Thank you, simple words
but there's nothing simple about the depth of my gratitude
Before I commence, while I write specifically about firefighters in this post, I want to convey how grateful I am for every person in every capacity that worked on the Mosquito Fire. I have no doubt that your efforts will follow you and return your kindness in the most unexpected of ways.
Yesterday I awoke in the wee morning hours, likely 2:00 a.m. I rarely look at the clock when I wake up so early. Slowly realizing that I was awake and that my mind was already putting together this post, I settled in and made myself comfortable (I’ve been through this drill a time or two.) I spent the next few hours contemplating the vital role that firefighters have at times played in my life. The tears fell off and on as I revisited memories. I'll be the first to admit that when it's not fire season, or Rick isn't lying on our kitchen floor, I'm not thinking about firefighters. And that's as it should be. Spending time, though, giving thanks and creating this post feels necessary.
Throughout the Mosquito Fire, we began and ended our days listening to the live video updates. The recordings lasted typically 20 minutes, featuring many different speakers, and translated by an ASL interpreter.
Having worked as a court reporter for nearly 20 years, I understand the difficulty of keeping up with a fast talker. I loved watching the various interpreters at the bottom of the screen working hard to share what each speaker had to say, especially on the few mornings that seemed fraught with more tension than usual. On those mornings, we could feel the urgency, even remotely.
The cast of characters beginning and ending our days on the screen, began to feel like distant family. We learned a lot about their day-to-day struggles.
At one point, over 3700 souls were working on this fire, many traveling from points unknown.1 Leaving behind the comfort of home and family, swapping their own beds for uncomfortable living quarters with little to no privacy, some firefighters sleeping amongst the trees, eating what I'm sure was less than an optimal diet, breathing in the toxic smoke day in and day out, working in temperatures right around 100 degrees, not including the heat generated by the fire, and continuing to put one boot in front of the next, regardless of how tired and uncomfortable and homesick they might be— all of these thoughts and more made their way to me and remained until I had the outline for this post, which finally allowed me to drift back off to sleep around 4.
We heard "mop up" more times than I could count. "Mop up" became a term of endearment.2 We learned about the fire’s behavior from the night before and always understood the day's plan for air enforcement. The weather forecast was a critical discussion, as were the medical instructions each morning and evening. If not feeling well, firefighters were implored not to ignore symptoms and get tested! Communication on the firefront was imperative, and daily Walkie-talkie instructions were paramount.
We reviewed the fire's edge on the map at every meeting, hoping for more black lines.3 We even learned about personal issues among the crews, people feeling bullied at times or complaints that some were calling in their food orders to avoid standing in long lines. I was reminded that these heroes are mortal and subject to the same character flaws we all suffer from.
A unique attribute, though, that sets them apart from the average person is their willingness to help others under the most adverse of conditions, sacrificing their comfort, health, safety, and time with loved ones. Few professions call for such extreme sacrifice. I believe that becoming a firefighter is nothing short of a calling and that they serve as earthly angels.
I am deeply thankful for those unselfish and courageous souls that find the strength and determination to follow that calling.
I am one among thousands of residents in our area who are sending their immense gratitude at this time to the many firefighters who helped to save our homes.
But on a personal note, I send my thanks for…
Protecting our home from the Mosquito Fire and the Country Fire a few years back…
Arriving timely and lugging your equipment down our long driveway to help Rick, and put me at ease the best you could…
Rescuing and assisting the victims of the 2010 San Bruno pipeline explosion. Rick's mother lived a block from the blast site. 4…
And lest we not forget, those sweet guys that helped remove a goofy kid's fingers from an egg beater so many years ago.
The definition of thankful is “expressing gratitude and relief.”
The definition of gratitude is “readiness to show appreciation for and to return kindness.”
I can only hope that my words convey how much gratitude my heart holds for our firefighting heroes and that I am returning even a fraction of their kindness.
37,000+ personnel were assigned to the Mosquito Fire (not all firefighters.)
“For our wildland firefighters, mopping-up describes the hard physical labor process of extinguishing or removing burning material near control lines down to the mineral soil, felling fire damaged trees, and cooling ash pits to make a fireline less likely to escape or to reduce residual smoke.”
The black lines on a fire map indicate containment.
Rick’s mother Pat lived a block away from the blast site in the 2010 San Bruno pipeline fire. My dear friend Colleen’s husband Battalion Chief Ron Lavezzo headed up the strike team. Ron is now retired, but her two sons Gino and Giorgio have taken up where Ron left off. Photos above and below.
I always feel like there are never enough words of praise and gratitude for our first responders, but sister, you nailed. Amen to all you’ve so eloquently stated. 🥰
Bravo♥️