I am a firefighter. I volunteer. I train and learn. I
respond. You do not want to see me. If you see me, in all of my gear, it means
today is not a good day for you. You do not know me, but you put your trust in
me. I am supposed to make your day better. I do not wear a cape, but on some
occasions, I am expected to save the day.
I am a
second generation firefighter, following in tradition, as often happens in this
field. I am a firefighter, like my father before me. Everyone who wanted me to
fail because I am another Mikulan or because I am a woman-you failed. I am a
firefighter, like my father before me. As a child, my dad was serving as a
volunteer fire chief. Despite the memory of the fear that my ten year old self
felt on 9/11, believing that my father would have to go to New York for those
raging fires and not return, I still joined as a junior firefighter when I was
old enough. I never looked back. Being a firefighter is everything that I have
ever wanted. It is not a job for everyone, but it is a job that you must truly
love to do. At 14, you do not realize the scope of the risks you are
inheriting. The years went by, and I developed as a firefighter. At least one
night a week, my time was spent with classes and learning. On other occasions,
I went out of my station to go elsewhere to train. Did I miss things? Yes. Were
there times when my friends wanted to go out, and I would respond, “Sorry, I have
drill.” Yes. Was it worth it? Yes. Even while away at college, there would be times
I would miss out on with my friends because I would go home to go to a drill or
fundraiser.
Now I see
myself and look back. I have responded to floods that devastated neighborhoods.
I have spent the twilight of a Christmas morning at a structure fire. Just last
year, when the clock struck midnight for the New Year, I was riding in the cab
a fire truck, returning from another house fire. When I turned 16, I was old
enough to become an emergency medical technician, and I did. The week after I
finished my finals for my junior year, I obtained my Firefighter 1 Pro-Board,
national certification. There have been times that I have struggled, but I
always realize one thing: I am a firefighter. I do not see how anything could
ever change that. Why else would I put so much time in training and
fundraising? It is time consuming. Being a firefighter is not easy. While I may
never be paid to do anything firefighting-related, I plan on continuing my
career as a volunteer, hoping to achieve my Fire Instructor and Fire Officer
certifications.
It is hard
being away from the department like I
am while I attend college. I miss it. I miss the hard work that goes into it.
Even when I am away, I still know that it is a part of me. I can imagine the
smell of the turn-out gear, the weight of the air pack on my back, once
extremely intimidating, now a solid reminder, or the feeling of that first
breath of cool air when I connect my regulator into my face piece. Two of my
brothers are firefighters too, when they tell me of calls or drills I have
missed, I get jealous at times. I wish I was there with them, pulling lines,
forcing doors, or setting up and climbing ladders to get access to the roof.
I am a
volunteer firefighter. I am the luckiest girl in the world. For every day that
I can call myself a firefighter, I am thankful. This job can be hard, dirty,
painful, disgusting, and frustrating. I have been bruised, cut, bloodied and
strained by it. I am a walking contrast, a sorority girl with bows in my hair,
taking out them or taking of my hoop earrings and throwing them in my locker as
I get geared up to go on a run. But I
wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. This job has made me stronger. It
has forced me to grow, physically and mentally. Being a firefighter is a gift,
not an obstacle.
We ask a lot from the community, with all of
the fundraisers we have. But believe me when I say that your support is
necessary, valuable, and much appreciated. Firefighting is not cheap. Our gear
and our apparatus cost thousands of dollars; all of it is costly. It can be
expensive to save lives and sustain property. Know that for those donation
letters we send or the tickets we try to sell, when we get those final numbers,
it can be like a weight lifting off of our shoulders-for a moment. After one
fundraiser is finished, we are already thinking about the next. Always, we have
to be thinking ahead, whether it be fundraisers, planning training drills, and
responding. Responding to emergencies always requires us to be ahead. Being a
firefighter has changed my life.
I am a
firefighter. I am a part of something more. I am part of a brotherhood. It is
nothing to me to call another firefighter my brother. I have never met a
firefighter who did not truly love that job with all of their heart. You have
to. There is no other way. We are our own culture. I can’t explain the bonds
with my brothers and sisters, just know that I always have their backs. I
understand that it is not normal to run into burning building when others are
running out. It is not natural to run into danger. However, I see it as a job
that someone has to do. I know that I am lucky to be a firefighter. I am living
a dream. I am not a hero. I am a firefighter. I took this job knowing it
wouldn’t be easy. I have struggled. But it has been worth it. If there ever
comes a day that I am longer a member of a fire department, there will always
be a part of me that would want to go back. Firefighting will always hold a
place in my heart.
The helmet
weighs heavily on my head, but that’s okay. This job can have heavy meaning.
The heavy weight is a reminder to always be prepared for whatever obstacles are
thrown our way. In all of my gear, face mask on, breathing air from my SCBA,
all you may know about me is that I am a firefighter, perhaps you may see the
Mt. Troy shield on my helmet or V. Mikulan on my back. In that moment, it does
not matter who I am, what matters is if I get the job done. All you know is
that you need a firefighter to do something. I am a firefighter.
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