"Living The Dream"

The experience of being a live-in firefighter is one that most who have ever done it would not trade for anything.  “Living the dream,” it is called by many, particularly those who never had the opportunity, and they are not wrong. 

A few things do change, arguably for the better, after you move out and on.  Language is one.  Fire stations are not kind to the vocabulary.  The F-word is not only a noun, verb, and adjective, but in skilled firehouse hands, can be used as punctuation.  I remember having to consciously restrict myself when outside the station in “normal” company to avoid saying things like “pass the f@^*ing potatoes.”   As time passes, so does the propensity to use the F-word in every sentence.  Once or twice a paragraph suffices. 

Sleep improves as well.  When living in the station, I think I slept eight straight hours once a week, maybe.  Between calls, staying up late bullshitting, and calls, three to five hours was a normal night’s sleep.  This experience is excellent practice for the period following the birth of your first and subsequent children.  That amount of sleep would now leave me on a continuous coffee intravenous. 

The live-in opportunity is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Thankfully, it is one you only get to do when you’re young. 

Busy Few Days

It's been a busy end of the week for Generation 3.  Mike has run four workers in less than four days.......so far.

"Quarterback" Size-up. Interesting Analogies

The start of football season brings out the talking heads and sports commentators who spend an inordinate amount of time talking about the mental skillset necessary to play the position of quarterback at a high level; making it sound like the most difficult job on earth.  While admittedly I have no desire to stand in front of a snarling 350 pound lineman trying to make my body intimate friends with the grass, I do think that the situational awareness necessary for rapid decision making under center presents some interesting parallels to fire scene size-up.  With a pass play called, quarterbacks go to the line of scrimmage and see a defensive formation that may give an accurate representation of the opposition’s intentions or may be deceptive.  At the snap, he has a few short seconds to read the scene and hopefully be able to locate and connect with his primary receiver.  If covered, he then has to check down and look for his secondary or tertiary outlet.  He has to avoid getting tunnel vision as the defense converges and move, bob, and weave while continuing to look down field; big picture and small, refining his tactics based on what he sees. 

The first arriving fire officer on a residential structure fire faces similar challenges.  What “formation” is the fire showing and is it deceptive or obvious.  In just a few seconds, the officer needs to evaluate the construction, occupancy, exposures; read the smoke and extent of the fire conditions present on all those.  He can then audible his strategy and the associated tactics.  The firefighters under him have a similar complex job to do looking at primary and secondary escape routes and continually evaluating the effect that the fire is having on the structural integrity of the building so they too can check down and adjust their attack and team actions if necessary. 

The similarities are obvious although the salary levels are not.  The stakes on the correct decision making on the fire side are a little higher than a sack, incomplete pass or interception.

 

My Wish List for the Next Generation of Firefighters

Communications integrated into the helmet and face piece.  The tinny speakers in masks never worked right and it’s ridiculous to try to talk through face pieces.  Extension microphones are actually getting bigger, not smaller, unlike every other piece of technology in the world.

An infrared heads up display in the face piece.  There are no reasons that every firefighter shouldn’t have a camera, and no reason you should have to carry the thing. 

Apparatus designs in which hose and equipment can be reached from the ground.  This isn’t so much reengineering as it is going retro.  When I started, you could reach the pre-connects in the rear from the ground, and standing on the tailboard, you could see the driver.  There is no reason we need ladders on apparatus to reach our own equipment.  You shouldn’t have to practically set up scaffolding to reload the hose bed. 

C’mon folks; we had guys walking around on the moon in 1969; there is no reason we can’t have these simple items on a cost effective, and importantly, firefighter proof configuration. 

The Times Have Changed…Maybe Not

I recently came across a fascinating historical document.  The rules and regulations for the Los Angeles Fire Department from 1901 are, in many respects, not much different than those in place in many departments today, a century removed.  One major difference was apparatus propulsion, the turn of the century still being what we view as the romantic era of the horses.  Contrary to the opinion of the third generation, his father (me) and grandfather had no actual experience in the horse drawn days.  After reading the policies relating to the care for the diesel engines of the day, one wonders if the brothers then viewed them with the fond nostalgia we do.  The rules show the importance of the animals was paramount

RULE 13.
CARE OF HORSES, APPARATUS, HOSE, ETC.

SECTION 1. Horses shall be fed not more than four quarts of grain and about twenty pounds of hay daily, and twice a week shall be fed a bran mash.

SEC. 2. Hours for feeding horses shall be 6.30 A.M. and 4.00 P.M., and must be watered at least thirty minutes before feeding time.

SEC. 3. Horses shall be thoroughly groomed every morning, their hoofs picked out and cleaned, their manes and tails washed with soap and water once every week and thoroughly dried after washing; the sheath shall be washed every two weeks. Grey or white horses may have stains sponged off with warm water and soap, but must be thoroughly dried immediately. White legs may be washed in the same manner, otherwise the legs must never be washed. Washing horses is strictly forbidden, unless by permission of the Chief Engineer, and then only with bucket and sponge.

SEC. 4. On returning from an alarm, horses' mouths and nostrils must be sponged out, and may be given a few swallows of water, and, if warm, must be scraped, rubbed dry, and blanketed. Sweat should be removed from around the eyes and under the tail with a damp sponge. Horses must never be given grain while hot after a run or exercise.

SEC. 5. Teasing or annoying horses, or teaching them tricks is strictly forbidden.

SEC. 6. Horses shall be exercised daily within three blocks of the house, for a period of not less than one-half-hour, hitched to the apparatus (Sundays excepted). In wet weather the horses shall be exercised without the apparatus.

SEC. 7. A bucket must not be used to catch the horse's urine in, nor shall they be taught any like peculiarities. If a horse is staining to urinate, straw should be shaken under him. The stall should be washed out immediately and all manure must be removed immediately.

SEC. 8. If a horse is injured or shows signs of sickness the commanding officer of the company must be notified at once.

SEC. 9. Horses must be treated kindly, taught by kindness to come promptly to their place and perform their part of the service without the unnecessary use of the whip. The unnecessary use of a whip by any member will subject the offender to suspension or dismissal.

Morning check-out, washing rigs, changing fluids, filters, adding fuel, waxing (grooming); reporting mechanical problems or accidents—maybe things haven’t changed much after all. 

1901 LAFD Rules & Regulations

Upcoming TV Appearance

I will be appearing on PA Live on WBRE Channel 28 on Friday, July 27th with Dave Kuharchik and Monica Madeja to talk about "Fire Men:  Stories From Three Generations of a Firefighting Family." Tune in at 4:00 PM to watch!

Fire Men: Stories From Three Generations of a Firefighting Family

Cats, Bats, and Stubbed Toes

We’ve all heard the stories of people visiting Emergency Rooms for stubbed toes—this is real—I have personally responded on an ambulance call for a person with a stubbed toe.  The fire department equivalent, again real, is the stereotypical cat stuck in the tree.  My father had the best response I’ve ever heard when the dispatcher would call with a report from a citizen of a feline atop a sapling.  “Tell the caller we’ve never seen a cat skeleton in a tree yet.  When the kitty gets hungry enough, it’ll come down.”  End of discussion.  Other animal control calls for squirrels or bats in houses get filed in this miscellaneous category. 

Less amusing was a recent incident I heard about where a citizen broke a fire truck windshield; literally beat a spider web of cracks in it with his bare hands, because the fire department couldn’t make his power come back on after a storm. 

What some members of the public fail to remember at times is that it costs money every time a fire truck turns a wheel.  Fuel, wear and tear, and indirect costs like insurance are all part of the equation every time a piece of apparatus moves.  That’s the mechanical side; more importantly there is wear and tear on people too.  Ill maintained and malfunctioning alarm systems are the bane of our existence.  No fine or penalty seems sufficient after the third straight night of a false alarm at the same place at 3:00 AM. 

The unnecessary, abusive, and downright strange calls continue to make up more than their fair share of any department’s call volume.  You have to go, though, ‘cause that’s what we do. 

The Final Count: 48 Hours From the Inland Hurricaine

The Maryland, DC, and Virginia area was pummelled by what some have decribed as an inland hurricaine.  Wind gusts to 90 miles an hour, and heavy rain fall combined to cause wide spread damage, power disruptions which may not be resolved for a week, and countless emegency runs.  The station where my son Michael lives in Montgomery County was in the midst of this, and in 48 hours, ran 52 calls.  Many were wires and trees down, automatic fire alarms, etc., but others were more serious.  These included

4 box alarms for structure fires
1 fatal wreck with one down the embankment and ejected
3 collapse calls for the squad
2 transfers to Howard county for the tower

All the above was in temperatures exceeding 100 degrees at times, and regularly in the high 90s.  Not exactly a "fun" weekend. 

A Sarcastic History of Portable Radios

I have seen an evolution in portable radios which goes from the Paleozoic to Bill Gates.  One of the first portable radios I ever used was a single channel RCA model about the size of a squished loaf of bread, but weighing considerably more.    Unless you had hands the size of a linebacker, it took two to actually use the thing; one to hold it and the other to key the transmit button.  The next generation was a four channel Motorola, two of which we didn’t need, slightly bigger than a brick and about the same weight.   They were damn good radios that took a licking and kept on ticking.  Extension microphones came next which put the most important parts of the radio on your collar, the speaker and the mic itself.  All you had to do is turn your head, mash the button on the side and talk. 

Initially, only Chief’s had portables, then company officers, and now everyone.  The rapid expansion in radio availability turned the fire ground from a nice quiet, pleasant place, into a cacophony of noise, squeals, screamers, and those that loved the sound of their own voice.  Eventually, most places establish communications policies that reined in the worst offenders, but you can still hear the white noise in some areas. 

Interoperability became the next buzz word, with the so called need to be able to talk to the world, and as the size of radios decreased, the channel capacity increased until the hundred channel radio became ubiquitous.  Most of these units would live, die, and be replaced with the next latest and greatest model without ever having used more than ten percent of the channels they contained, but it was critical to have the secondary fire police channel of some department three counties away that you had never, in the history of the department, ever run with. 

Now the radios will talk to you, Siri-like, although they won’t answer questions –yet, or tell you where to get a good pizza on the way back to the station (hint, hint Mr. Motorola—just kidding).  The radio lady, Sophie I’ll call her, tells you what channel you’re on.  Good thing, cause it’s not like I can remember who or what is on channel 63. 

The extension mics have started to grow also, and now are almost as big as the radios they are attached to.  Speaker and mic button aren’t enough now; volume controls and a mayday alert, all of which supposedly can be worked by gloved hands in the dark.  Good luck.  Makes me wonder why we need the extension mics anymore—just attach the radio to the collar.

Technology is a wonderful thing, but the complexity has reached the level that I pine for the days when you didn’t need an electrical engineering degree to use a portable.   Maybe, just maybe,  RCA will start making radios again. 

Micro Manager Metric Maniacs

The overwrought alliteration shows my disdain.  They are everywhere, but they use code words to describe themselves.  I’m “detail oriented” they say.  Never will one introduce themselves and say, “hi, I’m a micromanager.”   Their involvement in every aspect of operations is necessary, because no one can live up to their expectations. 

One chief who was an administrative nightmare to work for had many of these characteristics.   I called him a “shotgun manager.”  He never met an idea he didn’t like, so there were a hundred projects all in progress at the same time.  Because of this and the necessity for his involvement in everything—he couldn’t delegate to save his life—that meant that nothing ever was completed.  Since everything was a priority, nothing was.  Luckily, he wasn’t like this on the fire ground (fire ground micromanagers are even more scary) , and to this chief’s credit, he eventually evolved, changed, and improved, but that is the exception with this type of manager, not the rule. 

The data collectors are worse.  They never met a metric or measurement they didn’t like.  Just because an activity is quantifiable doesn’t mean it should be.  The argument is that the “workers” only do well what is checked—so these guys check everything.  When we measure everything, the same shotgun result occurs.  Since everything is a priority, nothing really is. 

My contention has long been there are typically four or five big important things that make an organization successful.  Measure and take good care of those, and everything else—the details—will take care of themselves.  I never thought it was rocket science, but maybe it is.  Einstein said “not everything that can be counted counts, and not everything that counts can be counted.” 

Educating The Public…Or the local pastor meets the live-ins.

The fire department board of directors had a position available for a public representative. This gave the board members the benefit of some outside civilian advice and simultaneously provided the opportunity for non-affiliated community members to gain an understanding and education of the work of the emergency responders.

The new year brought a new community member to the board, the pastor of a local church. The lady minister was enthusiastic about her new responsibilities and appreciative of the services the firefighters provided.

On Valentines Day, she decided to show this appreciation by giving each of the live-in firefighters small goody bags. Rather than leave the bags in the kitchen or at the watch desk, she wanted to deliver them herself, and so proceeded into the bunk room. She walked through the open portion, already vacated earlier that morning, to a row of individual rooms assigned to some of the live-in firefighters.

She began hanging the bags on the knob of each door. One of the items in the goody bags was a container of silly string, not necessarily the greatest selection for a group of mischievous young firefighters. As she proceeded, one young bleary eyed live-in opened his door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, to find the bag. Watching the good lady, he saw one of his fellow live-ins exit his room as well. The underwear clad firefighter stunned the pastor, her eyes opening wide. Her education had begun…….