I read Bill's memories of his dad, Smoke, yesterday, and started thinking about what it was like for me to grow up the son of a fireman. I always thought it was special in school, little league or around the neighborhood when asked what my father did for a living to answer "my dad is a fireman". I was proud. I thought I was part of a special group of kids who had a father who was a firefighter. I thought everyone appreciated that his job was to help people and save lives even though I later learned differently. But I was always proud of what he did.
Things were a little different in my house than it was for other kids on my block. My dad worked odd hours. He was home when other dads weren't but he worked when everyone else had their fathers at night and on the weekends. He worked two day tours and two night tours every week. We had a lot of nights without him. I always thought Santa thought firefighters were special. When my dad worked Christmas day, Santa knew his schedule and magically came Christmas Eve before he left for work in the morning. For Christmas, we received a toy (firefighters did not make a lot of money), a stocking and some socks and underwear. If we were lucky, the toy was a fire truck. But we were happy.
My father had to work a second job - moonlighting. He delivered propone gas, worked in a drug store, construction work and numerous other odd jobs to pay the bills for 5 kids, mom and grandma. There were department rules about what he could do and the hours he could work on his second job. He also helped any other brother firefighter who had a construction project, paint job, moving need, landscaping project or needed help in any way. I was lucky because I was able to help him on many of these jobs and projects. I learned the mechanic, carpenter, painter, builder skills that all firefighters seemed to know.
We did not go out to eat much - maybe pizza on Fridays. Dad was always in the kitchen, trying to try a new recipe he learned in the firehouse. Most did not work well but they were interesting. (continued)
Things were a little different in my house than it was for other kids on my block. My dad worked odd hours. He was home when other dads weren't but he worked when everyone else had their fathers at night and on the weekends. He worked two day tours and two night tours every week. We had a lot of nights without him. I always thought Santa thought firefighters were special. When my dad worked Christmas day, Santa knew his schedule and magically came Christmas Eve before he left for work in the morning. For Christmas, we received a toy (firefighters did not make a lot of money), a stocking and some socks and underwear. If we were lucky, the toy was a fire truck. But we were happy.
My father had to work a second job - moonlighting. He delivered propone gas, worked in a drug store, construction work and numerous other odd jobs to pay the bills for 5 kids, mom and grandma. There were department rules about what he could do and the hours he could work on his second job. He also helped any other brother firefighter who had a construction project, paint job, moving need, landscaping project or needed help in any way. I was lucky because I was able to help him on many of these jobs and projects. I learned the mechanic, carpenter, painter, builder skills that all firefighters seemed to know.
We did not go out to eat much - maybe pizza on Fridays. Dad was always in the kitchen, trying to try a new recipe he learned in the firehouse. Most did not work well but they were interesting. (continued)