Damn Those Were Good Cookies....

Sometimes the taste of the simplest foods brings memories shooting into my mind. In this case, it was nothing more than a slightly stale chocolate chip cookie.

The screams cut through us like a well honed knife, over and over. Peter and I were waiting for the Rescue and could do nothing but listen. It was early Sunday morning, and where the call placed the accident, I figured a car had gone into the ditch. I almost didn’t go, as it sounded like it would be a minor routine deal, and I had a bunch of plans that morning.

The young lady had definitely gone into the ditch. The car had then rolled and with her not wearing her seat belt, she had been partially ejected. Unfortunately, she had gone through the windshield and was now pinned by the car which was on its roof.

We were able to barely get to her to try to calm her a bit until the rescue got on scene, but that was all. It didn’t stop the screams. When the rescue arrived, we had the crew pull every stitch of cribbing off. The air bags were set up and we started to lift. Greenfield arrived and began to add their cribbing to the pile. We had to build multiple Lincoln Log towers with the 4 x 4 lumber, then lift again and build higher. The pile was decreasing a lot faster than it was increasing. It was taking a lumber yard to get this car up.

Slowly we began to get access. The mud and the proximity of the ditch were complicating factors, greatly adding to the amount of wood we had to use to maintain the stability of the vehicle.

With only a few precious pieces remaining, the car was finally high enough that we could slide her out, and onto a backboard. Her injuries were not severe but it took a while before we could get close enough to verify that. She was a lucky kid.

A couple of weeks later, a thank you note and a tin of home baked cookies arrived at the fire house from her. She was a pretty young girl, going to school and working part time. That she’d taken the time to bake those cookies to say thank you meant a lot to me and others. By the time I got one, they’d been there for a few days and were starting to get stale. Didn’t matter; damn those were good cookies.

Initiation

That the Probie was not a rocket scientist was apparent. Like all, he had to go through an initiation—hazing some would call it. Unlike most, he fell for everything they threw at him.

The water fountain was a case in point. A standard brown industrial model with a silver curved outlet and drain in the center of the bowl; identical to the type the kid had to have seen hundreds of times before in elementary school. The three guys working him over weren’t much past him chronologically. They were ages older experience wise, however.

“Don’t you know one of your jobs is to make sure this water fountain is full,” one of them told him.

“Jesus, you don’t want it to run dry,” said the second.

Unaware, the Captain walked out of his office and dumped the remnants of ice and water from a cup into the drain and turned back.

“Holy shit, you don’t want the Captain having to fill the thing for you do you?” said the third. The Captain pretended to hear nothing and with a slight shake of his head, returned to the stacks of paper work in his office, having seen this, or similar routines hundreds of times before.

From the look on the rookies face the three knew they had him hooked and proceeded to other tasks while watching the kid out of the corner of their eyes. Probie found the largest pot he could in the kitchen and proceeded to fill it with about five gallons of water. Lugging it over, he tipped the awkward vessel up to fill what he was convinced was the fountain reservoir. The drain, not sized to take more than the small stream from the quarter inch outlet, immediately overflowed, soaking the kid and the surrounding floor. The Captain walked out of his office, surveyed the wet floor and Probie, shook his head again, and returned to his office. The laughter from the three “older” firefighters was loud, but another lesson was learned, and tradition passed on.

RIP Ralph

We lost Ralph this past weekend, a shock due to the unexpectedness. I have to believe he's in a better place now, and will be playing golf every day while waiting for the New York Giants to take the field this fall.

I'm guessing there might be an ambulance up there, hopefully orange and white in color. It probably doesn't get much use, but that will be fine with Ralph; he spent more than his share of time running calls in one on this earth.

If there is an orange and white camper, as we used to call it, up there, he's staffing it with John, who we lost a few years back. Ralph and John were the Mutt and Jeff of ambulance officer's who could finish each others sentences and were inseparable.

Ralph's wonderful wife Pat asked for the picture of the three of us for his wake. She said it meant so much that it was in the book. It means a lot to me that she would think so but feels so very strange to look at it now as the last man standing.

RIP Ralph, you will be missed.

Why?

Why?—a simple question firefighters should be asking more.

Why don’t we have more cost effective access to technology? From the time the first firefighter entered a burning building, visibility—seeing through smoke—has been an issue. Bulky hand held infrared cameras became the so-called solution. Heavy, costly, and typically limited in quantity, they gave one or two guys the clear knowledge of what’s around them while everyone else continues to do it the old fashioned way—blind. Why doesn’t every SCBA face piece have a head’s up display with an infrared picture?

We’ve known for around two hundred years that sprinklers are our best friend in controlling fires and yet they aren’t required in new construction in some states. One state—Pennsylvania—actually repealed their mandatory sprinkler law after a rabid lobbying campaign by the building construction boys. Why?

We continue to open roofs manually that we’ve reached with aerial ladders or platforms. How come there isn’t an automated device attached to the end of the stick that can quickly and safely open the roof, controlled by an operator on the ground or ladder. Why?

How come we train our people in artificial environments that bear about as much relation to real burning buildings as Congress does to a deliberative body? Ooops, I forgot. We used to train in real environments but can’t anymore. Nevermind.

Finally, do you, like me, wonder why the simple practice of painting a piece of equipment, that is used in hundreds of industries, the color red and putting the word “fire” in it’s name automatically increases the price three fold. Why?

Technology, a wonderful thing?

Technology can be a wonderful thing—sometimes. Twice in the last month, I’ve been able to watch video of fire ground operations, and see my son go in the door—exciting and heartwarming stuff—at least to me.

“Michelle, come see this, it’s great.” She stared silently at the computer screen, hearing the sirens from incoming apparatus, the breaking of glass in the building, the thump of ladders hitting the exterior walls. Music to my ears. Her face had a pinched look, lips drawn together.

“There’s Mike,” I pointed to a firefighter going in the doorway of the burning building. There was a narrowing of her eyes.

“Are you trying to make my acid reflux act up on purpose?” she asked.

“Why, this is just good solid work here—nothing out of the ordinary or exceptionally dangerous.”

I don’t want to know if that’s what he’s doing all the time, and I definitely don’t want to see. Look, there’s fire up there over his head where he just went in,” she said.

“That’s fine,” I said, “they’re getting it from the inside.”

“Thanks, I’ve seen enough. I don’t want to know.”

I remember my Mom used to enjoy seeing an occasional fire, until I joined. Then her reaction became similar to Michelle’s. I guess it’s a good thing YouTube didn’t exist when I was coming up……

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N5tfIAx1rRo&feature=view_all&list=PL83AB0D629298E195&index=0

A Few Blurbs For "Fire Men: Stories From Three Generations of a Firefighting Family."

Just a few blurbs for the book..... From the first page, Ryman hits the nail on the head. He provides a riveting look at the fire service as whole and the evolution of the business over the last two decades. Every fire fighter should read this. Old ones to reminisce, young ones to appreciate where we came from.

Fred Bales, CFPS
Pennsylvania State Fire Instructor Past Chief, Greenfield Fire Company

This guy caught a lot of fire. "Fire Men" is a must-read around the firehouse or your house. Gary Ryman is a master storeyteller.

Tiger Schmittendorf Chief Storyteller-Runtothecurb.com

I absolutely loved this book! It's full of adventure and suspense and family and friends and wrapping it all up with a great big bow is the complete dedication these firefighters have. They truly are a breed apart and this book gives us a look into their extordinary lives. What a teriffic read!

Hildy Morgan Executive Director, Wyoming County Cultural Center at the Dietrich Theater

Release Date

Well, I've signed the contract and we're getting closer. I've been quite negligent regarding posting here, but do have good news. My book, now titled Fire Men: Stories From Three Generations of a Firefighting Family will be released on May 1st by Tribute books. The last many months have been filled with editing and the selection of pictures. Now, everything on my end is done. April will be a long month of waiting.........