Tag Archives: wildland fire fighters

Semper Recordabor

0
Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, Historical, impediments, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

June 30, 2023- The young man stood tall, before his audience of nearly a thousand people, speaking as if to his family. He spoke of numbers: His current age (16); the age of adulthood (18); his age at the time of his father’s tragic passing (6); the number of men who died ten years ago today, in the most lethal wildfire in Arizona history(19). He told of how, each time his father left for work as a Wildland Firefighter, the message was: “You are the man of the house, while I am gone. Obey and protect your mother and guard your brothers and sister.” He became the man of the house for a long, long time, on June 30, 2013. He spoke of his current age as a time of greater responsibility, for which both of his parents had prepared him well. His audience gave him a standing ovation, at the end of a magnificent exhortation to us all, to love one another and honour our community.

Messages came from afar, from our junior United States Senator and our District’s Congressman and directly, from Arizona’s Governor and Prescott’s Mayor, as well as from the Chief of Prescott’s Fire Department and from Arizona’s State Forester. It was Ryder Ashcraft, though, who truly spoke for the Granite Mountain Hotshots and their families-almost in his father’s voice.

I spent much of the day beforehand, hiking four miles roundtrip, on the flank of Yarnell Hill. Well-watered and shielded from the blazing sun, passing before placards honouring each of the nineteen men, I was one of about thirty-six people engaged in the tribute walk. Some made a day of it, going all the way to the vale where the men perished, on that awful afternoon.

Below, a big horn sheep watches over the hikers.

Above, a beam of light makes an exclamation point. It was the perfect spot for noting a superlative.

There are, it seems, always watchers.

Just past the last placard honouring a fallen Hotshot, this boulder evokes a broken heart.

Afterwards, when looking for a place to sit, I found a small spot of curb. Two ladies asked if they could share the space, so room was made for three. A much younger man came along and said we were taking his space. He and family were on blankets behind us, but he wanted an unobstructed view. His three children rolled their eyes at Dad’s protest, and sat on the curb next to me on the other side, with no sense of entitlement. No thing further was heard from him, the rest of the ceremony.

I helped the older of the two women get up and down, for the Pledge of Allegiance and other opening ceremonies. The audience was, for the most part, cooperative and respectful. As our mayor said, we must never forget the sacrifice made, ten years ago.

Semper Recordabor!

The Road to 65, Mile 214: The Black Tiles

0
Posted by on in Personal goals, Social

June 30, 2015, Prescott- This is where I resume the practice of writing two posts a day.  Morning will feature a reminiscence of the day just prior.  Evening will bring a post related to a just-completed journey to the Pacific Northwest and southeast Alaska.  Thus, you will not a juxtaposition in the “Miles” referenced.

On June 30, 2013, I was returning from a visit to the Navajo community of Dinebito and the Hopi village of Polacca.  Whilst driving through Leupp, on the way back, a bulletin came on KNAU.  19 wildland fire fighters had been killed in a windblown firestorm, at Yarnell, west of Prescott.  The team had been based in Prescott itself.  The communities of Yarnell and Peeples Valley had been evacuated, thus giving me an exact message as to what had to be done next.  I went directly to the Red Cross shelter, at Yavapai College, and served, as needed, there for the next four days, while working around a family event in San Diego.

All of that is now a blur, but the suffering of the “Hot Shot’s” families, ever since, is all too real.  Their day-to-day recovery has been undermined by the crusty attitude of many here in the area- “The men knew what they were getting into, when they signed on. Don’t give the survivors a dime more than they’re due already.”  Fortunately, enough of us Prescottonians can look beyond that benighted view of life, so that the surviving families have prevailed, in the courts and in every day life.  A foundation has been established, to handle the most pressing long-term needs.

There is a tradition, in the firehouse, that a rookie does not step on the set of black tiles that lines the middle of the floor, until he or she has been through a major blaze.  The tiles in Station 17, where the Hot Shots were housed, are now enshrined.  No one steps on them.

This leads me to thinking. Years ago, my father-in-law took me aside and said, “You have had some fine experiences as a couple, already.  You have not, though,as yet, been through more than a minor bump or two.  That was in 1985.  Since then, everyone who knows me, has witnessed the real rough patches.  The years from 2003-2011 were enough for any person’s life education.  I have stepped on the black tiles of my own life house.  It is a humbling place, and not often  a lonely one- thanks to those who have stayed as true friends.

As I stood this afternoon, on the Court House lawn, listening to the Fire Marshall offer words of respect for the fallen, the thought came that, while there is no guarantee that a fresh calamity won’t come our way, tomorrow, the sense of community that transcends even the differences of opinion,which sometime threaten to tear us asunder, will be what lifts us in a healing and forward-moving direction.  Yes, love is the secret.