When I stopped for coffee the other morning, the Raisin Squad had just finished solving the day’s major problems – out of control school taxes, biased TV news commentators, too many pot holes in the streets, and no more senior citizen discounts at local restaurants.
Seeking a new target, one asked me why I always criticize old people in the fire service. I replied, I can because I am one and besides just mentioning old age isn’t criticizing. Age is a contentious fact of life that many volunteer departments cannot or will not address. I made a mental note to write a piece later about old people serving as firefighters. Squad members are hypocrites. Most of us are white-haired raisins ranging from our mid-60s to almost 80. Included are former chiefs and even some semiactive (noninterior qualified) members. I always say old timers tell tall tales, stretch the truth, or outright lie so we have to prove half the stuff we’re saying. The proof can be found in photographs, newspaper clippings, or verbal substantiation by at least two people not yet collecting social security. Photographs work best.
Skinnyisms
One morning we were refighting some of the fires we’d been to. As usual, refought fires are quickly extinguished right at the table without anyone breaking a sweat, getting wet, dirty, or overly tired. It happens every time the stories are retold – especially when enhancing, stretching, or trying to remember the facts. I talked about one fire where the white coat at a large deuce-and-a-half wood frame said at the department critique afterwards that, “It was a small fire in the attic that damn near blossomed before the roof got opened.” One geezer said that chief sounded like Skinny. It was.
Ten years ago, I wrote about Skinny and his unique methods of communication: (https://www.fireapparatusmagazine.com/fire-apparatus/cantankerous-wisdom-skinnyisms-and-quahoggers/). A couple days later I found two photographs from the fire and showed them to the Squad holding court at morning coffee. When one geezer asked when the fire was, I said, I thought it was in the mid to late 70s. Another said, “Hell, that was 50 years ago. You can’t remember what you had for supper two nights ago.”
The Fire
You can tell a lot from sequential photographs, however, knowing the “rest of the story” helps prove what you’ve tried to remember. The weekday morning call came in as a structure fire. It was during the era when the department was flush with staff.
Skinny got there first, broke down the front door, ran upstairs, peeked in the attic, slammed the door shut, and bailed out. The best I can recall is that his radio size-up wasn’t much more than, “It’s an attic fire; open the roof!”
The first engine and the quint, both with full crews, pulled in together when Skinny was coming outside. The engine was already laying in per standard operating procedure (SOP). He told them to stretch an inch-and-a-half to the attic but not to open the attic door until it’s vented. Simultaneously, the quint raised the aerial. We brought up a roof ladder, tools, and K-12 saw and started cutting. The rest of the crew started pulling ground ladders.
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