A week ago I wrote here that Mitch Fiandt was fighting cancer, and now he's gone.

Just like that.

 

That's Mitch on the left, still in his dispatch uniform pants. Yeah, that's me on the right. We were so young.

 

 

I've had so many friends fight and beat cancer, at least for awhile, that it never occurred to me he wouldn't. But Mitch died just short of fifty years as a volunteer firefighter, having started at Orange Township Fire before he was even eighteen, back in the days when you could do that kind of thing. Cancer takes a lot of firefighters, especially the ones were around in the days when breathing protection was a mild suggestion. He told me once he breathed in some particularly bad stuff off the hot side of a burning house, back before he moved to Albion and joined our Department.

That old lung damage was one reason why he usually drove the fire trucks and ran the pump, rather than going inside--not that I didn't see him go in, more than once. And yet, when we had our annual lung capacity test, he always passed and usually ran circles around the rest of us.

There's not much I can say that isn't in his obituary, here:

https://www.harperfuneralhomes.com/obituary/Mitch-Fiandt?fbclid

 

If memory serves, in addition to being the Albion Fire Department Chief Engineer--a kind of honorary title acknowledging the fact that if we needed an apparatus operator, he was there--he also served as Secretary and Treasurer on the AFD.

He was also my boss for several years in Noble County Communications, or the 911 Center, or Dispatch, or whatever people will call it next year. He was there for 35 years, which did not bode well for his sanity, and was 911 Director from 1999 until he retired in 2015.

Here Mitch and John Urso, also a combo firefighter/dispatch, present me my 25 year dispatcher award, along with a certificate for a free psychotherapy session.

Mitch and I both served at various times on the Albion Town Council and the Albion Plan Commission, and he was in about a hundred other things as well, being the type who was always helping out. Even with my writing gig, he stayed busier than me. He was the first to tell me I should write a book about dispatching, which I will, as soon as the statue of limitations runs out.


The last time I saw him was at my grandmother's funeral: He had a part time gig with Harper's Funeral Home here in Albion. I don't believe he ever had a job or hobby that wasn't, in one way or another, about helping people.

And if that it's the best thing you can say about a person, I don't know what is.


 

 


 


 The theme for this year's Fire Prevention Weeks is "Smoke alarms: Make them work for you". Which sound like a great idea, but then you have to pay them, and send W-2 forms, and it would mess up your taxes ...

In any case, here's the link to the National Fire Prevention Association's info on the subject:

https://www.nfpa.org/events/fire-prevention-week

  During my four decades in the emergency services, I never heard anyone complain that their smoke detectors worked properly. Well, okay, once—but that guy was an arsonist.
Fire Prevention Week this year is October 6-12, mostly because nothing else goes on in mid-October. No, actually it was because the Great Chicago Fire happened on October 9, 1871. That fire destroyed more than 17,400 structures and killed at least 250 people, and might have been prevented if Mrs. O’Leary had installed a smoke detector in her barn. Have you ever seen a cow remove a smoke detector battery? Me neither.
Nobody really knows what started the Great Chicago Fire, so the dairy industry has a real beef with blaming the cow, which legend says knocked over a lamp. Does the lamp industry ever get the blame? Noooo....
 
Cow or lamp? Trick question: It's a training session, so firefighters.

 
At about the same time the Peshtigo Fire burned across Wisconsin, killing 1,152 people and burning 16 entire towns. Several fires burned across Michigan and Wisconsin at the time, causing some to speculate that a meteor shower might have caused the conflagration. There may have been shooting stars elsewhere, but Chicago got all the press.
This year’s Fire Prevention Week theme is "Smoke alarms: Make them work for you!" It's not like they're going to be busy elsewhere.
Just as you should change your smoke detector batteries every fall and spring, you should replace your smoke alarm every ten years. Doing the same to your carbon monoxide detector is a great idea, so it can make a sound to warn about the gas that never makes a sound.
This is great advice, and as I hadn’t given much thought to the age of my own smoke detectors, I took it. The one in the basement stairway said: “Manufactured 1888 by the Tesla Fire Alarm Co.”
Not a good sign.
The one in the kitchen hallway said simply: “Smoke alarm. Patent pending.”
Oh boy.
So check them. Do it right now, so they're working for you. I know it doesn’t have quite the pizzazz of the 1942 Fire Prevention Week theme: “Every Fire Helps Hitler”.
 
But hey … you can’t blame the Nazis for everything.



 

 

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Remember: Books are flammable, so keep them protected. Especially my books.

 I won't have time to do my regular blog again this weekend, but fear not! Instead I'm linking you to a fun, photo filled monthly newsletter.

Well, there are photos, anyway.

But the thing that may interest you the most is that, in the newsletter, I included the book blurb for Haunted Noble County, Indiana. The publisher has officially given the book that name, by the way. They haven't approved the blurb yet, but it isn't likely to be much different from what you'll see here:

https://mailchi.mp/11840c2e73a9/vacation-time-to-not-get-away

I also talk a little about our vacation, which was generally uneventful, and one of the larger fires in the history of Noble County (Indiana), which was generally very eventful. Sign up for the newsletter! It only goes out once a month unless there's Big News, and it's free. Also, no cost.

If the smoke rises high enough to form a mushroom cloud visible 40 miles away, it's a big fire.



We and our books can be found ... everywhere:


Remember: Not reading books is--spooky.

If it seems like I'm just copying and pasting last year's blog about the AFD fish fry, it's because a book deadline has me in its clutches, and I am. The info is updated, though.

 

If you should be near Albion during the Chain O’ Lakes Festival, don’t forget to drop in on the fish and tenderloin fry at the fire station Wednesday, June 5th. This has been an annual tradition for many decades, with proceeds going to equipment and training for the Albion Fire Department. (Indiana, for those of you near other Albions.)

It’s from 4:30-7:00 p.m., with a price of $14 for adults and $10 for children 8 and under, and it’s darned good food for a good cause. I should know, having eaten it almost every year for ... a long time. The AFD is at 210 Fire Station Drive, on the east end of town.  (It's traditional, when a town has a Fire Station Drive, to build the fire station there.)
Donations to the department get us all sorts of stuff, much of which helps keep us alive.    

 

 


Meanwhile, don't forget to pick up a copy of Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights, the Albion Fire Department's history book, which goes for just $9.95. Come on, you know you want to donate that extra nickle. It took me 25 years to write!

Okay, so I wasn't writing the entire 25 years.

 


 

 

 

Remember: Every time you buy a history book, a dusty old professor gets his wings.

 So, I'm retiring. Not from my full time job of dispatching to become a Gentleman Author, as I wanted. (It's like a Gentleman Farmer, a rich person who just farms as a hobby. No real farmer is a Gentleman Farmer, especially considering their ungentlemanly language while going through bills.)

At my full time job we got an email pointing out, now that one of the Sheriff Department detectives has retired, I have the most seniority of anyone there or in dispatch. By six years. Maybe in the entire Noble County Government, although I'm not motivated to find out.

Nor will I retire from writing, until they pry my fingers from the keyboard. Maybe not even then, if I can manage text to speech. No, I'm retiring from what I've done longest (other than biological functions) in my adult life: firefighting.

 That's Phil Jacob standing beside me, holding his pin for being a firefighter for 55 (!) years. I remain unconvinced Phil will ever retire. In fact, I should put off working on my Haunted Noble County book, because fifty years from now he'll be haunting the Albion firehouse. When I look at him (or Tom Lock, who joined up six months before I did), I realize I'd never have the most seniority on the Albion Fire Department.

I don't know how they do it. I beat my body down too badly. After working a fire, I'd be in so much pain I couldn't function for days. My back pain goes all the way back to back to back fires way back in the 80s, where I wore a steel air tank for longer than even a young pup should. It got progressively worse, and I slowly realized over the last few years that I was threatening to become another victim to treat at an emergency scene, instead of contributing.

The tanks are a lot lighter now, but I'm a lot heavier. And I have less hair.

 

In the last year I developed shoulder problems. Recently my knees started acting up, in a temper tantrum kind of way. (And they make strange noises.) I've got arthritis in my big toe, for crying out loud. Ever since Covid, it's been all I can do to get through a day without falling asleep on the couch. Okay, maybe six decades of living has more to do with that than Covid.

I'm not complaining so much as explaining. I loved firefighting. The guys and gals who volunteer at the AFD, and our neighboring departments, are my brothers and sisters--they're family. But I couldn't even go to the station much, especially between those murderous 12-hour night shifts in dispatch that wouldn't happen if I was a gentleman author.


But I put it off. I didn't want to admit I can't do something I used to be able to do. When I finally told my wife I was pulling the plug, she wasn't a bit surprised. Most likely no one was.

So I wrote the membership a letter, and a few weeks later, when we walked into the annual AFD Appreciation Dinner, I saw my name tag and a helmet with my number on it. It was real. I had by then reached the depression stage of grief. I'll let you know when the acceptance stage arrives.

Here's Brian Tigner, a hard worker for the AFD, giving me my stuff and telling me they'd just as soon I left through the back door. Kidding! The reconditioned barn where we had dinner was awesome.

Wow, this turned out to be more of a downer than I'd planned. It's not all bad: I'll stay on as an honorary member, doing the Facebook page, taking pictures, doing public information stuff, and so on. I'm also halfway done with that new AFD book, which keeps getting put on the back burner for one reason after another. But I'm thinking of going to this year's Fish Fry as a diner instead of a server ... that concrete floor is hell on my back.

I look good in red flannel. I do, TOO.

 

To this day, I don't know how I worked up the courage to walk into that firehouse door on my eighteenth birthday. Me, the shy, antisocial introvert with no interest in being on a team--except this one. Every time I headed up to the station, I stepped outside my comfort zone. If I hadn't I'd have missed most of the events of my life, and I wonder then if I would have ever had anything to write about.

And for every bad thing I experienced, there were a dozen great things.

Forty-three years. I'll carry them forever ... in a good way.



 

If you send a book to every retired person you know, they might not complain that you never come to see them.



Many thanks to Mike Miller of NIPSCO, who gave a presentation on flammable gasses at the Albion Fire Department recently. Miller, also an experienced firefighter, used props and demonstrations to show the properties and hazards of propane and natural gas.

You can watch a few short videos of it here:

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/S2N8-om-CLY

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/ozm7ILCy4Jc

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dyju6TCjjQU

 

Boy, I sure hope those links work.

 

 



 Mike had a full career as a firefighter before going to work with NIPSCO. I think it's safe to say if you want someone around in a gas emergency, he'd be the one.

 


 

Remember, reading cuts down on dangerous gasses. Of course, so does avoiding beans.

 


            It goes without saying that the best way to maintain safety in a kitchen is to keep me out.

            But I said it anyway, and as it happens, the theme of this year’s Fire Prevention Week is "Cooking Safety Starts With YOU". Even a group of Congressmen couldn’t argue over whether that’s a good idea. Could they?
 
            “My esteemed colleague doesn’t seem to understand that if all fires were prevented, it would mean unemployment for untold numbers of construction crews and emergency room workers!”
 
            Yeah, I guess they could.
 
            The National Fire Protection Association decides themes for this important week, and they chose wisely. If only they chose wisely in naming their mascot, a huge and overly caffeinated-looking dog named Sparky.
 
            We don’t want sparks. Sparks are bad, except when lighting campfires, or igniting homemade cannons to flatten aliens. (It worked for James T. Kirk.)
 
 
Shouldn’t the NFPA’s mascot be named Soggy? Or is that for nightmare scenarios involving puppy training?
 
            In our house the kitchen is safe as long as I don't cook; when I do, food poisoning takes the number one danger spot. Instead, my wife cooks while I do the dishes, which seems fair. No one has ever started a fire while doing dishes, although I did electrocute myself that way, once. Okay, twice.
 
            Long story.
 
            Kitchen fires are common because that’s where the fire is. Whether you use electric or gas, stuff gets hot, and hot is dangerous. When fires start people panic, doing such things as pouring water on grease fires—because it’s the kitchen, and there’s water right there, after all.
 
            Here are other things people do wrong, when it comes to cooking:
 
            They leave.
 
            Leaving is bad. Unattended fires rarely have anyone attending them. Most stove fires I responded to as a firefighter were unattended, and even if the flames don’t spread beyond the pan, let me assure you: The smell is horrible.
 
            They fall asleep.
 
            Dude, if you’re that tired, sleep now—have breakfast later.
 
Or better yet, stop out at the Albion Fire Station this coming Saturday and have someone else cook your breakfast.

 
 
            They drink.
 
            Cooking sherry is for cooking. If you’re consuming alcoholic beverages, you should do pretty much nothing else, except maybe watch football or take a nap. Or take a nap while watching football—set an alarm for the halftime show.
 
            They put flammable stuff on the stove.
 
            I have a big plastic bowl with a very odd design on the bottom. Kind of dents, in a circular pattern. In fact, it’s the exact same pattern you’ll find on the top of my gas stove if, say, you turned off the flames but didn’t wait for the stove to cool down before you set a big plastic bowl on it.
 
            On any given day, somebody’s stove will have on it an oven mitt, wooden spoon, cardboard food box, or towel. Last year, 172,100 structure fires started with cooking. Total fire damage in the USA was 15.9 billion dollars. And you know what the worst part of a kitchen fire is? When it’s over …
 
            You’ll still be hungry.
 
            Two thirds of cooking fires start when food itself ignites, which kinda makes sense, and see above about how horrible it smells. Scorched beans and corn especially stink, for some reason. More than half of the injuries come when people try to fight the fires.
 
 

 
            Can you fight kitchen fires? Sure, after you call 911 (they’ll wisely tell you to leave), but you’re taking your chances. If you happen to be right there when something in a pan catches, just turn off the heat and drop a lid on it, suffocating the fire.
 
            But a lot of people don’t do that. In a panic, they’ll splash water on the fire, which will cause grease and oil to splatter and spread the fire further. Don’t do that.
 
            Better idea: Have a fire extinguisher and know how to use it. In my novel Radio Red, a panicked character tries to read the directions on an extinguisher after a fire breaks out. That’s a poor time to take a class, people. (And why haven’t you read that book?)
 
            Read the directions and take a class, so if the fire’s small you can stand with your back to an exit, discharge the extinguisher at the base of the fire, then get the heck outside, all after you dialed 911. Do I sound too cautious? Well, the National Safety Council says 3,800 American civilians died in fires last year, with 14,700 more injured. Do I still sound too cautious?
 
            That’s just a quick overview of the dangers, and what you can do about them. Oh, and one more thing: Thanksgiving is the number one day for home cooking fires, so have your relatives bring food.
 
            Then you can stay out of the kitchen, and enjoy your nap during the football game.
 
 
 
 
 
Remember, every time you prevent a fire, a book is safe from burning.

 One of the reasons I'm struggling a bit with my new writing project is that I usually start with a plot, then find characters to fit into the story. This has drawbacks, the biggest being that as I create my characters, they sometimes become so real to me that they start saying things I don't want to hear:

"Yeah, I know you plan for this to happen, then that to happen--but I just wouldn't do those things."

You're just a character, do what I tell you.

"Fine. That'll be my voice in the back of your mind--and you ain't heard nagging yet."

 

Don't even get me started on Beth Hamlin.

 

 

Stupid characters. But they're usually right, and I've been known to make changes accordingly. Just the same, I start out with a plot, and the major plot points usually stay the same, as does the ending.

This time out I started with great characters: a group of firefighters on a fictional department somewhere in the Midwest. I had a great setting, background on all of the above, and even some scenes already playing in my mind.

But no plot.

I did have a general arc going on in the background, but mostly the story was about the day to day lives of my characters, and the challenges they faced on the job. It was episodic, like a series of short stories put together, or a TV show about firefighters, of which there are many. My favorite remains "Emergency!", which is indeed put together that way. Season long plot arcs would have been laughed at, back then.

 

Can I find new story ideas from personal experience? Yes. Yes, I can.

 

 

But I want a plot. I'm a plot guy.

And here's the thing: I have identified a plot idea, but it's deadly serious, tragic, and very "ripped from the headlines". If you know my writing, you know I generally keep to light escapism, and my characters are all set to have a lot of fun in their life and death careers.

I'm not asking for a solution, mind you (although if you want to offer one, hey!) I'm only complaining because talking out loud helps me resolve these dilemmas. It seems to be working: Even as I write this I realize the Big Bad event I've contemplated would set things up for future books in a series, if that should happen.

And those future plot ideas I have come up with; all I need is an opening.

 

 

(Remember: Every time you buy a book, a writer's career could blow up. Not literally. Well, maybe in my case.)

 

 

http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

 

 

 On Saturday evening the Albion Fire Department held our annual dinner to recognize significant others, supporters and officials, and members who reached service year milestones. (Or, as I put it when I hit 40 years, survived.)

 It was held in the Augusta Hills Event Center, which used to be surrounded by a golf course. Before that it was the town of Augusta, Noble County Seat (population: not many, but they had a courthouse and a jail.)

I'm only going to post a few photos to keep my blog from breaking, but you can see the whole post on the AFD/Fire Auxiliary Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/albionfd. Here's the whole list of recognized firefighters:
 
One year- Ryan Jones and Rob Davis (They got an AFD coat. I mean they each did, not one to share.)
Five years- Connor Marks and Bob Amber (But this isn't Chief Amber's first smoke-eater job.)
Twenty years- John Urso
Twenty Five years- Michael Davis
Thirty years - Bryan Peterson
Thirty Five years- Gregg Gorsich
Forty years- Kevin Libben
 
The committee, headed by Brian Tigner, did a great job setting things up, and on a related note I'm now a big fan of brisket.
 
(I didn't take these photos, by the way--I believe the Chief's wife did. I was busy stuffing myself full of brownies at the time.)
 
 
In his 40 years Kevin Libben has served in every major position on the AFD, including mucking the horse stalls as a rookie. If you don't think that's major, see what happens if you don't muck the stalls. Beside him is present Chief Bob Amber, who is, comparatively speaking, a greenhorn.
 
 
Gregg Gorsuch was not able to make it, so I won't make fun of him. A past Chief, he's worked as both a volunteer firefighter and a farmer, so he's clearly a glutton for punishment.
 
 

 
After 30 years, Bryan Peterson was forced to retire from the AFD due to a rare disease that causes uncontrolled beard growth. Bryan was rewarded with his helmet shield and turnout coat name tag, but he has to turn the latter back in if we ever get another firefighter named B. Peterson.
 
Mike Davis has completed 25 years as a firefighter, a job his father also held. I believe I trained Mike when he started, but he turned out okay, anyway.
 
 
John Urso is another who attained captain, Assistant Chief, and Chief status, not all at once. He's been on the AFD for 20 years, so long that some people can remember his hair color.
 
 
I'll risk crashing my blog with one more photo, of the most important group of all: the spouses of AFD firefighters. They are, from left to right: female. But we've had several women firefighters, so sooner or later there'll be an out of place looking man standing in the group.
 
Remember, you can go to the AFD Facebook page for a few more photos. Thanks to everyone who helped and attended!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
You can find our books, including the AFD history story, Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights, here:
 

 

As we close out the 100th anniversary of Nation Fire Prevention Week, I thought I’d take a quick look at the history of firefighting.

You might want to brace yourself, we’ll be moving fast.

 


 

Fire was discovered by Adam, who was kicked out of the Garden of Edan because of an apple—making it the first core-pral punishment. It gets darned cold in the real world, but Adam could only find one stick, so he made a fire by rubbing it against a Cain. This led to emotional problems with Cain later on; he tried to cope, but wasn’t Abel.

Ancient Egyptians experienced fire problems when a column of fire led the Jews out of bondage. The Jews were followed by the Pharaoh and his army, who were sore about being plagued. Pharaoh then took his army to the Red Sea, figuring it would water down the flame.

The soldiers drowned, much to the sorrow of their mummies. The Pharaoh himself was unusually tall, and waded back to shore: To this day, when someone measures the intensity of fire, they speak of degrees in Pharaoh Height.

The Roman Empire invented the first fire extinguisher, which looked like a big syringe. Their first firefighters were slaves, and when the syringe wasn’t effective they were just thrown on the flames until the fire was smothered. Everyone was satisfied with this arrangement. Except the slaves.

Benjamin Franklin helped found the earliest organized fire force in the New World. He also flew kites in thunderstorms, thumbed his nose at the most powerful empire in the world, and had indiscriminate sex with dozens of women. And so, to this day, firefighters are assumed to be crazy.

(It turns out Franklin was literally a founding father.)

 

The AFD hose reel was much more effective when it had hose on it.

 

Fast forward (a lot) to Albion in 1887, when a major fire burned down an entire block, townspeople were disturbed to learn they couldn’t find a decent cup of coffee: All the restaurants had cooked. After a week without java the townspeople voted to fund either a fire department, or a coffee house. If the vote had gone the other way, we’d be forming coffee cup brigades.

The Albion Fire Department consisted of a chief, an assistant chief, three foremen, a designated Coffee Rescue Team (they just couldn’t get over the infamous “Week Without a Cup”)—and the entire population. It took a dozen people to pump the water by hand, and another dozen to make the coffee. In an emergency the coffee would be pumped onto the fire, if they felt they had the grounds.

When volunteers ran (literally) to their first call they found they had no hose, which watered down their effectiveness. Luckily, it was only the courthouse burning, not the coffee house. Just the same, they added a hose cart to go with the pumper. Today’s fire trucks carry pumps and hose together, along with modern marvels such as instant coffee.

The third original AFD apparatus, a hook & ladder, carried hooks .., and ladders. The hooks could be used to pull down flaming roofs, walls, and Pharaohs. The ladders were used to rescue sacks of coffee. (No Pharaoh was harmed in the writing of this article.)

The AFD became motorized in 1929, and still owns that very first truck. We’re that cheap.

 

It still pumps! You know ... just in case.

 

On spotting a fire citizens would say something descriptive, like “fire!” and, being firefighters, the firefighters faithfully fought the fire’s fury. Rural homes were on their own, being out of shouting range. But firefighters hate to see fire without putting water on it; families have been torn apart at cookouts, after someone starts the grill, and a firefighter relative throws all the beer on it. So the AFD bought a water tanker, so they could haul their own supply. Of water, not beer.

Other changes came quickly. With four wheel drive trucks, firefighters didn’t have to wait for a wildland fire to come to them, especially since it sometimes didn’t want to. Besides, while they were waiting some other moron with a match … ahem … another wildland fire might break out.

Air packs were developed so firefighters can go into toxic atmospheres and keep their lungs healthy, so they didn’t have to give up smoking.

And then: I was born.

 

This is the most flattering fireground photo of me I could find.

 

This is not a date ordinarily observed at our firehouse. No, I don’t know why.

Back then we didn’t wear our protective clothing much. In fact, when I responded to my first house fire I’d been issued: boots. Just boots.

Well, I wore jeans and a t-shirt, let’s not get silly.

            Today we’re covered head to toe in materials developed for really dangerous professions, like astronauts and talk show hosts. The air tanks are so light, we sometimes forget to take them off. Imagine the strange looks we get in the grocery store checkout lane.

Who knows what’s in store for the future? Maybe we’ll have cameras that can see through smoke, lightweight air tanks, computers, and portable radios we can just clip on our belts. Oh, wait … we have those.

But we’ll keep the old ’29 engine. Just in case.

 

Find our books at:

http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

And check out the Albion Fire Department's history in Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights: A Century Or So With the Albion Fire Department.

 

 

Pretty much everyone who reads my blog or other social media realizes by now that I’m a humorist. Some of you might even think I’m funny. I poke fun at serious things all the time, and I even write humor pieces about deadly serious stuff, such as Fire Prevention Week.

 

But that doesn’t mean it’s not a serious subject.

This year the National Fire Protection Association picked: “Fire Won’t Wait. Plan Your Escape” as the theme for the week, which runs from October 9 to 15. In my experience, when a fire starts it doesn’t want to just be there, waiting for a food delivery or an Uber ride. It likes to spread—and it spreads fast.

Thanks to modern building materials, once a building catches fire the flames spread way more quickly than they once did, and the fires burn hotter. The third best way to combat that is to be in a building that has a fire sprinkler system, an idea that has no interest to politicians or the construction industry. The second best way is to have operating smoke and carbon monoxide detectors, along with a plan for what to do if a fire breaks out.

(The first way, of course, is to use caution and prevent a fire from breaking out in the first place.)

 


 

 

Feel safe in your home? 74% of all fire deaths in the United States happen in those homes. People are actually more likely to die in a home fire today than they were in 1980, the year I started in the fire service. So the message is simple: Be ready to get out. The NFPA has some tips on getting out alive:

  • Make sure your home escape plan meets the needs of all your family members, including those with sensory or physical disabilities.
  • Smoke alarms should be installed inside every sleeping room, outside each separate sleeping area, and on every level of your home. Smoke alarms should be interconnected so when one sounds, they all sound.
  • Know at least two ways out of every room, if possible. Make sure all doors and windows open easily.
  • Have an outside meeting place a safe distance from your home where everyone should meet.
  • Practice your home fire drill at least twice a year with everyone in the household, including guests. Practice at least once during the day and at night.

Fire Prevention Week is the longest running public health observance, marking its hundredth anniversary this year. Everybody involved wishes it wasn’t necessary.

 

 


 Find our books at:

 

 

http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

And check out the Albion Fire Department's history in Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights: A Century Or So With the Albion Fire Department.

 

 


I wish I'd written this but, sadly, I don't know the author. What I do know is that the author must be an emergency responder. (I first found it in 2006, so if some parts seem a little outdated, that's why.)



I wish you could know what it is like to search a burning bedroom for
trapped children at 3 AM, flames rolling above your head, your palms and
knees burning as you crawl, the floor sagging under your weight as the
kitchen below you burns.

I wish you could comprehend a wife's horror at 6 in the morning as I check her husband of 40 years for a pulse and find none. I start CPR anyway, hoping to bring him back, knowing intuitively it is too late. But wanting his wife and family to know everything possible was done to try to save his life.

I wish you knew the unique smell of burning insulation, the taste of
soot-filled mucus, the feeling of intense heat through your turnout
gear, the sound of flames crackling, the eeriness of being able to see
absolutely nothing in dense smoke-sensations that I've become too
familiar with.

I wish you could read my mind as I respond to a building fire "Is
this a false alarm or a working fire? How is the building constructed? What
hazards await me? Is anyone trapped?" Or to call, "What is wrong with the
patient? Is it minor or life-threatening? Is the caller really in distress or
is he waiting for us with a 2x4 or a gun?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 I wish you could be in the emergency room as a doctor pronounces dead
The beautiful five-year old girl that I have been trying to save during the past 25 minutes. Who will never go on her first date or say the words, "I love you Mommy" again.

I wish you could know the frustration I feel in the cab of the
engine, squad, or my personal vehicle, the driver with his foot pressing down
hard on the pedal, my arm tugging again and again at the air horn chain, as
you fail to yield the right-of-way at an intersection or in traffic. When you
need us however, your first comment upon our arrival will be, "It took
you forever to get here!"

I wish you could know my thoughts as I help extricate a girl of
teenage years from the remains of her automobile. "What if this was my
daughter, sister, my girlfriend or a friend? What were her parents
reaction going to be when they opened the door to find a police officer with hat in hand?"

I wish you could know how it feels to walk in the back door and greet
my parents and family, not having the heart to tell them that I nearly
did not come back from the last call.

I wish you could know how it feels dispatching officers, firefighters
and EMT's out and when we call for them our heart drops because no
one answers back, or to here a bone chilling 911 call of a child or wife
needing assistance.

I wish you could feel the hurt as people verbally, and sometimes
physically, abuse us or belittle what I do, or as they express their
attitudes of "It will never happen to me."

I wish you could realize the physical, emotional and mental drain or
missed meals, lost sleep and forgone social activities, in addition to
all the tragedy my eyes have seen.

 

 

I wish you could know the brotherhood and self-satisfaction of
helping save a life or preserving someone's property, or being able to be there
in time of crisis, or creating order from total chaos.

I wish you could understand what it feels like to have a little boy
tugging at your arm and asking, "Is Mommy okay?" Not even being able to
look in his eyes without tears from your own and not knowing what to say. Or
to have to hold back a long time friend who watches his buddy having CPR
done on him as they take him away in the Medic Unit. You know all along he did not have his seat belt on. A sensation that I have become too familiar with.

Unless you have lived with this kind of life, you will never truly
understand or appreciate who I am, we are, or what our job really means
to us...I wish you could though.
 

Appreciate and support the local EMS workers, 911 dispatchers, firefighters, and law enforcement officers in your area.

One day that might save your property or your life. When you see them coming with lights flashing, move out of the way quickly, then pray for them.
 

 


 

 

 


http://markrhunter.com/

https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

 

Dennis Smith passed away a couple of weeks ago, but I got sidetracked by weather stuff in writing about it.

 

As I've said before, the term "hero" gets thrown around way too much these days, and often at people who haven't earned the title. There are many people I admire who aren't heroes. Those who truly are heroes will insist they are not.

Dennis Smith was a hero.

He didn't look like a hero. Heroes rarely do.

He was an author of sixteen books and otherwise led a successful life, but what made him a hero is the eighteen years he spent as a firefighter for the City of New York. He took the oath in 1963, and a few years later transferred to Engine Company 82: The busiest single fire company in New York and, it's believed, the busiest one in the world at the time.

He didn't retire for another ten years after his first book, Report From Engine Co. 82, became a best seller. In 1976 he founded Firehouse Magazine, which became the most popular periodical for firefighters in the world, and he was a civic leader in many other areas. He was an advocate for firefighters, and even produced a series of training videos.


 

Then, on September 11, 2001--almost twenty years after he retired--Dennis Smith showed up at Ground Zero to assist his brothers and sisters. He spent 57 days helping with rescue and recovery efforts, later chronicled in Report From Ground Zero.

He didn't have to. But see, that's what a hero is: Someone who does something for others, despite risks to their own selves, when they don't have to.

I became interested in firefighting in my late teens, and there were few books on the subject at our local library. One was Report From Engine Co. 82. I read it over and over, of course, then I went searching for his other books.

He had a spare, matter of fact style of writing, and when he told stories about his work in the FDNY he didn't brag: He just told what happened, straight out. The risks they take, the injuries they received, are shocking to the reader, but just another day for Dennis and his coworkers.

Dennis Smith influenced me as both a writer and a firefighter, and I'm forever grateful to have that influence in my life. Rest In Peace, Firefighter Smith. If anyone earned it, you did.


From Wikipedia:

Dennis Smith has written sixteen books in his career, among them:

  • Report from Engine Co. 82
  • Final Fire
  • Glitter & Ash
  • Steely Blue
  • History of Firefighting in America
  • The Aran Islands – A Personal Journey
  • Firehouse (accompanying photographs by Jill Freedman)
  • Dennis Smith's Fire Safety Book
  • Firefighters – Their Lives in Their Own Words
  • A Song for Mary
  • Report from Ground Zero
  • San Francisco Is Burning – The Untold Story of the 1906 Earthquake and Fires
  • A Decade of Hope – Stories of Grief and Endurance from 9/11 Families and Friends
  • Of Love and Courage

For children:

  • The Little Fire Engine That Saved The City
  • Brassy the Fire Engine


 

 Just a few photos and video of a house fire we fought late on Saturday, November 20th. (You may have already seen some of these on Facebook.) Albion and Churubusco fire units were initially dispatched, and fire was through the roof within minutes of the first report. Several other departments were brought in for water and manpower--the home was about five miles from the nearest hydrant. No one was injured; the house was under renovation and unoccupied.


 

As the safety officer a large part of my job is to just watch, which allows me to take photos every now and then of what I'm watching, anyway.

 

 

The roof and attic were built with lightweight wood construction and metal gusset plates, which are notorious for failing early in a fire. That allowed the fire to quickly spread through the whole attic area, and made operating inside dangerous.

 

 

I'm not sure how many times I went around the building; in most cases the safety officer, unlike many other fireground incident command positions, has to stay mobile. But hey, it kept me warm.
 


 On cold nights we often run into the problem of (comparatively) warm water from our hose lines mixing with the smoke from still-hidden fire, making it hard to tell if we're looking at smoke or steam. That's when thermal imaging technology comes in handy, to find those embers in hidden spaces and insulation.

 Here are a few quick videos I took, too:

https://youtu.be/Vni4kYuP5JU  

https://youtu.be/mXEr7cK8OVE

https://youtu.be/_-0grLdxFq0   

 

 

http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

 When I was a teen, I had a friend who sometimes got me into ... questionable situations. Case in point: One day he, I, and another friend were walking down the railroad tracks ...

And there you go. Questionable situations.

He was a bit ... reckless. He also wasn't too good at impulse control, which I suppose is the same thing.

(He also once coaxed me onto the tracks to find a good position for viewing Halley's Comet. We couldn't see it. I don't know what his thing was, with railroad tracks.)

Anyway, we were walking down the tracks, late at night, carrying packs of firecrackers and bottle rockets.

Once, when that other friend and I were playing chess, my questionable situation friend got bored and threw a firecracker into the middle of the board. We never did find all the pieces.

There are certain things you should never do with fireworks. At the time, I did most of them. He did all of them. In this case I was carrying firecrackers and a lighter, while my friend had bottle rockets and a bottle, which is what bottle rockets were originally to be fired from. Thus the name.

I have to be honest at this point: I can't remember which of my friends was actually carrying the bottle. I'm just basing this on the odds.

These bottles were supposed to be rested on a level spot on the ground, from which they would rocket the, um, rocket. Manufacturers suggest you lay firecrackers down, light them where they lay, then do a stunt man roll away from them. We didn't do those things.

I used to be able to do a stuntman roll. I also used to be able to see my belt without sucking in my gut.

Anyway, I was lighting the firecrackers and throwing them, even though I'd already been a firefighter for a few years and knew better. My friend was using the bottle as he should, only instead of putting it on the ground he would hold it in his hand and pointed it toward safe areas, like high grass, creosote-soaked railroad ties, or birds.

 

"Oops ... sorry about that."

 

 

 Probably bats, in this case.

Afterward it took us awhile to put together what happened.

That sentence tends to pop up in many of my stories.

I lit a firecracker. At the same time, my friend lit a bottle rocket. Our other friend was walking between us. Instead of launching, the rocket dropped into the bottle. The firecracker fuse had apparently been soaked in nitroglycerin, because there was a fuse there--but the firecracker reacted as if there wasn't.

BOOM!

Both went off at the same instant, followed closely by terrified screams, and my friends probably yelled, too. The firecracker went off in my hand. The bottle exploded into shards of glass that flew like shrapnel.

No, we didn't get our deposit back. I'll explain that joke to you younger folks later.

I waved my hand around, but at the same time didn't look at it. I had no desire to know how many digits were missing. Maybe if I ignored the problem it would go away, just like it never worked before. Would I spend the rest of my life known as "Lefty", "Three-Finger Mark", or "Stupid"?

"Look! There goes a left thumb!"
 

 

The guy who played Scotty on "Star Trek" lost a finger in World War II, and did his best to hide it when the cameras were rolling. There's a guy who could have bragged about his loss; in fact, if I had come out of this with fewer digits, I probably would have stolen his story and hoped no one asked for details.

I had minor burns on my hand; I don't think my friend even had a cut. If I had a dime for every time my hand got burned, I could buy some gloves. Still more proof that angels watch over the foolish.

I sometimes wonder if the frostbite damage done to my hands several years earlier could have protected them, somehow. That would be ironic.

The moral to this story? Well, don't be stupid. Duh. Still, memories like this give me mixed feelings when it comes to dealing with young people. On the one hand, people inexperienced in life--and seemingly further from death than I am--are going to do stupid things. That hasn't changed since the first cave-teen teased a T-Rex. On the other hand, I'd like them to learn the easy way, even though they're hard wired to learn the hard way. I prefer to split the difference and try to talk them into avoiding both death and hospitals.

Personally, I've seen enough of both.


"Heh heh ... heh heh ... cool."


 

 

 

 At the Albion Fire Department's annual appreciation dinner last weekend I received a hand tool from people who should have known better than to give me a hand tool:

No, those aren't wings growing out of my head, but I appreciate you thinking I could earn some.

 It was an award for being a volunteer firefighter for forty years, although my actual 40th anniversary was July 14 of last year. Here's the blog I wrote about it then:

https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/2020/07/40-years-as-firefighter.html

 The dinner is when awards are given out for the previous year, you see. I've already gotten a cool statue and an even cooler watch, just for sticking around. (You older people, explain "watch" to the younger ones.) You might remember that Phil Jacob was honored not long ago for hitting his 50th anniversary with the AFD; for his 60th, they have to give him a fire truck.

I know what you're thinking: "They gave you a tool?" But in all fairness, it's the power tools that usually get me in trouble. I've hardly ever hurt myself with a hand tool, this year.

Now, Mitch Fiandt got the 35 year statue, despite the fact that he's been fighting fires longer than I have:

The young punks just can't pull off the firefighting mustache like we old farts can.

I'm just that good. Or more likely it's because he put in 35 years on the AFD, but previous to that he served on the neighboring Orange Township Fire Department for eleven years.He's the only member of the AFD who remembers how to operate a steam engine.

 Other service awards that night went to Brad Rollins for 30 years, and Shane Coney for 25 years. Between the four of us, we have something like a century and a half in firefighting experience, plus sometimes we have contests to see whose joints pop the most when we get on a truck.

 
I mentioned in the last newsletter that I set my latest non-fiction project on the back burner several months ago. I was collecting photographs for a very picture-heavy history of our local fire department, which has the working title of Awesome Albion Fire Picture Book Insert Title Here.

I mean, the book has that title--not the fire department. That would be silly, and require us to letter all the trucks A.A.F.P.B.I.T.H.F.D.

Not fiscally responsible.

At the time I had a logical reason for putting it aside and working on some other writing projects, including the first draft of my favorite novel yet, We Love Trouble. (It's about a couple who, well, loves trouble.) I also wanted to get More Slightly Off the Mark published, which we have, although I've delayed promoting it until we have a chance to update the website.

I'm sure you're wondering why I decided to push back the fire photo book, which also has the proposed working title of Firefighting photo folio.

What? You're not wondering about the delay?

Well, I am. Because I have no idea.

It seemed like a good idea at the time, that's the best I can come up with. I really did have a plan, I swear. It's just that I didn't write the plan down. It doesn't help that I have a list of several dozen story ideas waiting to be addressed, from a Storm Chaser prequel to my own Oz book, not to mention the demand for my autobiography should be starting up any time now.

Now I'm back to collecting pictures--I've already got most of the framing text for the book done. You'll probably hear a fair amount in the future of me begging to borrow any photo anyone has involving the Albion Volunteer Fire Department, be it volunteers, firefighting action, the trucks, or the old firehouses. (For those of you not from around here, I'm talking Albion, Indiana, not one of the two dozen others around the USA.)

I'll have been a volunteer forty years this coming July, and I suppose to a certain extent this is my coda, as you music buffs might put it. My tribute to our people and our 130 odd year history, which sometimes could get very odd, indeed. I want to do it right.

So--and here's the part where I beg to borrow--if any of you have any photos involving the AFD you'd be willing to loan me for the project, I'd be greatly appreciative. I (by which I mean my wife) can scan prints into her computer, then return the original. I'd especially like to see our people in the book, past or present--this is about them, more than anything.

By the time I'm done, with any luck at all ... I'll have come up with a better title.


 

 

 
 (It'll be like a combination of these two books -- but more pictures and less talk, which many people have said they'd like to see out of me.)



Oh, and of course you can contact me through our website:

“Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights: A Century or So With the Albion Fire Department

Local firefighting history, illustrated:


Proceed from all sales go to the Albion Volunteer Fire Department, so spread the word!


It's been one heck of a month so far, in a bad way, so we've delayed the debut of our new book cover a little bit. But in the meantime it remains Christmas season! Or so the Elf on the Shelf tells me. How did that little so and so get in, anyway?

My labor of love was a book that I spent a quarter of a century working on, and boy, are my researching eyes tired. But I think it appeals not only to the locals around my home town, but to anyone who has an interest in firefighting, history, or firefighting history.

Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights: A Century or So With the Albion Fire Department, covers the first hundred years of a small town fire department that I've now been a member of for almost forty years. 

For those of you who like to support a good cause, profits from the book go to the Albion Volunteer Fire Department!

For those of you who like a good deal, the e-book version price just dropped from $2.99 to $1.99! Not to mention the illustrated print version is just $9.95

 

Here's the blurb:

Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights chronicles the hazardous early days of Albion, Indiana, which like many small towns of the time tended to burn down – a lot. The story follows the efforts of townspeople to organize themselves into a firefighting force, and the personalities that stepped in along the way. It moves into modern times along with the volunteers, who face not only danger and death but changing technology and new threats. Using newspaper accounts, official records, oral stories and the fine art of digging for details, Mark R. Hunter shows how hand drawn apparatus and desperate bucket brigades turned into the trained, organized and well equipped department of today.

Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights is well illustrated with historical and firefighting photos. It’s also spiced with the humor that Hunter, the author of a novel and short story collection in addition to his column, “Slightly Off The Mark”, has become known for.

Find it on our website:  http://markrhunter.com/books.html
Or on Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
Or Barnes and Noble:  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/%22Mark%20R%20Hunter%22
Along with many other e-book platforms.
 

 

Remember, every time you pass on a book, a tiny little elf house catches on fire! Which I suppose is how they end up hanging out on shelves.

 

This article first appeared in the Albion New Era during 2009’s Fire Prevention Week.

 

 

Fire Prevention Week is here, a time in which we try to – wait for it – prevent fires. Of course, Fire Prevention Week should go on year round, but if it did we’d have to change the name. So, to give you something you can take with you all year, here’s a quick quiz to see if you know … oh, just relax, nobody’s grading you.

 


1. Fire Prevention Week was begun after a huge fire burned:
a. The City of Chicago.
b. The entire town of Peshtigo, Wisconsin.
c. A huge swath of Wisconsin and an even larger area of Michigan, all the way from one Great Lake to another.
d. Donald Trump’s hair.

The answer: All of the above. The most devastating forest fires in American history roared through Northeast Wisconsin and lower Michigan on October 8, 1871, leveling at least 16 communities, killing 1,152 people, and blackening 1.2 million acres of land – those are the conservative estimates. The disaster didn’t make much impact on the national news because of that little dust-up going on in Chicago at the same time. I was just kidding about the Trump hair..

2. President Woodrow Wilson issued the first National Fire Prevention Day proclamation in:
a. 1492.
b. 1920.
c. 1980
d. OMG! Nobody told me I’d have to memorize dates!

The answer: d. Meanwhile, since the early 20’s Fire Prevention Week has come during the same week as the anniversary of the Chicago and Peshtigo fires.

3. On the spot where the Great Chicago Fire began now stands:
a. The Chicago Fire Department Fire Academy
b. A shrine to Oprah.
c. Barack Obama’s birth certificate.
d. The burial spot of Donald Trump’s hair.

The answer: a. Can you sense the irony?

4. Okay, here’s an easy true of false question:
The Great Chicago Fire first burned down the O’Leary home.

The answer: False. Although the fire started in the O’Leary barn, a lucky breeze spared their house. However, rumors that Mrs. O’Leary’s firebug cow kicked over a lamp made them a pariah at the Homeowner’s Association meetings for the next 130 years. Later research revealed there’s no proof the O’Leary’s – or their cow – had anything to do with the fire’s origin. In fact, there’s some speculation that a fiery meteorite broke apart as it fell to Earth, explaining how several fires over three states all started at once.

 

(Experts now believe meteorites would not have started the fires, so we're back to blaming humans.)

 


5. Most fires are started by:
a. Mice with matches.
b. Men, women, and children.
c. Zeus.
d. A small, square animal called the Woozy that shoots sparks from its eyes.

The answer: b. Zeus is a myth, people – and the mouse was acquitted. Bonus points if you can tell me where I got that Woozy thing from.
Cooking, electrical problems, smoking, and children playing with fire-starting materials are the main causes of fires. Kids with matches or lighters cause hundreds of deaths every year, and that ain’t funny.

6. If a fire sets off a sprinkler system:
a. All the sprinkler heads go off, allowing our hero to escape in the confusion.
b. All the sprinkler heads go off, allowing the villain to escape in the confusion.
c. All the sprinkler heads go off, allowing the hero to electrocute the villain.
d. Only the sprinkler heads directly above the fire go off, saving untold lives and property every year.

The answer: d. You might want to consider getting a guard dog, because sprinklers are designed to control fires while doing only minimal water damage.

7. Your smoke detector batteries should be changed:
a. So you have fresh ones available for the TV remote.
b. Every spring and fall, when the clocks change.
c. Because otherwise they could develop serious diaper rash.
d. Because their behavior is just unacceptable.

The answer: b, no matter what time zone you’re in.

8. E.D.I.T.H. is important because:
a. She’s the only woman James T. Kirk ever really loved.
b. I said so.
c. Exit Drills In The Home help families escape from home fires.
d. How would Archie get along without her?

The answer: c (and b. Come to think of it, all of the above). Smoke and toxic gases from a fire can fill a home within minutes, so practicing how to safely escape from a fire, and meet up in a safe spot afterward, saves lives. Firefighters are great, if I do say so myself, but most fire victims are dead from smoke inhalation before fire trucks can reach the scene.

9. Firefighters die:
a. Because that gray is unacceptable.
b. hard.
c. in the wool.
d. At the rate of almost a hundred every year.

The answer – is pretty obvious, and not very funny. Not only is the easiest fire to fight the one that never starts, but the least dangerous fire is the one that never starts.

10: Fire is:
a. Fast, sometimes engulfing a home in just a few minutes.
b. Dark, producing dense smoke and toxic gases.
c. Hot, over 1,000 degrees in a typical structure fire and searing lungs even at a distance from the flames.
d. Deadly, killing 2,900 people in 2008, injuring 14,960 others, and causing over twelve billion dollars in damage.

The answer: All of the above, and that’s no joke. So the next time you see or hear something serious about fire prevention – pay attention. When the real test comes, it’s life or death.

 

 

 

Find all of our books at:

http://markrhunter.com/

https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO

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