January 29 – “Chappy’s Fault”

Trish emailed me to let me know my uniform order was in.  I finally was getting some pants and a department jacket for when I go to fires.  I also got a short sleeved white shirt.  I figured it would be a good opportunity to deliver the Bibles Chris and I got for the new babies to the department.  No, I don’t mean rookies.  There have been eight babies born to fire fighter families in the last five months, with two sets of twins.  Congrats to all, of course. 

I arrived just as engine 1 was leaving for some driver training, so I went up and talked to the chief for a while.  I headed from there over to station 2 where one of the new Dads was scheduled to be working.  Turned out he was on vacation up in Seattle.  That’s a long way to go to avoid the chaplain, Josh.  It was still good to talk to that crew, even though I did make the horrible mistake of saying the “S” word.  That would be S-L-O-W, and if you are reading this, don’t say the word out loud.  It’s kind of a jinx thing they have.  I went back by Central station and saw the newest Dad.  He has one of the sets of twins.  They aren’t home yet.  They are still in NICU, but they seem to be doing just fine.  Just waiting on them to develop the proper skill set for handling Mom and dad when they get home.  I saw the other twins’ Dad at station 5, and then went out to station 4 where the driver training was taking place.  I had to wait almost an hour with some of our veteran fire fighters, but two other Dads finally made it back, and I delivered their Bibles as well. 

I got home in plenty of time for the great chicken enchilada pie Chris made for supper.  But the relaxing evening I envisioned didn’t exactly go as planned.  Around 8:00 the alarm on my phone went off indicating a fire call.  That’s one I always take a second look at (Along with quite a few other guys).  There smoke coming from the master bedroom but no visible flames.  I decided to head on over to see what was happening.  And once again, I wasn’t alone.  It was considered a major fire call, so at least four of our engines and one ladder truck responded.  When I got there the smoke was still visible coming through the rafters.  Our fire fighters were in search and discovery mode, looking for the source of the fire, while doing their best to preserve the property, using thermal readings along with the two “E’s” – Eyeballs and Experience.  They located a spot under the uniquely built house (pier and bean foundation, but with brick completely covering the crawl space except for some small slits every so often).  The team inside was tasked with removing some bathroom tile so the attack could happen from above.  I understand our Rookie Gonzo Gonzalez did a masterful job at this task.  Another crew coupled some hoses together to make them long enough, then sent a stream under the house.  By the time the fire was out, both chiefs were on the scene.  Every fire fighter acted and reacted professionally.  They sure made me proud.

I gotta say, one of my favorite sights of the evening, though, was not directly related to the fore or to the expertise of the fire fighters.  I was talking with a police officer on the scene, and we noticed a particular group of concerned neighbors across the street.  Now, concerned neighbors are never a bad thing.  Their presence usually ensures that the homeowners of the house on fire will have some support through their recovery and remodel process.  The officer chuckled and said, “I have never seen that one.  I have seen folks pull up in pickup trucks, drop the tailgate down, and drink a beer while watching a fire, but that is a new one.”  I haven’t been around all that long, but I certainly had to agree.  It was a group of men.  One of them was dressed to the hilt.  Still had his tie on.  And he was drinking some wine.  From one of those large, long-stemmed wine glasses.  You have to admit, he certainly classed up the whole affair.  Guess I don’t have to mention that we were in an … elite … neighborhood.

At one point after the fire had been declared “officially out,” I heard my name being called.  Took me a second or two to locate where the cry was coming from, but it was the crew from station 2 calling me over.  And as I arrived in their midst, I immediately knew.  I remembered.  And I took responsibility.  I was the one who said the “S” word earlier that morning.  So I guess this one goes in the books as “Chappy’s fault.” 

Psalms 121:1-2 says, “I lift up my eyes to the hills — where does my help come from?   My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.”

Father, walk with the family who experienced that fire last night.  Thank you that it wasn’t much worse.  It sure could have been.  Thank you for the guys who worked so hard to make sure it was contained and defeated.  Give them a good time of rest today.  Amen.