that have gone before me haven’t experienced already.

Two cool, unrelated side notes; well only one to go on here, although after checking with the particulars involved I’d really like to put something up here about the other.  I’ll leave one as a teaser… But the one I can comment on now; a few months back, at one of our meetings for the AFFI Labor History Committee, I was asked by Jim Schrepfer (President of the Illinois Association of Retired Firefighters) if I’d like to write a column for the biannual (not biennial, I looked it up to make sure I had it right.  So back off grammar police wannabes) retired guy newsletter (not its real name) and, of course, I was thrilled at the offer.  Jim was happy with the result and I must say I was pretty pleased with the way it turned out too.  Maybe I’ll put it up here in a few months, I just feel like they should get a little exclusivity, you know?

Ok, I’ve frittered away enough of my day with this hot mess, time to find more mischief.

Peace.

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Wendy The Walker

What do say when you’re discussing a legend?  And I’m not even joking.  Around the firehouse (specifically in the high-rise district, but her fame has spread) everyone knows who Wendy the Walker is.  Most of the town does too, at least that part of town that exists along and/or near Main Street.

So how does one become legendary?  Let me tell you…

I don’t remember exactly when the first time was that I met her.  But I remember I was working on another shift; trade or overtime I don’t recall, but I remember I was working with a guy that lives in town.  And I walked out on to the bay floor this particular day and saw Dick standing in the back of the station, talking to a woman.  This was not uncommon, btw, Dick was almost as much of a “chick magnet” as the Great Vincenzo.  Almost.  At any rate, I walked back to see who she was.  I’m pretty sure she was introduced as “Wendy the Walker” since everyone knows her as the woman that walks four miles down Main Street every. single. day.

Thus began a friendship that I value as highly as any I’ve ever had.

Flash forward a couple years.  I remember coming back to work after Diane died.  I had been off for a month, thanks to the efforts of a bunch of guys I worked with back then, and Wendy stopped to chat when she saw me.  I think she asked where I had been since she hadn’t seen me in so long.  And, since Wendy is the kind of person that is truly interested in people, I told her the whole story of Diane’s passing.  She listened intently the whole time and from the look on her face, I knew she heard, and felt, every word I told her.

Now, often times, people will tell you “call me if you need anything” and, it’s not that they don’t mean it; many, if not most, do.  But for some it’s just platitudes and you learn to take those words with a grain of salt.  That’s never the case with this woman.  She said, knowing about our Walk 5k for Caitlin, and knowing how much work Diane did for it, “I’ll handle the publicity for the walk”

And she did.  For the remainder of the time we did W5kfC, Wendy handled it.  She wrote more articles and got them in more publications than I ever imagined possible.  And that was just the start.  Every hare-brained scheme I came up with over the years, she was all in on.  Without question.  And, also without question and, as if I ever had a choice, she became my Jewish mother.  Which worked out well since she’s, you know, Jewish.  And a mother.

She’s had a profound impact on so many of the things I do (i.e. anytime you see a “PS” on here, it’s an homage to Wendy) but not just me.  Pretty much everyone that works or has worked at good ol’ #3 has become part of Wendy’s personal domain.  And if they’re no longer there I’ll hear from her “how is my Mike?” or “how is my Rob?”  She is our chocolate fairy as evidenced by the many random deliveries from her, of something made in large part from the seed of the cacao.  Even “Bagel Saturday” a long standing tradition from a few years back included chocolate bagels.

Wendy knows many of our birthdays and makes a special trip to drop off something because “birthdays are a big deal.”  And, while that may not be a direct quote, I feel it’s close enough to deserve the quotation marks.

Which brings me to today.

Wendy, my very dear friend, you have meant so much to me, and to so many of the guys at “your” fire station, I wish there was some way to let you know just how much I cherish our friendship.  Even though you continue to try and talk me out of moving south.  You mean the world to me and I promise I’ll always keep in touch with you.  And yes, I realize that putting that in here kind of locks me in to it.  And yes, I realize that you will remind me (not so subtly) should I falter in the frequency of our chats.  You win.  Besides, I’m kinda scared of you. And I mean that in the nicest possible way.

So, while I know you’re celebrating with your favorite cellist and this all but assures happiness, I’m still going to wish you the happiest of birthdays on this very special day and I hope the rest of your birthday week (because birthdays are a big deal) is every bit as awesome as I know today is.

Happy 29th!!!

It is 29th, right?

Peace

Gi #m L

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The Last Day At the Firehouse

I’m officially unemployed.

Some might say unemployable, but that’s a story for another day.  Or maybe someone else’s blog.  This one is going to be about my last shift at the firehouse, specifically, my last day as firefighter/paramedic for the Village of Downers Grove.  I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never used the name of the Village or the FD here.   I didn’t want to take a chance on bringing down discipline if I shot my mouth off about something that irritated me in the moment, you know?  Don’t get me wrong, it was a great place to spend the last 25 years, but there have been issues from time-to-time.

But that’s not why you’re here.

Today’s post is going to be all sweetness and light.  And pictures.  Lots of pictures.  One of the perks of having a photojournalist in the family.

The day started with two old guys threatening to jump in the shower with me and just. kept. getting. better.  Actually, I lied.  the day started with my spotting an old “friend”.  If you remember this post You’ll recall my aversion to, of all things, a lamp.  So what to my wandering eyes should appear as I entered the day room for my last shift?

This –

Thanks to Red Shift (B or 2nd if you prefer) the lamp will be, for the rest of my days, a reminder of just how much fun life in the firehouse is.  That sucker burned brightly for 24 hours, until I gently unplugged it to take it out to the car for the trip home.  It will have an honored place, in every residence I have for the rest of my days.  To top it off, I walked in to the kitchen to find a couple of Red Shifters working away on biscuits and gravy to get the Festival To Me off on the right foot.  I knew something was up when I walked into the bunkroom to drop off my bag and the lights were all on and you guys were all awake (even Dan for cryin’ out loud) but I had no idea you guys took things to the level you did.  Thanks one and all.

Now, my intention for this post was to set my laptop out and put stuff on here throughout the day as I had a few idle moments.  The flaw in my plan became obvious quickly.

I had no idle moments.  There was a steady stream of visitors from 6:45 or so until after 2:00 yesterday afternoon.  I mean, nonstop.  When I say I was overwhelmed, that’s putting it mildly.  I mean, I figured (hoped) there’d be a nice turnout to bid me farewell, but the sheer volume of well-wishers left me speechless on more than one occasion yesterday.  That’s not an easy task either btw, leaving me speechless.  I saw friends from the Village and from Village Hall, friends from the union, friends from the FD, friends from the world of politics, friends from Good Sam, friends from all over.

Bob and TJ spent 10 hours cooking on Thursday, getting stuff ready for yesterday.  They made a ginormous batch of gumbo, jambalaya and beans and rice to feed all of our guests and it was Phe. Nominol.  It almost made me wish I’d eaten less from the mountain of baked goods that was dropped off in steady supply all day long.  Just a ridiculous amount of food.  Cal baked a carrot cake and a banana cake for me.   My Bonus Kid, Courtney, made RVCB’S! (editorial note, I’ve decided that henceforth RVCB’s shall always be followed by an exclamation point), banana bread and peanut butter cups.  Brief confession, at one point yesterday I was able to identify everything by who brought it.  I can’t do that now.  I apologize if you brought something and I left it and you out.  But Sweet Jesus there was a lot.

Late afternoon the steady stream slowed to a trickle, but some of my favorite nurses (spoiler alert, I have many) came from across the street to see me off.

Jo, Jenny, and Ida, we’ve had so many wonderful moments over the years.  You (almost) always greeted me with a smile, if not a hug, which btw helped to create somewhat of a legend around here so thanks for that, even if it was just to humor the harmless old guy.  Hearts to you and to so many other nurses, techs, secretaries, admissionists(?), and docs that I’ve crossed paths with over the years.  Truly some of the most talented medical peeps I’ve ever known.  And a lot of fun to hang with too.

Before I go any further, I need to give a shout out to one of my all-time favorite people.  Vinnie and his lovely (and incredibly tolerant.  I mean, saint-like) wife Terri stopped by to help see me into retirement.

Those two are on the short-list of people that have had my back in
so many ways over the last 14+ years.  They dropped off food when they knew we couldn’t deal with going to the store, they were just always there whenever I needed them.  To say I love you both somehow feels inadequate, but it’s the truth.  Thanks for everything.

Before I go any further, can I just say (fwiw I’m going to say it anyway) that yesterday and on in to today, social media has been a source of greater joy than probably any time in the ten years or so I’ve been active on it.  The sheer volume of posts made in tribute to me, misguided though they may be, almost literally brought me to tears.  I saw posts from across the country, wishing me well.  You people rock.

Moving on.

Most of the kids and grandkids came by for dinner.  The Quiet Child, Boy Genius, and Reigning Princess couldn’t make it in, because sometimes stuff happens.  The rest of the crew got in to join us for dinner; home made, deep-dish pizza courtesy of Chef Bob and it was just stellar, as always.  Perhaps not surprisingly, meals like that are one of the things I’m really going to miss.  Scenes like this one-

 are irreplaceable.  The camaraderie  brought to a group that eats together, shared time to discuss shared memories, shared tasks, shared goals, successes, and even sometimes, shared failures are at the heart of what we do.  So many of the world’s problems are “solved” at firehouse tables each and every day.

I’ll miss that.

As I get near the end of this, I’ve got a couple more thoughts.  First, to my many firehouse families; I was, am, and always will be proud to have worked with you.  Whether on the streets of our Village, at the bargaining table, the union hall, or at the Legislature of our state or our nation.  We always put the lives, wants, and needs of others before our own.  It’s what we do and a large part of who we are.  Don’t ever stop doing that.

Thanks for many great meals, many great runs, many great conversations, and for letting me be a part of your lives.  You’ve all been a big part of mine.  I’ll cherish our times together, good and bad, I promise I’ll check in when I’m in town.  And you’ve always got a place to stay if you get out by me.  As long as you cook.  Just sayin…

To my IRL family-

Thanks so much for being you.  Each one of you has a larger role than you know in getting me from Point “A” to Point “B” and you’ve all made the trip not only worthwhile, but so much more enjoyable.  I can’t imagine, nor do i want to imagine, where I’d be without you.  It may be from a distance soon, but I can’t wait to watch each of you evolve towards what, and who, you will become.  I couldn’t be more proud of all of you.  I love you.

Even though I could go on a little longer with this, I’m going to leave it with one final picture from yesterday.  I think this kind of sums everything up nicely for me.

Peace.

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The Penultimate Shift

I’ve got so many things spinning around my brain, each one a thing I want to try and dive into before I dodder off into retirement.

But then, the weekend happened, and plans, as they often do, changed.

And before I go any further, I need to offer my heartfelt thanks to everyone that reached out to me, whether by text, phone call, or comments; made either on social media, IRL, or in the comments here, for the kind words and thoughts.  There were more than a few that brought tears to my eyes and I’m so truly grateful for each of you.

I was also fortunate that my friend, the internationally known podcaster, Seth Rainwater and his Dad, Rick, drove up from south Arkansas to hang out with me for a few days before I get out of here.  The timing was random, but couldn’t have been more fortuitous, given Sophie’s demise.  We had many laughs the last couple days and Seth rode with us for the first half of the shift yesterday.

Typically, when we have a rider with us, we suffer what is commonly referred to as the “curse of the rider” which means, in a nutshell, we get shut out.  As in, no calls for the day.  Seth, however, shattered that curse.  Two calls back to back right out of the chute at 7:00 AM, were followed by ten more before dinner.  Twelve calls, in the first twelve hours, plus EMS training made for a very busy day, but the timing was really quite good since neither lunch nor dinner was terribly affected.  We finished the shift off by running two after Seth left and two more after midnight, so for my next-to-last shift, sixteen was the not-so-sweet total.  For a little reference, on average, as a department, we run sixteen calls per day.  Yesterday, we busted the curve.  Not that I mind, as I’ve said, I take great pride in working out of the busiest house in town so in my mind, this was a pretty good way to start sliding into home plate.

Of course, if the powers that be decide to pitch a shutout at us on Friday, I’m perfectly fine with that too.

Just sayin’

I have many more things I want to say, and a person or two that I want to say some things about, but today, instead, I think I’d like to focus on my guys.

I’ve been blessed throughout my career, to have worked with some incredibly skilled firefighters and paramedics.  I listed some of those guys a post or two back, and I meant everything I said, but I didn’t mention my current crew, because I knew I wanted to tip my proverbial hat to them here.  In order of seniority- Rob my brand new Lieutenant, is off to a fine start (except for questioning my judgement on whether I can fit the engine through a tight spot, or know the best way to get around MY STILL DISTRICT) fitting in quite nicely to our little family on the fly and that’s not an easy task.  He’s very bright, reads a room well, uses each of our strengths well and gives us enough leash to have a little fun, while keeping us reined in enough to keep out of trouble.  I have no doubt he’ll continue to cultivate these guys to become the best they can be.  Wink is our wounded warrior, he’s been off for several months after a work-related injury.  One of his light-duty assignments was working the reception desk at Village Hall.  He’s quite popular with the ladies that work there.  As we’re fond of telling him, it’s taken him 24 years, but he’s finally found his niche.  TJ is one of the smartest guys I’ve worked with and he’s got a huge heart.  He and his wife do advocacy work for disadvantaged kids and I can’t think of a better way to sing his praises than that.  Bob has a twisted ish sense of humor that helps keep things loose around the firehouse, but to classify him as a joker diminishes his abilities on the job.  Mike is our new guy.  He’s often the butt of our jokes, as a new guy should be, and he accepts our slings and arrows with great humor.  Plus, as I like to tell him when he says something a little odd, he’s so pretty.  To his credit though, he no longer thinks everyone’s first name is Kevin, so learning has occurred.  Collectively we’re a high functioning group, and we’ve established a great bond in our time together.  I don’t, for one second, believe they’ll skip a single beat after the festival to me has finished and I’ve moved on and I’m more than a little disappointed in myself for not having a picture of these guys to post up in here.

I think I’ve mentioned it before, while there will be many things I won’t miss around here, hanging out with my guys is something I’m going to miss greatly for a very long time.  We shared many laughs and many unforgettable moments and those will carry me through for a long time as well.  I truly cherish each and every one of you and I’ll carry the five of you with me for rest of my days.

Mi casa su casa.

And, speaking of casa, it’s time for me to make my way to mine.  Empty, for the first time.  Sigh.

Peace

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“Jake” We Hardly Knew Ye

Since my days here at the DGFD are dwindling down to a precious few (shameless lyric plagiarism alert) I figured I’d better take full advantage while stuff is fresh(ish) in my mind.

We caught two back-to-back this morning, fairly quickly out of the chute.  After we returned to the firehouse, while wandering around the apparatus bay floor mid-project, I noticed a pigeon sitting out behind the station.  In and of itself this is a little out of the ordinary, we don’t seem to have very many pigeons hanging around here.  I’m not sure why, we just don’t.  So I noticed him (truth be told, I didn’t check the gender. Furthermore, I’m not sure how to check even if I had) I also noticed (Hey, pigeon A&P wasn’t part of my paramedic training, so what can I say?) he seemed to be sitting in an awkward position.  I finished my project and decided to walk out and see if there was something wrong with the pigeon.

He let me get fairly close to him, maybe four or five feet away, without any response on his part.  His right wing seemed to be out of whack (medical term).  I figured he got clipped by a car since Highland Avenue was about fifty feet from where he sat and it’s four lanes of people basically ignoring the 35 mph speed limit.  I asked TJ, our resident quinoa expert, if quinoa was a grain.  He said he thought it was.  I knew we didn’t have any bird seed here but I was reasonably sure we had quinoa.  Don’t ask.  Young guys.  Any way, I grabbed a handful and it looked enough like bird seed to satisfy me.  I took it out to the bird and dropped it down in front of him.  As I did, he (the bird, not TJ btw) staggered a couple of feet away.

By this time, TJ and Rob both came out to see what I was doing.  As we talked about the pigeon, TJ asked about the name of the crow from Shawshank Redemption and thus, a firehouse name was born. Jake the pigeon seemed indifferent towards my choice of food for him.  I figured something needed to be done and since we have no pigeon specific protocols to follow, I started making the rounds telephonically to see what could be done.

Take a guess how many phone calls it took to find a pigeon person.  Go ahead, I’ll wait…

If you said seven, you win.

Now, in the time it took me to make these seven phone calls we ran to the Jewels for the days groceries, in fact I made five of the calls while Rob and TJ knocked out the shopping.  As we were paying for our groceries, we caught a call, followed immediately by another.  So by the time we got back to the house maybe 45 minutes had passed.  As we pulled up to the back door I looked for Jake but couldn’t see him.

Until Rob pointed out a small, feathered, lump laying right next to the garage door.  Poor Jake had met his maker.  Of course Rob quickly pointed out that it was probably due to dehydration, since I’d neglected to put any water out for Jake.  Or the possibility that quinoa is not, in fact, bird seed and that it exploded in Jake’s gullet hastening his shuffle off this mortal coil.

Sigh.

Lastly, I just want to give a shout to my first Captain from here.  The doorbell rang this afternoon and in walked Paul.  I haven’t seen him in quite some time and I told him I was honored he stopped by to wish me well.  I meant it too.  He was a good dude to work for and I learned a lot from him in our short time together.  We chatted for a little bit, talked about the old days as well as more recent events and then it was time for him to go.

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, the people around here are what will be missed.  Well, most of them.  When I thought about what I was going to do with this today it was going to go off in a completely different direction.  Kind of a “Bob, why do you hate me?” turn.

Until Jake started me off on this track.

Maybe next time.

Peace.

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Step By Step

So, if you’ve come by here (or the other place) you’re probably aware that I’m retiring from the FD.  This place has been many things for me, and to me for that matter.  Not the least of which is as fodder for my writing.  I’ve gleaned multiple posts from the adventures, and misadventures of the guys I work with.  Myself included.

But, the end is getting closer, as ends are inclined to do.

To wit; I’ve turned in my paper.

As I told the kids when I sent them a group text- it’s officially official.  September 15th will be the last day I spend in a firehouse.  That feels weird to say btw.  Not bad mind you, just… weird.  I’ve tried really hard to maintain some type of normal identity.  It’s so easy to let this job become all-encompassing and I don’t know that that is entirely healthy.  I love my job, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve never been “that” guy that has to, for example, drive to and from work in uniform.  I don’t ask if there’s a “government employee” discount anymore.  Although if I should happen to get pulled over for speeding I won’t hesitate to offer that info up to the police officer that pulls me over.

If that should happen, that is.  And it hasn’t happened for a really long time fwiw.  I still remember that event too, lol.  Diane and I were driving one of the Quiet Child’s friends home after a sleepover or something, three teenage girls in the back seat chatting away about god knows what.  I saw the cop pull out behind me in my mirror, looked at my speed and saw him flip his lights on.  Hopefully I didn’t use too bad of a word to express my feelings, what with the girls in the back seat.  But I pulled right over and rolled down my window.  When the officer came up to me and asked if I knew how fast I was going (as I recall it was 10 or so over the limit, in town) I told him I did, I apologized, and I asked if it mattered that I was a firefighter.  He asked where, I told him, he rolled his eyes, handed back my license and told me to slow down.

Anyway, the Oldest One asked me if I was excited.  This is apparently a theme, since almost every step along the way someone asks me if I’m excited about what looms ahead.  My answer to her, and it’s become my standard response, is this…

Have you ever known the word “excited” to describe me?

To which the family photojournalist replied “You are the most excited I’ve ever seen you around baked goods and I’m sure there will be plenty”  Just another example of what a smart woman she is.

Now, mind you, I’m not actively soliciting baked goods for my last day.  But if you feel the need, well, who am I to deny you?

But I actually did request something for my last day.  I asked that, instead of having a big reception at our headquarters station, if we could just do an open house type thing at Station 3 I would prefer that.  The FD administration graciously agreed.  The guys I work with have done a great job of looking out for the old guy for the last couple years, and they all supported my idea and I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to the amount of amazing food that will be put out for the day.  If you’re in the are on the 15th, stop by and say “Hi”.

There are many, many things I won’t miss about “the job”.  Getting up in the middle of the night for an abuse of the 9-1-1 system, standing at the pump panel in mid January, in three inches of ice and slush at a house fire, wrestling with drunks or psych calls that went south, I could go on and on.

But what I will miss, and what I could not (even if I wanted to) replace is the friendships, the esprit de corps, the feeling of being a part of something bigger than oneself that this job foists upon you.  I owe so much to so many for making me, not only a better firefighter/paramedic, but for making me a better human being.

I typically don’t like to try to list people, out of fear I’ll forget someone but without John, Bill, Mike, Norm, Jeff, Cal, Jim, Vin, Tommy, Kevin, Jerry and all the rest I wouldn’t be near the man I am (or think I am) today.  I’ve worked with some amazing crews and witnessed cohesion you can’t imagine and I’m grateful for that too.

A lot of times there is talk of Brotherhood in this job and I have no better example of that bond than this.  When Diane died, while meeting with the funeral director to make her arrangements we got to the part about who her pallbearers would be.  The director suggested that perhaps we could use her nephews and fill in with her brothers.  I didn’t want that, I felt their time should be spent mourning.  I called Vin.  We were partners at the time, and he had told me a day or two earlier that the guys from Local 3234 wanted to do something to help.  So I asked him to get some pallbearers.  And I promptly forgot about it because I knew the guys I worked with would take care of me.  So now, as I look back on the brothers I served with, I want to thank John, Joe, Phil, Jim, Tom and Vin for what you guys did for my family that day.  I know I thanked you all back then, but I don’t believe it’s humanly possible to thank you enough.  

I love you guys.

From the bottom of my heart.

Peace