After 6 days of suffering with a sore throat, our fellow Firefighter, Steve, finally went to the doctor to have it checked out. The usual vital signs were taken and the doctor came in a few minutes later. After asking questions regarding his health and how long he had the sore throat for, Steve was given a gown and asked to strip down to his underwear.
He called me on the cell phone at this point.
"What do I do? I'm wearing the briefs I got for my birthday!" (Yes, there are still some people in this world... even grown men.... who get underwear for their birthday!)
"I don't know, " I told him. "There's nothing you can do. Just take it like a man. No one told you to wear those briefs!"
We hung up.
Steve undressed as directed and waited for the worst. The doctor walked in, looked at Steve's underwear and said, "Real cute. From a woman?"
"Yeah. A birthday gift," Steve says.
The doctor was right. Steve's glands were swollen. All the way down to his groin. He was put on antibiotics and sent home to rest for a few days. Instead, he made a detour to the Firehouse.
Steve storms into the Firehouse. "Where IS she???" he asks.
I am sitting in the living room and I can see Sheena's shadow on the wall make a U-turn. After all, she is the only "SHE" here.
Everyone asks him what happened and he tells them. They all begin to laugh and hoot and holler. I swear some of them were rolling around on the ground.
"It's NOT funny!" Steve defends himself.
"Yes it is!"
"This is the best ever!"
"I can't believe this story is about you and not HER!"
"This IS about her. SHE gave them to me!" Steve says.
"She didn't tell you to actually WEAR them," someone says.
"I didn't have any clean ones," he says.
"So let me get this right," Captain Harold says as he comes into the room. "You didn't have clean underwear except the ones Sheena gave you for your birthday." (Harold didn't know the whole story about the briefs Sheena gave Steve). "And now you are upset at her because you had to strip down to your skivvies at the doctor's. I don't understand why you would blame HER for that!"
"You don't understand, Cap," Steve says. "It wasn't the briefs or the fact they were given as a gift. It's what she DID to them! And I owe her one!"
Harold looked confused. He had no clue what Steve was talking about. All of a sudden, Steve lowers his sweat pants to show Harold what he is talking about. By now all the guys are in great fits of laughter. It's the kind of laughter where a guy dances around and jumps up and down and looks totally out of control. (We men know how to have a good time!)
Harold tries to not laugh. And it was very difficult for him. Then he lost it. After he regained control, all he could say was, "I think she is hiding somewhere in here. Go for it!"
Steve took off looking for Sheena. Captain Harold looked at all of us and shook his head. "Where DOES she come up with these things???" He was referring to the personalized screen print on the briefs:
THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING US!
Steve never did find Sheena that day. He wasn't angry at her. He just wanted to tell her to beware because he was going to get her back. He DID get her back about a month later. And it was a great joke. But that will be another story later.
12 October 2008
06 October 2008
Our Firehouse Mascots: Signore Seguace and Luca
Lately we have been getting many requests for photos of our Firehouse Mascots....... Seguace and Luca. After 60+ requests, we decided to post their photos. Neither one of them holds still long enough to take a picture so this was the best we could do.
Enjoy!
From all of us at the Firehouse
Enjoy!
From all of us at the Firehouse
04 October 2008
9-11... Can't forget... Won't forget.
I was in Italy at the time of the attack on the World Trade Center. My Captain called me within an hour and asked me to come back to the US immediately. He was gathering together a Search and Rescue team and I was to lead the team. It took me 20 hours from that phone call to the time I landed in San Francisco. I was met at the airport by my partner, Rick and my Captain. On the way to the Firehouse, I was briefed on what was going on.
My Mother had called me as soon as I landed in San Francisco, sounding frantic and she was crying. "Tell me you aren't in New York!" she pleaded.
"No Mamma, I'm not and wasn't." (She was afraid for me because I had been meeting our publisher every couple months for this book our Firehouse is writing).
I didn't want to alarm her but needed to be truthful with her.
"Mamma? Some of us in the Firehouse are going there in the next day or two. We are going to be part of the Search and Rescue. Everything will be ok. Alright?"
She cried more and told me to be careful. I remember as a little girl when Kennedy got shot and how she ran through the house in an epileptic panic and cried and tried to hug me but I couldn't return her hugs effectively because I didn't know what was happening. I was scared too but all I could do was say, "Don't cry, Mamma. Everything will be okay." And here I was saying the same words to her again. And once again she was trying to believe the words of her "little girl."
Five of us on the Search and Rescue team gathered our equipment and headed for New York with our Rescue dogs. I can still feel the horrible ache that was in my heart when I saw what was left of the Twin Towers from our plane. There wasn't a dry eye on the plane and it was only going to get worse. I could feel it.
Arriving at Ground Zero... the smell of metal, burning wires and death made me choke. I tried so hard to fathom what kind of evil people could have done this. It was incomprehensible. This was OUR country but had this happened anywhere else in the world, my heart would have broke all the same. Evil is evil no matter where in the world it shows its face.
One thing I always disliked was when people would say, "God Bless America." I often wondered why people didn't think God would bless the WORLD!
We gathered our rescue dogs and eqipment and we were directed where to start our searches. We were one of the few groups to have our dogs fitted with booties so they wouldn't hurt their feet walking over sharp and dangerous things. I later found out someone had donated booties to all the dogs who were part of the search and rescue efforts.
As we sifted through the rubble, we found people still alive and each time we were overcome with such emotion. Each rescue was a victory. Along with finding survivors, we also found those who didn't survive. There were lots of body parts that we gathered along the way praying and hoping that those people would be identified one day to give their families closure.
One evening, during a search, my dog started whining. He laid down on the ground with his head and eyes down. I knew he had found something. I wasn't prepared for what I was about to see. I hadn't gotten used to the body parts we were finding but I was sure I had seen most everything at that point.
I called for Rick to come to us.
"He found something," I told Rick.
"What is it?" Rick asked.
I told him I wasn't sure yet because I hadn't looked and quite frankly I had a bad feeling about what it was. I motioned the dog away, praising him for finding something. And there is was. It took everything in me not to throw up or faint.
"Jesus Christ!" Rick moaned.
I could feel the tears roll down my face. My hands were shaking. I am a very strong person but at that moment I was proven wrong. I took off the scarf I had around my neck that I was using to keep from inhaling too much dust and smoke from the debris. I gently scooped up what we found and wrapped it in my scarf. I held it close to my chest as if to keep it warm knowing it was much too late.
"You okay?" Rick asked.
I was shivering so bad. I looked at him and his eyes were filled with tears.
"No, I'm not," was all I could say, my teeth chattering.
I knew that there were body bags and buckets where we were putting the body parts we were finding. I couldn't imagine leaving this in a bag or bucket. I didn't want to put it anywhere. I wanted to find the rest of it; where it came from.
I remember seeing the area where they were gathering all the bits and pieces from victims. I don't know what happened to me. I stopped and dropped to the ground on my knees and just wept. I don't remember Rick trying to comfort me. I only know that I could not be comforted. To think that terrorists could do all this without a bit of guilt. It hurt me to the core.
Exhausted, Rick guided me towards the make-shift outdoor morgue.
"Whatcha got?" the Coroner asked.
I couldn't say anything and he asked again.
"This has to go in a special place. Please?" I said, beginning to cry again.
He walked over to me and pulled back the scarf to uncover what I was holding.
"Please?" I said again. "A special place. Not with all the rest of the parts."
"Holy Mother of God!" the Coroner screamed. His face turned pale.
I know Coroners see the worst possible things in life (and death) but looking around Ground Zero, knowing what happened there and thinking to moments that led up to my "find," it was almost impossible to fathom.
"I'll make sure it has a special place," he said calmly. "I promise."
And he took the 5 month fetus from my arms, still wrapped in my scarf. It was a boy. My heart ached for the Mother of this baby. She was still out there perhaps and she had to be reunited with her baby one way or another. A few weeks later, I found out that through DNA, Mother and baby were reunited and buried together.
We spent many more days at Ground Zero. First it was Search and Rescue and then it turned to Recovery efforts. For months after that, my men and I went for counseling to try and understand our emotions. We went through periods of being very sad and depressed to being terribly angry.
People around us always seemed to keep reminding us of Ground Zero. They would give us books or articles about 9-11. We would thank them graciously for the gift. I know they meant well but we could never open any of those books. We still have three of those books sitting in my Firehouse. They have never been opened let alone read. It is not that I want to forget that horrific disaster. I just don't want to remember those days or what all the Rescue workers went through. I don't want my heart to keep breaking forever. And I don't want the image of that unborn baby to haunt me forever.
My Mother had called me as soon as I landed in San Francisco, sounding frantic and she was crying. "Tell me you aren't in New York!" she pleaded.
"No Mamma, I'm not and wasn't." (She was afraid for me because I had been meeting our publisher every couple months for this book our Firehouse is writing).
I didn't want to alarm her but needed to be truthful with her.
"Mamma? Some of us in the Firehouse are going there in the next day or two. We are going to be part of the Search and Rescue. Everything will be ok. Alright?"
She cried more and told me to be careful. I remember as a little girl when Kennedy got shot and how she ran through the house in an epileptic panic and cried and tried to hug me but I couldn't return her hugs effectively because I didn't know what was happening. I was scared too but all I could do was say, "Don't cry, Mamma. Everything will be okay." And here I was saying the same words to her again. And once again she was trying to believe the words of her "little girl."
Five of us on the Search and Rescue team gathered our equipment and headed for New York with our Rescue dogs. I can still feel the horrible ache that was in my heart when I saw what was left of the Twin Towers from our plane. There wasn't a dry eye on the plane and it was only going to get worse. I could feel it.
Arriving at Ground Zero... the smell of metal, burning wires and death made me choke. I tried so hard to fathom what kind of evil people could have done this. It was incomprehensible. This was OUR country but had this happened anywhere else in the world, my heart would have broke all the same. Evil is evil no matter where in the world it shows its face.
One thing I always disliked was when people would say, "God Bless America." I often wondered why people didn't think God would bless the WORLD!
We gathered our rescue dogs and eqipment and we were directed where to start our searches. We were one of the few groups to have our dogs fitted with booties so they wouldn't hurt their feet walking over sharp and dangerous things. I later found out someone had donated booties to all the dogs who were part of the search and rescue efforts.
As we sifted through the rubble, we found people still alive and each time we were overcome with such emotion. Each rescue was a victory. Along with finding survivors, we also found those who didn't survive. There were lots of body parts that we gathered along the way praying and hoping that those people would be identified one day to give their families closure.
One evening, during a search, my dog started whining. He laid down on the ground with his head and eyes down. I knew he had found something. I wasn't prepared for what I was about to see. I hadn't gotten used to the body parts we were finding but I was sure I had seen most everything at that point.
I called for Rick to come to us.
"He found something," I told Rick.
"What is it?" Rick asked.
I told him I wasn't sure yet because I hadn't looked and quite frankly I had a bad feeling about what it was. I motioned the dog away, praising him for finding something. And there is was. It took everything in me not to throw up or faint.
"Jesus Christ!" Rick moaned.
I could feel the tears roll down my face. My hands were shaking. I am a very strong person but at that moment I was proven wrong. I took off the scarf I had around my neck that I was using to keep from inhaling too much dust and smoke from the debris. I gently scooped up what we found and wrapped it in my scarf. I held it close to my chest as if to keep it warm knowing it was much too late.
"You okay?" Rick asked.
I was shivering so bad. I looked at him and his eyes were filled with tears.
"No, I'm not," was all I could say, my teeth chattering.
I knew that there were body bags and buckets where we were putting the body parts we were finding. I couldn't imagine leaving this in a bag or bucket. I didn't want to put it anywhere. I wanted to find the rest of it; where it came from.
I remember seeing the area where they were gathering all the bits and pieces from victims. I don't know what happened to me. I stopped and dropped to the ground on my knees and just wept. I don't remember Rick trying to comfort me. I only know that I could not be comforted. To think that terrorists could do all this without a bit of guilt. It hurt me to the core.
Exhausted, Rick guided me towards the make-shift outdoor morgue.
"Whatcha got?" the Coroner asked.
I couldn't say anything and he asked again.
"This has to go in a special place. Please?" I said, beginning to cry again.
He walked over to me and pulled back the scarf to uncover what I was holding.
"Please?" I said again. "A special place. Not with all the rest of the parts."
"Holy Mother of God!" the Coroner screamed. His face turned pale.
I know Coroners see the worst possible things in life (and death) but looking around Ground Zero, knowing what happened there and thinking to moments that led up to my "find," it was almost impossible to fathom.
"I'll make sure it has a special place," he said calmly. "I promise."
And he took the 5 month fetus from my arms, still wrapped in my scarf. It was a boy. My heart ached for the Mother of this baby. She was still out there perhaps and she had to be reunited with her baby one way or another. A few weeks later, I found out that through DNA, Mother and baby were reunited and buried together.
We spent many more days at Ground Zero. First it was Search and Rescue and then it turned to Recovery efforts. For months after that, my men and I went for counseling to try and understand our emotions. We went through periods of being very sad and depressed to being terribly angry.
People around us always seemed to keep reminding us of Ground Zero. They would give us books or articles about 9-11. We would thank them graciously for the gift. I know they meant well but we could never open any of those books. We still have three of those books sitting in my Firehouse. They have never been opened let alone read. It is not that I want to forget that horrific disaster. I just don't want to remember those days or what all the Rescue workers went through. I don't want my heart to keep breaking forever. And I don't want the image of that unborn baby to haunt me forever.
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