Because I Can… the random thoughts of Marc Scott

I took some time off from the blog.  It was partially intentional, and partially not, though I suspect one lead to, or, perhaps fed into, the other.  Yet, all the while this blog was sitting idle people continued to find it courtesy of my good friends at Google.  Part of me hopes they found what they were looking for.  Then again, with some of the keywords that lead them here… part of me hopes they didn’t!

Search Term: marc scott on 60 minutes
Search Engine: Google Norway
Blog Post: Blog Home Page
My thoughts: I’ve done a lot of things in my career.  I’ve hosted TV shows, I’ve done live radio, syndicated radio and I’ve done quite a bit of voice work as well.  I don’t ever recall appearing on 60 minutes though.  I’ll be really ticked off if I missed out on that.  I think it would be pretty cool.

Search Term: spoon in the butt
Search Engine: Google US
Blog Post: Ode To A Wooden Spoon (View It)
My Thoughts: So this particular blog post was about being spanked with a wooden spoon.  But nowhere in it do I recall talking about having said spoon inserted into the butt.  That’s uncomfortable to even think about.  What’s of even greater concern to me is what in the world somebody could possibly be looking for – and why – by performing such a keyword search!

Search Term: donation “World Vision”
Search Engine: Google US
Blog Post: Me (View It)
My Thoughts: I always used to be one of those guys that thought nice thoughts.  Good intentioned, I suppose would be the best way to describe it.  But my good intentions only took me so far.  We need to be people of action.  I tossed around the idea of sponsoring a child for years.  In the end it always came back to “I can’t afford it.”  Then one day I took a step of faith, and since that day a little over a year ago, I’ve never looked back.  More than that, I’ve never once struggled to make my $30/month sponsorship pledge. James 2:14-25

Search Term: texting and driving accident pictures
Search Engine: Google Canada
Blog Post: Texting & Driving (View It)
My Thoughts: I shared a video on this particular blog.  It was a very graphic public service announcement from the UK.  Shortly after I posted it, I noticed it popping up all over the internet in true viral video fashion.  Each and every person, teenagers and adults alike, that owns a cellphone and a drivers license should watch this video.

Search Term: “joshua p warren” “money making kit”
Search Engine: Yahoo US
Blog Post: Thoughts On The Throne (View It)
My Thoughts: I have to tell you, when I first saw this keyword I was quite confused.  I had no idea who Joshua P Warren was, and I sure as heck didn’t know anything about his money making kit.  I clicked on the blog post this search lead to and was quickly reminded.  ”Put this by your toilet and make money being a psychic in two weeks!”  If that’s not enough to make you want to read this blog, I don’t know what is!

Search Term: parents find out about car accident posted on facebook
Search Engine: Google US
Blog Post: Thursday June 26 2003 (View It)
My Thoughts: This keyword search made me laugh.  Sounds to me like somebody has something to hide!  I wonder what they thought when they read the blog post their search lead them to?  This one was definitely one of my more emotionally charged and personal posts.

Search Term: firefigher save cat
Search Engine: Google Latvia
Blog Post: No Glove No Love (View It)
My Thoughts: Yes I am a firefighter.  Yes I’ve saved a cat.  No it was not in a true.  Yes this is a true story!

Search Term: socks (in various keyword forms)
Search Engine: Google (several countries)
Blog Post: One Of The Toughest Things About Being A Firefighter (View It)
My Thoughts: In the last month there has been no less than 2 dozen people that have found my blog by searching for different terms involving the word socks.  ”Putting on socks” “Pulling up socks” “socks” “wearing socks” and the list goes on.  Each one of those crazy searches lead to this post.  I can’t believe how many people Google the word socks!

And finally…

Search Term: grandma was a firefighter
Search Engine: Google US
Blog Post: A Fireman’s Prayer (View It)
My Thoughts: How in the world this search ever lead somebody to my blog is beyond me, but it did.  This post is actually one that I didn’t write.  I printed a prayer that was shared with me years ago.  I think it’s cool though that somebody’s Grandma was a firefighter.

I don’t consider myself to be an emotional guy, although, the years, and to an extent, life,  have definitely softened me.  It’s not that I was ever hardened, or at least I don’t think I was.  I’m just definitely not one to wear emotion on my sleeve.

Part of that thick skin, I believe, is due to my experiences on the Fire Department.  I don’t think one would last for more than a day on the job if you let things really get to you.  You see too much.  Experience too much.  Pain, tragedy, loss, hurt, and then other times joy, relief and even humour; a spectrum of thoughts, sights, and emotions as vast as the clear blue sky.

For all the shows on television, there is only one – has only been one – that truly touches me each time I watch it.  In the span of 60 minutes my heart can break as the story begins and then leap as it ends.  My eyes can glisten with tears in one moment, and sparkle with joy in the next.  I ache from the depths of human tragedy and suffering, and then become inspired by a willingness and ability to move mountains that previously stood in the way of healing.

In my opinion, Extreme Makeover Home Edition is among the best that television has to offer simply for the fact that it’s not about me.  What I mean to say is, it’s not about self.  Television tends to be self oriented.  Game Shows about winning me big money.  Reality Shows about me winning a competition.  Sit-coms and Dramas about the pursuit of self gratification – success, wealth, sex – me… me… me.  Not me personally mind you, but me in the sense of self.

Extreme Makeover, on the other hand, is all about somebody else.  It’s about taking a tragedy, taking a loss, taking pain, taking struggles, and doing what otherwise may not be able to be done on our own.  Beating the odds.  It’s about families, friends, neighbours, and entire communities coming together for a common goal… to serve!  My heart warms just thinking about it.

I know the show has it’s critics, and I know some question it’s extravagance – though I believe it’s been toned down over the years – but all else aside, you can’t question the motives.  To change lives.  To help people.  To provide second chances.  To make the impossible, possible.  In it’s purest, simplest form… to serve.

Each week I watch the show and wish I could be a part of it.  What a joy it must be to volunteer with the show for a week.  This week, in the middle of a brutal Texas heat wave where the temperature never dropped below 100F, people kept their eye on the goal… to serve.  They cast aside their own comfort.  They worked through their own pain.  They gave their time, their effort, their energy, their blood, sweat and tears, and they did it, not for their own personal gain, but for somebody else.

This week at work somebody handed me the Future Shop flyer.  They know I enjoy browsing through it.  Wishful thinking mostly.  As the flyer was placed on the desk I joked that I shouldn’t be looking at it because it will just make me want to spend money.  The individuals response was, “well isn’t that why you work?  To make money so you can spend it on yourself?”

I thought a lot about that statement.  It made me a little sad, if I’m being honest, because it really is a reflection of the way so much of society thinks.  It’s all about me.  Things for me.  For my entertainment.  For my joy.  For my pleasure.  Sum up commom thinking in a single word… me.

It’s great to watch a show like Extreme Makeover Home Edition and be inspired.  We should be inspired!  But inspiration isn’t enough.  Thoughts are nice.  Words can be well meaning.  Actions, though, are real!  They’re love in motion.

I will likely never be on a team that builds a house in 7 days; but I could volunteer for Habitat For Humanity.  I will likely never solve world hunger; but I can make a donation to my local food bank.  I may never save a child from poverty; but I can sponsor one through World Vision.  I may never save a life; but I can touch one.

Do something this week for somebody else, with no expectation of return.  Do something that doesn’t invole “me”.

A friend of mine, and fellow firefighter, posted this video on his Facebook page.  As I watched it tonight I knew I had to share it.

I share it as a firefighter.  One who has seen the carnage caused by a motor vehicle collision.  One who has cut casualties from the mangled wreckage.  One who has seen life ended too soon.  There are images that are forever burned into my mind.  Images that nobody should have to see.  My hands have been covered in the blood.  My eyes have seen the terror on the faces of those involved, and the loved ones who are left behind.

I share it as a son, brother, grandson and nephew.  One who never wants his family to get “that call.”  I was hit head on in a vehicle once.  If I close my eyes I can replay the entire experience in my head.  It may have only taken seconds to unfold from impact to stop, but it plays out in slow motion in my mind.  It was one of the most frightening moments of my life.  I was lucky.  That time, I walked away.

I share it as a friend.  As someone who cares about you.  As someone who never wants you to know the pain.  Experience the loss.  See the devastation.  Get the call.  Or make the call.

This particular video is centered around texting and driving.  Its applications go far beyond.  Consider it while talking on your cell without a hands free device.  Remember it the next time you’ve been out and had a couple drinks.  Think about it when you’re looking in your rearview mirror the check or touch up your makeup.  Replay it in your mind while you’re rooting through your purse, book bag or trying to reach for something in the back seat.  We’re all guilty in some capacity or another.  We’ve all taken chances.  We’ve all said it will never happen to me.

I will warn you, the video is quite graphic.  However, I can also say, from experience, that it’s quite real!  Watch it.  Think about it.  Share this post with people you care about.  Get home safe.

I bought a new truck this week.  I needed one.  Well, that’s what I tell myself, and anybody else that asks as well.  My old truck was, well, old.  It was a great truck.  A faithful truck.  But it was ready for retirement.  It had definitely earned it.  I didn’t mean to buy a new truck so fast, but I tend to be a little spontaneous about my vehicle purchases.  It’s a bit of a disorder.  Nowhere near as bad as it used to be, but a disorder nevertheless.

I love my new truck.  I love it so much that I’m going to pay for it for the next 5 years.  That’s a pretty serious commitment.  Not to make light, but truth be told, that commitment will last longer than my marriage.  I suppose I shouldn’t joke about things like that, but, what else am I going to do?  I didn’t take to kindly to the idea of being divorced with little to no say in the matter.  So I suppose I use humor as my defense mechanism.  This is, however, not the point of the blog.

As I drove my new truck home I felt blessed.  I was reminded how, despite all the trials I have lived through, and trust me, there have been trials, overall, I am exceedingly blessed.  Am I wealthy?  In the financial sense, certainly not.  Does God meet my needs daily?  Indeed he does!  I am blessed.

I’ve got this competition going on with one of the girls at work.  It’s silly really.  But it’s fun.  And if you can’t have fun at work, then maybe you need to find a new job!  We’re competing for Twitter followers.  Like I said, silly.  The deal she put on the table was that if she could surpass me in the number of followers by next Wednesday, July 15, then I would go to her house and clean her bathrooms in my firefighter gear.  She would then take pictures and post them on the radio station web site.  Personally, I don’t get it.  Who wants to see pictures of me in my firefighter gear, cleaning?  As I am slowly coming to learn, however, there are many things I apparently do not understand about women!

I wanted to win this little “Twar” (that’s what you get when you take Twitter and start a war).  Yesterday afternoon I started thinking about ways I could win.  Then I thought about ways somebody else could win.  Then I had a brainstorm.  There was no rain.  No thunder.  No lightning.  But it was a storm nevertheless.  In the end, I came up with, what I thought, was a brilliant plan.  I was beyond blessed this week when I brought my new truck home.  I decided I needed to pay it forward.

On my show today I made an annoucement.  I hyped my “BIG PLAN” all night last night, and all morning today on Twitter.  At 3:09p I revealed it live on the air.  With a representative from the Brantford Food Bank on the air with me, I pledged to donate $1 for every new follower I added on Twitter, up to a total of 1000 followers, or, $1000.  The deadline for the bet between Melissa and I is Wednesday afternoon.  Follow me!

It’s so easy for us to get caught up in our stuff.  Our cars and trucks and boats and motorcycles.  Our full fridges and our overloaded pantries.  Our flatscreen TV’s and surround sound systems and our computers and cell phones.  We busy ourselves so much with all our stuff that we can forget about the real, honest need that is out there.  The need doesn’t exist only in Africa!  It exists in our own backyards!  Times are tough all over the place.

The Brantford Food Bank has seen an overwhelming increase in use in the past couple of months.  Just in June alone 1200 families came to them looking for a helping hand.  Appeals have been put out for help.  They need it.  It’s so easy to do to.  What’s a couple cans of tuna, some soup, a couple of boxes of Kraft Dinner and a loaf of bread going to cost you?  $10?  Do you know how much something so little can mean to a family with unemployed parents due to the recession?

Jesus said whatever you did for the least of these, you did for me.  He doesn’t suggest we help.  He commands we help.  We need to be reminded how blessed we are.  Sometimes, we need a little perspective brought into our lives.  I got it when I bought my new truck.  How can I enjoy something like that, knowing full well that a family in my town won’t eat dinner tonight?

I sound like a World Vision commercial, and you know what.  That’s fine.  I don’t care.  Truth is truth, and that’s all there is to it.  Do with it what you will.  I just hope you’ll help.  And if you don’t live in Brantford, find your own local food bank.  All it takes is one or two extra items the next time you’re in the grocery store.  Every little bit adds up!  Maybe you can’t do $1000 over a silly little bet.  But everybody can do something!

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!

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.

As a self diagnosed over-thinker, I often find myself asking myself a lot of questions that I’ll probably never get the answers to.  Sometimes, I’m not entirely sure if there even are answers to them.  One of these days, perhaps, I’ll just accept that some things simply are, and that is really all the explanation necessary.

I started my day today by asking why in the world morning has to come so early.  More specifically, I was asking why in the world I agreed to participate in an event that would see me getting out of bed at 8a on a Saturday, my day off.  I know what you’re thinking, I’m a whiner.  Everybody gets out of bed at 8a.  OK.  Fair enough.  Give me this much though, I’m an insomniac.  I need to take sleep when I can get it.  I can’t get it, if I’m setting alarm clocks and waking myself up!

It took me nearly an hour to feel like I was even in my body.  After a long shower, face contact with a door frame, a cracked shin on the sharp corner of my bed, and a stubbed toe on my weight bench, which is actually more of a clothes hanging device than it is a weight bench, I was somewhat coherent.

I drove to work and listened to a few of my favorite songs, and tried to get myself pumped.  Well, I tried to get myself awake anyway.  Baby steps, you know.  During the drive, I started asking another question.  Why does it have to rain?

I was on my way to a car wash.  It was a big deal too.  A national event raising money for Cystic Fibrosis research and treatment.  The sponsor, CarStar, was also hoping to set a Guinness World Record by washing 4000 cars, nationally, in 8 hours.  I was going with the radio station to host a 4 hour remote from the location in Brantford.  We were hoping to really hype it up and get lots of people out.  I’m all about raising money for great causes, but as I watched the rain fall from the dark skies above, I wasn’t feeling very good about the event.

When I pulled into the radio station parking lot, I asked another question.  Why did my pager have to go off!  Not 10 seconds after I got into the parking lot, I got a fire call for a possible structure fire.  Any other Saturday and I would have been home for it.  Because I was doing this car wash in the rain, I was missing it!  That is always depressing for me, because I love being a firefighter.  The thing is, it’s kind of hard to be one when you’re missing the call.

So here it was, 9:30 in the morning, and my obsessive question asking, over-thinking habit, had already given me a bad attitude without even realizing it.  Early morning, little sleep, rain – with no end in sight, and now I’m missing a possible structure fire.  I was convincing myself, unintentionally, that today was going to suck.

When I arrived at the event I was introduced to the owners of the location, and met a couple of the people responsible for helping with the event.  A group of students from St. John’s College, and a group of people from Participation House, were giving up their Saturday to volunteer for this event.  They were the ones that would be washing cars in the rain, while I watched from inside.  Suddenly, I was feeling a little convicted about my bad attitude.

As the morning progressed, I witnessed something amazing.  I watched a group of probably 30 people, standing outside in non stop rain, washing cars with smiles on their faces, and genuinely having a great time!  If you can’t beat it, join it, I said during one of my cut-ins on the air.  That’s what these people were doing.  The rain was soaking them anyway, so why not have some fun?  Water fights were happening everywhere.  Water balloons were being tossed, covert attacks were being launched, and the garden hose become a tool for battle domination!

The volunteers were laughing, dancing and singing in the rain.  Not just one or two of them either.  All of them.  They were just having fun!  While I was thinking the event was going to tank because people wouldn’t come and get their car washed in the rain, and as a result, very little money would be raised, they were out there living in the moment.  They were taking control of their circumstances instead of letting their circumstances take control of them.  It was a humbling sight, and a beautiful sight!

I tried as hard as I have ever tried on air today.  I wanted to be great for them.  Because of them!  I wanted to have flawless breaks.  I wanted to paint an accurate picture of this incredible experience that was unfolding before my eyes.  I wanted everybody listening to the radio today to come and see it for themselves, and maybe, just maybe, catch some of the joy that I did.  And you know what?  People did come!  Lots of people.  They honked their horns as they drove by.  They got their cars washed in the rain.  And they ate hamburgers… glorious hamburgers!

When the sun came out 15 minutes before the end of the event, after raining non stop since the morning, most of us just laughed.  When I got in my truck to drive home, I started thinking.  Maybe that sunshine was a smile from God.  Nobody questioned Him for the rain.  Nobody even complained.  They just washed cars, and sang and danced in the rain.  I bet that made Him happy, and I think that’s why He smiled.

I was asked an interesting question the other day.  “If you could have 3 wishes what would they be?”  It’s not an uncommon question I suppose.  No doubt it’s something we’ve all pondered a time or two.  I mean, Aladdin is one of my favorite Disney movies.  It just seemed an odd question at the time.  Far more reaching than an impersonal discussion about the weather or the Blue Jays or the Stanley Cup Finals.

I couldn’t offer an immediate answer.  I decided such a question was too important to simply respond to off the cuff.  Although such an occurrence is unlikely to ever happen, truth be told, I own no lamp for a genie to even inhabit, I wanted to make sure I was prepared with a solid answer.  You know.  Just in case.

After a great deal of thought, and there may or may not have been a list written on paper – I’ll never tell – I decided I had come up with my 3 wishes and 1 solid alternate.  I give them to you now.

I was so excited about getting married.  A wife.  A house.  A dog.  Eventually some kids.  I wanted it all.  I was ready for it all.  I nearly got there.  Then one day a delivery came, and inside the envelope was a notice of divorce.  The dream died that day.  In that moment.  It took a long time before I ever even questioned if it could be possible again.  Some days, I still question it.

My first wish would be for a second chance at love.  I’d wish for a woman that I’d be crazy about today, tomorrow, and everyday we had together until all our days were behind and no more lied ahead.  Together we’d have a house and I’d fix it.  I’d probably yell at it from time to time, and I may even throw things at it on occasion, though when nobody was watching, but it would be our house.  Our home.  We’d fill it with a dog and children, and possibly some fish.  I dare not say how many children though.  God has a funny way about these things.  Tell Him you want 1 and the next thing you know you’re expecting triplets.  I just want kids.  I’ll take however many He’s willing to give.

A wish, or one day a reality?  Either way, I hold onto this one with great hope.

Since I was about 10 years old, or at least, somewhere in the general vicinity of that age, I’ve dreamed about being on the radio.  The soft glow of the digital display on my Sanyo stereo was a constant companion to me.  It sat on a shelf hung right at the head of my bed.  The speakers were tucked away neatly inside the headboard, and played all my favorite songs right into the back of my pillow as I lay dreaming.

I remember making my own “radio station” with an old tape recorder.  I’d mix the songs together, and record intros and weather forecasts for them in between.  Even at that young age I seemingly understood that half my future career in radio would be giving weather reports!  I bet if I looked hard enough, one or two of those tapes may still exist somewhere.

Since those days of my childhood, creating my own radio stations, I’ve had a dream that one day I’d do it for real.  I had visions of programming a great Christian radio station.  I still have those same visions, although they’ve morphed over the years as my skill and knowledge has developed.  My dream now involves creating a station like no other, and using it as a model to build a network of stations right across the country.  That, however, is another blog for another day.

My second wish, would be for this dream to come true.  It would be that somehow, God would bring me the resources I needed to make this dream a reality.  That would be an incredible wish!

Firefighters only save people in the movies.  OK, so that’s not really true.  It seems it though.  I’ve watched Backdraft and Ladder 49 hundreds of times probably.  I’ve just never done anything like they do in those movies.  10 years on the fire department.  No saves.  Sure I’ve gone into burning buildings, and I’ve extricated people from the wreckage of an M.V.C. but I’ve never had a save.

Truth be told, I’ve mostly experienced loss.  I don’t know a worse or more helpless feeling than watching the final grains of sand trickle through the hourglass of life while your hands are doing compressions on a persons chest.  It’s an awful feeling.

I keep answering the call though.  No matter the loss.  No matter the emotional stress.  I will keep answering the call.  The next one might be the one, I tell myself.  Not because I have a hero complex.  You just do it because you know you might be able to help someone.  That is motivation enough.  That is why I joined the fire department in the first place.

My third wish would be to make a save.  One save.  To race through a house, flames licking at my heels, heat wrapping around my body and squeezing the life out it, seeing the safe exit, a whole different world just on the other side of that door.  When I rush through it, into a different kind of light, the inviting light of sun versus the threatening light of flame, I emerge with a child pulled tighly to my body, protected by my arms, safe in my hands.

I wish for the chance to replace all the memories of the ones I couldn’t save, with just one that I did.

Finally, an alternate.  In the event that any of my 3 above wishes should come true before I am extended the chance to make 3 wishes, I thought it prudent to have a contingency wish.  The proverbial back-up plan.  This one, I shall spare detail as it will only cause embarrasment and ridicule.  Not that I’m ashamed of it mind you.  Just that I know others will find it amusing.  Simply put… I’d wish for the chance to be a bass singer in a Southern Gospel Quartet and share the stage with the likes of Ernie Haase and Signature Sound or the Gaither Vocal Band.  An unusual desire perhaps, but one that is shared with sincerity equal to the rest!

There are a lot of things about being a Firefighter that are tough.  Without much thought or imagination I’m sure you could come up with a list as long as your arm.  You don’t need to do the job to understand the pressure, the danger, the challenges.

Physical, mental, emotional.  They are all there.  Walk around with an SCBA on for an hour or two, and your shoulders start to tense up and your back begins to ache, I don’t care how fit you are.  Stand in front of a roaring fire for 20 minutes and you feel like your body is burning inside a swimming pool.  It’s an odd sensation.  You’re soaked to the bone inside your gear from sweat, but at the same time you feel like you’re on fire yourself.

From time to time on the Fire Department, you’re going to see things that nobody should ever have to see.  It will often come in the form a motor vehicle collision, but not always.  Images that burn into your head like a photograph taken with the camera of your mind.  They never really go away.  One night you close your eyes, and the images will just appear, like they’ve been recorded on the backs of your eyelids.

Death is part of the job.  You don’t really realize how much until you’ve done it for a while.  That brings with it a whole different dynamic of stress.  You’ll be questioning if there is more you could have done, or something you could have done differently.  At the same time, you can find yourself trying to comfort a family member who is now in an emotional spiral set into motion by their loss.

I can’t stand sleeping with my socks on.  If my feet are too warm, I simply don’t sleep.  I like to sleep with my socks off, and my feet outside the covers to stay cool.  If my feet are cool, my sleep is sound.  If my feet are warm, there is either no sleep or restless sleep.

When I get woke up in the middle of the night to the pager, I’m completely incoherent for at least a minute or so.  I sometimes don’t know who I am, where I am, and what that infernal beeping is that’s waking me up.  Yet, instinctively, I always find myself getting dressed.  Usually about the time I’m pulling my t-shirt over my head, I have figured out what’s going on.

No matter how hard I try, there is one thing I struggle with more than anything during middle of the night fire calls.  My socks!  I can never seem to put my socks on when I’m woke from a deep sleep.  Pants are easy.  The holes are bigger.  Shirts, same deal, though I’ve stuck my head through a sleeve a time or two.  Socks though, I just can’t get.

Believe it or not, there was an incident once that involved a rather painful tumble down the stairs because of my socks.  I don’t know exactly what I was doing, but apparently I was trying to put my socks on while heading down the stairs.  It didn’t work out so well for me.  I told you… it takes me a bit to wake up!

One of the toughest things for me since then, is adapting to a life that involves sleeping with my socks on.  It just seems to be a safer alternative.  It also makes me appreciate nights out of town that much more because they are the only nights I can sleep sock free!

I don’t have children, though, I’ve had limited experience with them.  Mostly, it’s been through the fire department.  At my old station, I used to love doing fire prevention events with the kids.  It reminded me of what I was like when I was a kid, always wanting to be on the fire truck or wearing the equipment.

During these various functions I learned that for kids, there are no answers, there are only questions.  “What’s this?” “It’s a fire hose.”  “What does it do?”  “It sprays the water.”  “Where does the water come from?”  “It comes from the fire truck.”  “How does it come from the fire truck?”

No matter the number of answers you would give, a child always seems to have an uncanny ability to find, yet another question!  They just don’t seem to be content with an answer.  They always need, and want, to know more.

I find myself at an interesting point in my life.  At 30, I have acheived both personal and professional dreams, and, sadly, I’ve seen them both fade away.  Often, I have to stop and remind myself that I am only 30 and it’s OK.  I sometimes forget that I started my career at 17.  Having not achieved everything by 30 doesn’t mean I’m a failure, as many people are only getting started at 30.  It comes as little consolation to me at times, but I remind myself of it nevertheless.

I haven’t blogged much this week, perhaps you’ve noticed.  I hadn’t hardly missed a day since I started this back in January, but this week I’ve definitely been slacking.  The reason for that is because I’ve been spending a lot of time looking for answers.

I don’t mean to sound like I’m at some major crossroads, though, I’m not ruling that out.  I would like to believe that I am still too young to be experiencing a mid-life crisis, though, I’d certainly see a sports car as a solution to at least one or two of my problems.  But I’ve definitely been taking some time to look for answers.

The harder I looked for answers this week, the more I kept remembering those fire prevention experiences.  I’d get an image in my mind of a child, standing tip-toed to cross the three foot mark.  He was standing in my bunker pants, my boots nearly as long as his legs.  The bright red suspenders are pulled up over his shoulders, though even they can’t keep the pants hiked up on his tiny little frame.  He throws my coat on and can’t even get his hands to come out the ends of the sleeves.  When he places my helmet on his head, it swallows him.  Somewhere, inside the yellow dome is the face of a child.  He attempts to walk, but with each step the weight of the gear nearly sends him toppling to the ground.  He pays it no mind.  He’s a firefighter, if only in make believe.  As he tries to wade around the sea of grass and snaking lines of fire hose, he asks questions.  With each answer comes a new question.  There is no end until time dictates that we pack the trucks and head for home.

This week one question has come into my head more than any other.  Are there answers?  That’s what I’ve been reflecting on, tossing it back and forth in my mind over and over.  Is life about answers, or is it just about a journey filled with questions?  Are we on a quest to a destination of absolute?  Or are we moving through a sea of questions, the complexity of which are like the waves.  Some bigger.  Some stronger.  Some smaller.  Some easier.

A child is seldom content to rest when an aswer has been offered.  They keep pressing, searching, wondering.  Could this be what Jesus was referring to when he spoke of child-like faith?  Perhaps the point is not to find or know the answers.  Maybe I’m supposed to just have faith in the journey, with each question being another dot on my map.