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CHASING
DOWN A BOYHOOD DREAM
By Bob Olliver
It’s the middle of
the day. It’s dark. No, its pitch black… literally. I find myself trudging
up stairs without a clue as to where I’m going, what I’m doing, or, most of
all, what to expect. I am really uncomfortable and even a little scared. I
never imagined I would be scared. After all, I was living a dream I had had
since I was a little boy. It didn’t feel like this in those dreams, or in
those countless hours running around with a garden hose dousing Dad’s prized
delphinium, pretending they were towering flames. How could my imagination
have played such a dirty trick on me?
I was in the throes
of my first fire. Surrounded by two very experienced fellow volunteer fire
fighters, I was finding my way through the training center’s burning
building, on the way to a room that had a healthy fire burning in the
corner.
We
climb the stairs in the dark. If it weren’t for the fact that am helping
tote the hose, and thus am connected to the man in front of me, I wouldn’t
have a clue where I was headed. Did I mention that it is dark? The smoke
helps ensure that there isn’t any light at all. We get to the flaming room.
I’m told to drop to my knees to keep from getting scorched by the heat and
to increase my chances of being able to see, since the billowing smoke rises
and hence is thickest at the ceiling. Even though I am an experienced scuba
diver, the breathing apparatus I am wearing is different enough to make
breathing strained. I am wondering what I was thinking when I volunteered.
Is it too late to back out?
Finally the fire is
doused and we get the “all clear” to vacate. By the time we are back
outside, I am so thankful that it’s over. As we are debriefing, I discover
my fellow firefighters excitedly want to do it again. I can only think, “I
can do it again…yeah, in about a year!”
Greg and Kent
persuade me to go back in, but not by being pushy. They tell me the second
time is a totally different experience. They tell me I did really well and
owe it to myself to do it again. I sense their confidence, feel their
aptitude and appreciate their encouragement.
Then the skies part
and everything becomes clear for me. I had been expecting it to be easy and
to come naturally. If it were easy, every little kid that shared my dream
would be doing it and there would be no need for courageous, committed
adults. Here was a chance be part of something that someday might be
necessary and might really make a difference.
We put our bunker
gear back on, get fresh air tanks, safety check each other and back in we
go. This time I know what to expect. I know that I can breathe; I know my
gear will protect me. Most of all, though, I realize that this is not an
individual effort. I am part of a team, and what we are doing isn’t a random
act, but rather a cross between science, chemistry, physics and training.
These guys have taken the same path I am on, but they know their stuff. I
might be greener than a Brazilian tree frog, but I am starting to sense that
there is hope for me.
I don’t fear the fire
anymore, at least not in the same way. I respect it. I know it can be beat.
I know I am part of a group of men and women who really care about our
community. I’m glad that something called me to volunteer and that
volunteers are needed.
That was the first
live burn training I was able to participate in, but not the first training.
Other trainings have covered things like search and rescue, a simulated
situation involving several fire trucks and fire fighters, even driving the
fire trucks through an obstacle course. It’s all serious, but it’s fun too.
The trainings are ongoing and eventually cover everything one needs to know.
I delayed
volunteering for several years because I felt that I could never live up to
whatever would be required of me. Had I only taken the time to ask sooner I
would have found out that contributing was well within my ability and
availability. I came without experience — only desire, enthusiasm and
willingness to take part. Whatever else I lack is provided by the Boulder
Mountain Fire Authority: training, equipment (wildland fire gear and bunker
gear), communications equipment, the fire trucks, the firehouse,
encouragement and camaraderie. It’s a great way to give something back to
this wonderful place where we live.
from the Pine Brook Press, Winter, 2000
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