Faded Glory: On Being an Ex-Firefighter, Part 3

Faded Glory: On Being an Ex-Firefighter, Part 1

Faded Glory: On Being an Ex-Firefighter, Part 2

Faded Glory: On Being an Ex-Firefighter, Part 3

I connected with the local Fire Corps. They support the fire department with rehabilitation, fundraising, and behind-the-scenes assistance that does not require exposure to smoke or fire. Firefighters at structure fires or incidents that last more than a few hours require fresh water and food and places to rest, protected from temperature extremes. The Fire Corps meets these needs.

I still cannot participate regularly, but special events can be scheduled ahead of time. I can fit my calendar to some of the opportunities to serve. My first experience with helping the Fire Corps occurred this past week, and it slammed home the startling realization that I am a has-been, a no-name, an ex-firefighter, experiencing faded glory.

I knew no one in the Fire Corps, and they knew little about me. I served food and water to firefighters attending a three-day training conference. They saw me only as a helper, a nameless service-worker. No one asked my advice...no one checked with me first...no one asked me to help them drag a hose or operate a pumper.

It was a bit disconcerting.

I had been a firefighter since 1982. I served with three different fire departments until I resigned in 2007. That's 25 years of experience as a firefighter! In that time I worked as a rookie, a firefighter, a lieutenant, a captain, a training officer, a president (of the volunteer's association), and even as a chief. I experienced thousands of hours of training and thousands of hours of emergency incident response.

I drove brush rigs, pumpers, rescue rigs, tenders, aerial trucks, hazmat trucks, ambulances, and water rescue craft.

I entered burning buildings, poisonous environments, burning forests, and burning rangeland.

In each of the three departments, firefighters relied upon me as a leader, a trainer, a mentor. I helped decide standards and policy. I represented our department at state and regional conferences.

I knew how to tie a bowline knot, for crying out loud!

I once had been a volunteer firefighter. Now, I was a water boy.

I didn't blame the firefighters. I purposely didn't broadcast my credentials. I've never admired people who promote themselves, especially when in the place of being the newcomer or stranger. I believe strongly that we must earn the right to be respected or heard. A new member of any organization should not boast of, nor even describe at length, their previous status or experience. It's far better to let your abilities gradually become apparent, like the subtle fragrance of perfume worn by a confident woman. (Not sure that's an appropriate analogy, given the theme of this treatise, but I'm thinking of my wife right now, and it's hard to ignore her influence upon me!)

Still, I was surprised by my inner feeling of dismay and disappointment. I felt disconnected, like a man looking from the outside into a house he once called home, before it had been sold to strangers.

I carried chests of ice. I packed cases of water and Gatorade. I lifted and pushed and pulled. Sometimes I sat. For three days I was small. I was a helper...I was a supporter. I was surrounded by firefighters and firefighting gear...and I was not a firefighter.

So now, the week is over. I actually did have a chance late on the final day to sit with a few of the firefighters and rehearse some of my past glory. I was invited into the "inner sanctum", the career firefighter's day room, and I ate some crackers and sausage with them. They seemed surprised, and impressed, with my tale. I had thought myself to be a modest, quietly humble person, but I discovered that I was thirsty for recognition, hungry for stature, longing for camaraderie.

I miss being a volunteer firefighter.

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Comments

  1. I appreciated your sharing your story and feelings, Milt. I can relate to your story as I am running for office. Many times I have met citizens that were at one point or another involved in high level Government or other high profile service. A couple in our congregation I recently got to know better turned out to be a former high level ranking Chaplain in the Military and an ex-firefighter Captain from Las Cruses, CA...30+ years experience in both of them. I thought, wow, who would have guessed! They are old and I failed to look beyond their limited ability to serve and think about what it was they did in life. I guess I am not alone in that attitude; we don't stop to think of all the life experiences around us or to take a moment and ask where and what a person did for a living. I am realizing more and more that the answers to many of our questions reside in these folks we don't really "see" around us. Your story is further conformation to learn more about those around us that we walk through life with (I certainly had no idea that your experience was so extensive). It is important that we are willing to share with those around us our life experiences, to join in camaraderie with those we share interests with. Who knows, we may share answers to life questions or share information that may save someone's life physically or spiritually.Thank you for sharing! ~Marc

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  2. Thank you, Marc! Your comments are very encouraging to me. It's hard when writing, to have a good idea of how it sounds to others, or if my words are anywhere adequate to explain what I'm feeling.

    You make a good point: be willing to share with those around us our life experiences. I guess this blog is one of my attempts to try to do that. I find it very difficult to converse about things that are close to me...I think, because I doubt that others would be interested, or they may take it as offensive or boorish. If I write it in a blog, readers can take it or leave it...it's not quite so direct a way of communicating, but because it is less threatening, to me and to the reader, I can actually speak more openly.

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  3. First, thanks for letting me know about this 3-part "conversation with yourself." Your very last sentence, so succinctly put, was the perfect ending. What you said made me smile with recognition, made me chuckle with understanding, made *your* whole story meaningful. Like Marc of the first Comment, I too could relate--good heavens, not to the firefighting but--to the feeling of identity loss when an essential part of who you have been for years seems to be...gone. Retirement brings that same "fish out of water" feeling too, I've only recently discovered. Great meanderings, my former museum buddy.
    Judith in Kennewick

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