Because I Can… the random thoughts of Marc Scott

A Facebook friend posted this on her status on Thursday,

(name removed) is pondering life… 6 years ago tomorrow at noonish (name removed) and I were in an major car accident and shockingly lived through it. It all happened because some young gals were excited about the first day of summer break and hurrying to get to the beach and missed a stop sign. It always makes me see how easy it all could be gone! Life is short.

Reading that one simple post brought back a rush of emotion for me.  In that moment, I relived every detail of Thursday June 26, 2003.  That day remains my toughest day as a firefighter.  A day that I suspect I will never remove from my memory.

It started with a call for a 24 year old male possible VSA (vital signs absent).  I was 24.  When we arrived on scene we found a young man, lifeless, the result of a freak accident.  While placing a ladder to the side of his barn, a strong gust of wind caught it and carried it into high voltage lines.  We began CPR immediately, though we knew there was nothing we could do to bring this young man back.  “He’s too young.  This could be me!”  As I switched off between compressions and respiration’s, those were the only two thoughts in my mind.  I tried to distract myself by counting off my motions out loud.  It wasn’t working.

I was doing OK until his parents showed up.  That is when my heart broke, not once, but twice.  Once at the mothers realization that her son was gone, and again when when the father looked head on into the same tragic reality.

As we turned the scene over to Police and EMS something happened that almost never happened at my old station.  We got a second call.  Without time to process what just unfolded.  Without a moment to catch my breath from experience I just had, we were racing back into action.

This time the call was a 2 vehicle MVC just up the road from where we were.  We arrived on scene to find one car on it’s roof in the field, against a large steel culvert that ran under the road.  The second vehicle was a good distance away in the field and it was mangled quite severely.  It was evident that extrication was going to be required.

I was assigned to medical on the vehicle in the field.  It was filled with girls who were on their way to the beach.  Certainly this is not how they expected to spend their day.  I didn’t know it at the time, but the other vehicle was driven by a girl I had gone all through school with.

I remember every detail.  From the moment we arrived on scene until the moment I assisted with loading one of the girls into the air ambulance, and we cleared the scene when both vehicles had been removed and the hydro pole that had snapped like a toothpick had been replaced.

The next night I was scheduled to speak at a youth event at my church.  I was a Youth Pastor at the time.  The idea of standing up in front of a hundred plus people was agonizing enough, withouth having to do it while still processing everything I had done the day before.  One of the things I always did was write a handout that I would give to all my kids.  I was a teen once… I know teens are easily distracted and have short attention spans.  I also know they never have a good answer when their parents ask them what the message was on.  So I figured a handout was something tangible.  They could take it, read it, or just toss it on the kitchen table when they got home.  This is the handout I wrote 6 years ago.  Thanks to my grandma and my mom, I was able to get a copy of it.

Thursday June 26th was a tough day for me and for many others.

My day started by responding to a medical call for a 24 year old unconscious male.

When I arrived on scene I found a young man, the same age as me, laying on the ground dead as a result of electrocution.  We started CPR immediately, and I managed to keep myself composed through the entire ordeal.  God has blessed me with the ability to be calm in intense situations like that.

After the paramedics arrived I had an opportunity to step back and what I saw next broke my heart.  I saw the young man’s mothers standing in the yard staring at her son whom she’d never have the opportunity to talk to again.  I kept my composure though.

Then something else happened.  The unsuspecting Father pulled into the driveway.  As the mother, his wife ran across the driveway towards his vehicle my heart broke again.  This mother was running to her husband to tell him that he too would never have the opportunity to talk to his son again.

I’ve been on the Fire Department for nearly 3 years, and death is something that I’ve had to deal with many times.  But on this particular day, it hit a little closer to home for me because this man I was doing CPR on was the same age as me.

So why am I telling you?  I’m telling you this because when that young man’s parents got out of bed in the morning, I’m confident that the thought of losing their son was nowhere in their mind.  But just a few short hours later it was a reality they were being forced to deal with.

We have no idea when God is going to call us home.  For some it could be 5, 10, 20 or 50 years.  For others, it could be a matter of days, weeks or months.

All I know for sure is that, that young man’s parents will never have a chance to tell their son they love him again.  You have a gift that they no longer do.  As soon was you’re done reading this, go hug your teen(s) and tell them you love them!

Hi-Five Never Should Have Let You Go

Steven Curtis Chapman – The Great Adventure

Last night when I went to bed, I did so still trying to decide what I was going to do today.  I’m not always the greatest at making decisions when it comes to my days off.  Often I come up with brilliant ideas, and many times, they remain in my head while I remain in bed… late… till noon… or sometimes… well… I don’t want you to get the wrong impression of me.  Lets just assume I never stay in bed past noon on my days off.

As it turned out, this morning I was jolted awake by my fire department pager.  I believe it was just after 8a.  To be honest, when it wakes me up, unless it’s still dark out, I never really bother to pay much attention to the time.  If the sun is shining, I just assume it’s sometime during the day.

When I got back from the call it was a little after 9a.  Part of me, I will not say whether it was large or small, really wanted to climb back into bed.  As one who suffers from bouts of insomnia, I just try and take sleep whenever I can get it.  It has nothing to do with being lazy.  That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

As I stood in my room, feeling almost magnetically or cosmically or, perhaps just willingly, drawn to my bed, I made a decision.  I was already up, it was my day off, so why not do something random and fun.  I do enjoy doing such things from time to time, though I confess, I don’t do them as often as a single guy as I did when I had someone to share my adventures with.  Nevertheless, my mind was made up that an adventure was in order.  I grabbed my camera, I grabbed my iPod, and I went to my truck.

Huntsville, and the area around it, is, in my opinion, one of the most beautiful places in Ontario.  I spent many summer vacations camping there.  I also know all the good spots to hit!  If you want ice cream… I’ve got a place.  If you’re into baked goods… I’ve got a place.  Looking for a little Christmas spirit on a sunny summer day… I’ve got a place.  Looking for a hike in the wilderness… I’ve got all kinds of places!  Huntsville ended up being my destination for a spontaneous road trip.

The toughest part of my random road trip was deciding which places I would hit.  With only a day at my disposal, I wouldn’t be able to take in everything I enjoy doing there.  I was going to have to be selective.  I had a near 4 hour drive to figure it out as well.

Once I got there, I stopped into a few shops I like to browse in.  I hit the bakery, one of the greatest I’ve ever experienced and bought a number of various and assorted treats.  I also went to Ragged Falls, which is one of my favorite sights to see.  When I was done, I turned around, detoured through Shelburne to drop off some baked goods for my dad, who was spending his weekend there, and then I made my way home.

I really needed to get away today.  I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.  Some pretty big things.  Life altering things.  Ideas and dreams and questions.  When I need to do some serious thinking, I always enjoy a good drive.  There is nothing to distract me.  No fire calls.  No TV.  No computer.  It’s just me and the road and God in the passenger seat.  What could be better?  Well, maybe me and the road and the love of my life in the passenger seat, but there will still be room for God… my truck seats five!  That will come one day, or so I like to tell myself anyway.

All told, in just under 12 hours, I drove well over 700km’s and mostly, I did it for an amazing double chocolate cookie.  It seems ridiculous.  I mean, a full day, probably about $75 in gas, all those kilometers on my truck, and for what?  A double chocolate cookie and a little bit of thinking!

My truck turned over 222,222km’s on my road trip today.  I took a picture of this milestone and posted it on my Twitter page.  Not long after doing that one of my “Tweeps” sent me the following reply… “222 – This is a sign of confirmation that you are on the right path, doing the right thing and going in the right direction.” When I read that, I had to smile.  What a timely and relevant word, considering the reason for my spontaneous road trip in the first place.

I’m not a guy that’s big into superstitions and hocus pocus and all that jazz.  I don’t know if the “222″ thing is numerology or fortune cookie or an entirely random and imagined fact said in the moment for the sake of having something to say.  Honestly though, it doesn’t matter.  My spontaneous road trip wasn’t just about a journey to a destination, it was about a journey for confirmation; confirmation that I may have found when the odometer hit 222,222.

Michael Jackson – Man In The Mirror

For 14 years in radio, I’ve avoided the artist interview.  It’s nothing personal against the artists.  I love them all.  I think they’re great.  Mostly, it just has to do with me and my inability to converse easily with people whom I’ve never before met.  Today though, I was set up.  My boss dropped an interview on me and gave me no say in the matter.  “Don’t embarrass the family name” is what I kept repeating to myself over and over and over.

Naomi Striemer is a lovely young lady, simply lovely.  She has a beautiful voice and a great laugh, and my interview with her was a joy.  It ended up being 60 minutes of the most fun radio I’ve done in years.  If you were listening live to FM 92.1, I hope you enjoyed it.  If you missed it, I posted it here for you.

Naomi will be performing at Brantford’s Canada Day event.  She’ll take the stage at 6p.  For more on that check brantfordcanadaday.com.  I encourage you to check out the show and her album – which, by the way, she wants everybody to know will be available at her booth after her performance.  She wants you all to come and say hi!

Naomi Striemer Online
Official Site – http://www.naomistriemermusic.com/
Twitter – http://twitter.com/NaomiStriemer
MySpace – http://www.myspace.com/naomi

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So much of my life is routine; like I’m living on autopilot.  The crazy thing is, because I live so many minutes of each passing day without thinking, I don’t even realize how routine and mundane much of it is.

I wake up everyday, well, nearly everyday, at the exact same time.  I roll out of bed, throw some clothes on, come to the computer, turn it on, and then go get something to eat.  I eat cereal for breakfast.  Not so much because I’m a huge cereal fan.  More because it requires little effort, and therefore, doesn’t mess up my morning routine.  By the time my cereal is poured, my computer is on.  I sit and eat, and check my email.

After email is checked I usually spend an hour or two submitting voice-over auditions.  Then I spend an hour or two looking for things to talk about on my radio show.  At 12:30p I make a sandwich.  Either that, or I drink a glass of milk.  It depends on whether or not I remembered to by bread.  At 1p, I hit the shower and get ready for work.

I drive the same way to work most days.  I’ve discovered several routes over the past year I’ve been working at FM 92.1, but mostly I travel one route now.  It seems to be the quickest.  My work day is all routine too.  Weather at the same time.  Traffic at the same time.  News at the same time.  Features at the same time.  It’s all routine.  I could do much of my show with little, to no effort.

There is a comfort in the routine I suppose.  A familiarity.  It’s my calendar.  Ask me what day of the week it is, I can tell you only based on what I did that day.  It’s invaded every area of my life even.  For example, when I’m in the shower, I wash my right arm first… I’m left handed, so I assume that is why.  Without thought, without purpose or intention, I always wash my right arm first.

I’ve been in a funk for a week or two.  Like a bit of a daze or something.  Not that I’ve been sad or depressed or anything like that.  It’s just been a funk.  We all go through them from time to time.  I blame it on the fact that I’ve now started counting down the days until my vacation.  That’s just never a good idea!  Suddenly, the days get longer, the routine feels even more mundane, and it seems like no matter how far I outstretch my hand, my vacation still isn’t quite within it’s grasp.  That’s enough to throw anybody into a funk.

Today I decided to break the routine.  It seemed the best way to break the funk.  So I jumped in my truck about 10 or 15 minutes early and I decided I was going to find a new way to work.  I had no idea where I was going, I just figured if I kept heading west, eventually I’d end up in Brantford, or somewhere close to it.

Have you ever just set out somewhere with no plan?  It’s one of the most freeing, exciting things you can do.  It’s a little like reliving your childhood, when everything was new.  Everything was an adventure.  Each place, each object, each person was a new discovery waiting to be made.  Life was filled with mystery, anticipation and new car smell.  That was how I felt today.

I traveled roads whose crests and curves I did not know.  They made me take notice.  I saw fields of fresh cut hay, whose smells took me back to my grandpa’s farm where I practically lived as a child.  I drove one stretch of long country road that was lined so thick and tall with trees it felt as though I was journeying through a tunnel.  There were big houses and small houses, old houses and new.

At one point, I road along side a young man on a dirt bike.  He on a field trail, and I on the road.  The dust kicked up behind him like a cloud.  I flashed back to my days on a dirt bike speeding down the lane to the back field on the farm.  He traveled much faster on his bike than I ever did on mine; I clocked him at 85km/h.

A group of cyclists pedaled one of the roads.  It was fitting.  Back-roads, peaceful and undisturbed provide a solitude and safety one can’t find on busy streets and highways.  They seemed to be in some kind of race.  Each of them wearing bright colored clothing, sweat dripping from their brows as they leaned forward on their bikes with a focused determination in their eyes.  Cars lined the side of the road further down the way.  People stood waiting with cameras.  It was the finish line for the race, and it was the perfect metaphor for my own ride today.  As they crossed the line to end their race, I too was hoping to cross a line and bring about an end of my own.

My final destination was 30 minutes from my home.  Yet, I traveled down roads today that I didn’t even know existed.  I saw parts of the county I had never heard of, nor, was I even aware of.  I saw beauty all around me.  Beauty that I’ve driven around 5 days a week for a full year on my way to work.  Not that I was trying to miss it on purpose, just that I had never bothered to try and find it.  I let my routine rob me, until today.  The day I took a road not traveled.

Disciple – After The World

Ever since I was a little kid, I can remember wanting to grow up and be a fireman.  Then again, is there any little boy that hasn’t dreamed the same dream at least once?  Probably not.  Big, bright red trucks, hoses spraying water, a cool costume, shiny toys, lots of noise.  It seems to consist of all the necessary elements for a boys ideal situation.

I was lucky growing up because dad was on the fire department.  That meant I got to hang out there lots.  It meant rides in the truck, it meant playing in his old gear, it meant hanging out at the hall sometimes.  I remember getting so excited before our town parade every year.  That was a guaranteed trip to the fall hall.  I knew I’d go once to wash the trucks, and then I knew on parade day I’d get it ride in one.

It was inevitable, I suppose, that I’d end up on the fire department.  Actually, I don’t think not ending up on the fire department was ever an option for me.  I remember riding the trucks, but I knew one day I’d want to drive them.  I remember watching the hoses spray water, but I knew one day I’d want to be the one holding it.  All shiny toys carefully stored in the compartments of the fire trucks that were “lookie no touchie” were crying out for me to be old enough to finally play with them!

I’ve been doing it going on 10 years now.  I’ve seen a lot, I’ve done a lot.  Every time I climb into that truck, I still feel those butterflies of excitement like I did when I was a kid.  That feeling of jumping into your gear, sitting down in the jump seat, and pulling out of the hall with lights flashing and sirens wailing, I don’t think will ever grow old for me.  Actually, since I transferred to my new station a year and a half ago, it’s only got better for me because they do three to four times the amount of calls as my old station did.

Today I did a fire prevention event for a group of small children.  They are something I’ve always enjoyed, because it takes me back to my childhood.  I’m a little afraid of kids.  They’re pretty small, you know.  I’m always afraid of breaking one.  Especially around the fire trucks and all that equipment.  At the same time though, nothing melts my heart like seeing the joy in a little kids eyes while they’re bouncing around inside the truck or waiting for their turn to hold the hose.

Twenty five years ago, I was that kid.  I was fascinated beyond the capacity of my vocabulary.  What I couldn’t express in words, I communicated through pure joy.  All I could do was stand there with my eyes as big as saucers, and my smile as wide as my mouth would let me.  I ran, and bounced and skipped and crawled and explored everything with wonder.  I wanted to sit in the drivers seat and put my hands on a wheel that was bigger around than I was tall.  I wanted to wear the coat that swallowed me whole, leaving my head to pop out like a turtle.  I wanted to pull the handle back and watch the water shoot from the hose like a cannon.  I wanted to splash in the puddles that came after.

I smiled for 2 hours today.  It made my face hurt.  I’m sure a lack of sleep, and the hot sun may have been a factor, but mostly, it was the kids.  All of them.  The boys and the girls and watching them take in the wonder of it all.  Each time I lifted one of them into the truck, my heart melted a little bit.  Each time one of them reached out for me to bring them back down, my heart melted a little.  Each time they touched my hand and pulled the lever on the nozzle with me, my heart melted a little.

The only thing better than doing what I did today, will be the day when I am “Firefighter Marc” and the parent too.  That is the day it will have come full circle.  The day it’s my little boy, or my little girl.  Just thinking about that day makes me smile.  And maybe my little boy or little girl will grow up and become a firefighter just like me, and maybe they won’t.  Either way, I can’t wait for the chance to share it all with them like my dad did with me.

Hyper Static Union – Praying For Sunny Days