After speaking with a number of firefighters over the last couple months, I can’t help but be reminded of the night I witnessed a group of them in action up close and personal when they came to my house the night my family needed them most.
My dad was a volunteer firefighter for nearly 25 years, so I grew up watching him race off to fight fires and help people during the worst times of their lives. As a child it was exciting to watch the fire trucks race out of town, the firefighters inside not knowing what they’d be facing but ready to do whatever was necessary. They were our heroes.
It wasn’t until I was older that I realized the actual danger my dad and the other firefighters were in each and every time they’d go out. They never knew if today was the day something would go wrong and someone would be hurt, or worse. Yet they went anyway, showing no fear, no hesitation.
One August night a number of years ago a severe storm went through the Clearwater area, where my husband and I had moved less than a year earlier after purchasing our first home. Just before 11 p.m., I was standing by the back door watching the storm, which was scarily beautiful, when the world lit up and there was the loudest boom I had ever heard. Lightning had struck the house.
At first I was more annoyed than worried, as I was watching T.V. and the force of the lightning strike knocked out all our power. For an instant I thought I smelled smoke, but it was fleeting so I gave up and went to bed.
Fortunately for us, one of our dogs knew he smelled something, and kept leaping onto the bed on top of me. This wasn’t like him, so I got back up to investigate, starting to feel nervous.
In moments I knew something was burning, but I didn’t think it was the house, as I couldn’t see smoke or flames and the smoke detectors weren’t going off. I figured the slough was on fire, which scared me enough to wake up my husband.
Having gone to bed a couple hours earlier, he was groggy, but immediately woke up when he also smelled something burning. Looking for the source, he opened up the crawlspace to the attic and a thin wisp of smoke came curling out.
There was definitely a fire burning up there, and it was directly over the crib of our six month old daughter.
The fire extinguisher did little to douse the flames, so as I grabbed our daughter to escape the house, my husband ran to the neighbors’ to call the fire department. With the power out ours didn’t work, and like most people we didn’t have cell phones yet.
Although the wait seemed endless, it was only 10 minutes before the Clearwater Fire Dept. showed up. Pretty good time considering we live three miles south of town and they were all volunteers who had probably been home sleeping when they got the call.
After a brief meeting to set up their plan of action, the firefighters successfully battled our house fire. Amazingly the fire was mostly contained to the attic, although we had a lot of smoke and water damage throughout the house.
I have never been so grateful for a group of people as I was that night, and realized once again that these men and women, like my dad, truly were heroes. They saved our home and most of our possessions. Before that night they’d done their best to do the same for others, and after that night they continued to do so. You can never thank someone like that enough.
Most people don’t realize the very real dangers firefighters face every time they respond to a call. They don’t realize how much time and effort they give each month. They also don’t realize they’re paid basically nothing for everything they do.
It takes a special kind of person to be a volunteer hero. Take the time to thank them.
