When You are Brothers, You are Never Alone

It's 3:30 in the morning and I can't sleep.  I'm like a anxious kid waiting to go on vacation to Disneyland.  Larrieann and I are headed to Sunriver in the morning to visit my good friend Lauren and his wife Ellen.  He moved away after retiring some years ago and frankly my life has not been the same without him around.  Rather then to continue tossing and turning in bed disturbing Larrieann I decided to slip to the computer and noticed this is my 100th blog entry.  After reading back through some of my fire stories I could see how the unwitting reader might begin to think that billy blaze must have been the only firefighter that poor little volunteer fire department had involved in it. 

I can assure you if you are having that thought about me it could be no further from the truth.  Yes, often times I have been the stone attached to the leading edge of an arrow shaft.  But we all know it takes a fine craftsmen (training officer) putting all the parts of an arrow together properly to make a wooden stick fly straight to it's target.  A fire training officer picks a straight stick and then begins slowly chipping a raw obsidian stone into a sharpened arrowhead.  After some effort he carefully attaches it to the slotted arrow shaft holding it in place with sinew and then he decorates the back of the shaft with feathers to make all the parts work together so it will fly straight.

I can fervently remember looking back across the swollen Illinois River during my big river rescue several years ago, seeing the five firefighters in a row poised sternly, leaning hard against my weight while not letting me get swept down the raging river.  I couldn't tell you who a single one of them was today but they were just as much apart of that rescue that day as any roll I played in it. 

Seeing pictures a couple days after a nighttime steep angle rescue we had several months ago I was amazed by what I saw.  Yes, I was one of the firefighters being dangled over the edge like live bait but the fifteen firefighters dug in on top, trying to find traction on that slick road were the real hero's in my mind that night.  They literally held all our lives over the cliff in their gloved hands.

I have got to fight fire with lots of folks over the years but there are a few guys and gals that stand out in my mind.  Darren, big hulk of a man, drives a semi hauling bread up and down I-5.  I loved having him on the attack line with me, especially when he was in front of me.  I can remember him nervously one time turning to me during one of our roaring house fires and mumbling through his breathing apparatus to me "shouldn't we put some more of this out before advancing?  It's getting hot up here", as I've got my hand firmly placed in the middle of his back pushing him towards the seat of the fire.  I was feeling no effect from the heat standing in the shadow of this man. 

Netta, I can't think of another paramedic I would rather work with when the "shit has hit the fan" at some accident scene.  Calm and decisive under pressure though she does cry too easily afterwards which makes it harder for me to keep my rough tuff side showing.

Rudy the best tender (water tanker) operator of all times.  Hearing crackle over my portable radio a stern message from fire command.  "Tell that Damn Guy from I.V. (Rudy operating the tender) to SLOW DOWN!."  We were fighting this huge mill fire over in Rogue River where all the water had to be shipped to us from town a mile away.  We were spraying thousands of gallons of water per minute and it all had to be hauled to us using a round robin of tenders converging from all over the surrounding counties. It wasn't a half hour later that the meek fire commanders voice came back over the air, "tell that guy from I.V. to pick it back up again".  Rudy was the only one out there that day keeping his dump tank full.  We laughed and laughed about that on the fire ground, as we could hear Rudy again shifting through the many gears on that big truck pulling everything that rig had from it that day.

The point being ninety nine times out of a hundred none of my fire adventures were ever accomplished alone.  The one thing I enjoy most about being a fireman is the camaraderie.  I know that if I were trapped in a burning building that firefighters from adjoining towns, counties, across Oregon and the west coast would keep coming to my aid till either they got me out or there was nothing left but a deep black smoldering hole.  And then they would still be standing there looking into the abyss just by chance that I would crawl back over the edge so they could help me stand and brush me off.  That's what being a fireman is all about the camaraderie towards each other and our communities.

I sure wish Larrieann would wake-up so we could leave, 6 o-clock in the morning...

Scars on the Heart

I have struggled for some time not knowing if this next story would be appropriate to write about due to it's raw graphic nature.  My mom wrote a few comments back, about people she knows who are following along with my blog. She writes, "...for some it reminds them of their own days in Emergency Service and to others it has opened there eyes to the behind the scene happenings and feelings that remain."  Please don't misjudge me, for my 30 year fire career has been spent at a very small volunteer department and now at a only slightly bigger paid department.  I have not witnessed or had to deal with the tragedy that my brothers had to endure when the towers fell in N.Y. or resolve the horror when some large aircraft smashes into the earth.  As a typical fireman's life goes I have lived a sheltered life.  Most guys in the big city fire departments, due to the large call volume they respond to have seen and been left with far deeper wounds then I carry.  I worry that I will not be able to convey the sadness and emotion to my readers that I felt that fateful night along another chunk of lonely country road, aptly named Lone Mountain Road.  Even as I sit here gathering my thoughts for the story I can feel my throat tightening, my lips pursing and moisture coming to my eyes...

...it was on a night not to different to the one we are having tonight.  A deeply dark, very foggy and near freezing night when I stepped onto the accident scene.  Seeing a mans limp body laying in the middle of the two lane road, not moving and a overturned ATV a few feet away would peak almost anyone's interest.  But what the hell is that screaming?  In my life I have never heard that kind of pain coming from any human being as my eyes scanned for the source of the blood curdling screaming coming from a short distance out in the woods.  Pointing to my comrades to address the mans injuries I went to find out what the hell was going on in the even darker forest. 

Shinning my Streamlite towards the noise and commotion at first I thought my eyes were seeing things or in this case not seeing things, as I fought through the thick underbrush creeping ever closer to the sound I was horrified to see...  I had always thought that some injuries would be so devastating to a body that the victim would just immediately die relieving them from the pain associated with such an injury, but life is not that way and sometimes death does not arrive easy.  The other thing that aids firemen when they arrive on a scene is we most often times don't know who is to blame for the carnage so we just go about helping to resolve it.  I am so thankful for not knowing all the details until later that cold night because I most likely would have crawled back through the brush an kicked the shit out of the "drunk" guy laying in the road.

...it was a horse screaming in unimaginable pain.  The drunk guy zooming up and down the road on an ATV, in the dark had spooked the horse from it's pasture and then proceeded to run into it, not seeing it in the thick fog and darkness.  The impact of the vehicle hitting the horse had torn the whole hind quarters from the animal at the hip.  I had never seen a wound so massive.  As the horse would fall an then fight to re-stand while missing it's rear leg.  All the time screaming in terror and pain.  I have dealt with hundreds of injured people and no matter how horrific their injuries are you can still console, comfort and offer them hope of recovery, plus the ambulance carries some pretty good drugs to help manage the pain, for people.  This animal needed to be put down and right now.

We couldn't find the horses owner, the Sheriff couldn't shoot it without the owners consent, the neighbors didn't want to take the responsibility of trying to shoot this animal that was thrashing through the woods and a large animal vet was an hour away.  With help I finally managed to get him lashed to a tree so he could stand on his three remaining legs easier.  He was wearing some kind of halter and I would hold onto it as he would physically lift me off the ground as I tried to comfort him.  I am no horse whisperer but he finally laid his head on my shoulder as he became so exhausted and just roared his discomfort through his nose.  I watched as the steam rose into the night air from his beautiful body and I at that moment I could feel him bond to me and my voice as he pressed harder on my shoulder with his massive head.   He knew that I was the only pain relief he was going to get that cold dark night.  Eventually someone did come and finally put him down as I snuck away behind the engine and cried.

The next time you are out enjoying a evening and maybe have had to many drinks I hope this story can wedge back into your mind possibly saving tragedy for yourself or other innocents.  Please remember too, next time your local fire department levy comes up for a vote, that these guys and gals often have to deal with the undealable.  We are often left with deep personal scars while serving in our own local community. SUPPORT THEM.  Whether they are from a paid or volunteer fire department.

Good Bye Old Friend

Well, I have come to the sad conclusion that it is time for my old, paint peeling, van to go away. The guys at the fire department tease me that it looks like a "Chester Molester" van.  The creepy old van, with the curtains drawn, that drives down your street and your mom warns you as children not to go around.  It is no longer a dependable ride for me since it quits running sporadically when I'm driving down the road. Coasting to a stop along the freeway is sometimes a hair raising adventure as you dodge thru traffic trying to reach the safe side of the road. So far the engine has always started right back up again.  But not being a mechanic myself and after spending several hundred dollars already at a couple different mechanic shops we have not been able to resolve the problem. I have had a window van during most of my adult life. All through the years the van has carried my kids and their many friends, along with all their necessities, to Beaver Hollow hundreds of times. My van has served as sort of my support vehicle through all these many past years adventures. Loaded down with my 2 fire gear bags, a swift water rescue bag, a search and rescue gear bag, change of fresh dry cloths bag, plus the different bikes I rode, snow shoes and other paraphernalia I have stored under the seats. Jammed under the seats was food, water, tents, and a first aid kit along with a spare tire and jack. When I got tired I could move enough stuff around to clear a place on the back bed for myself and my ever present dog and still have room to take a nap, semi comfortably. A few years ago when I still lived in Cave Junction I was setting at my house, minding my own business...


...11:00 at night I was slowly drifting off, watching some T.V. before bed when I noticed the brake lights on my van flicker on through the window. My van was always parked out front, facing towards the fire station, faithfully waiting for a fire call to come in. I get to the front porch just in time to see my van lurching out my gravel driveway throwing stones at me as it sped away. Now here I have this reputation of being this "ruthless Baxter" of a fireman and all I can verbalize during the commotion was "hey", "HEY" with my hand waving in the air as my van speeds out my own driveway and heads up Caves Highway. My Grandma would have been so disappointed in me if she knew that I didn't get a least one "You Dirty Bastard" in before the vehicle left my property. Immediately I jumped in my spare ride and headed out the driveway in hot pursuit. Or as hot a pursuit as an old Forest Service colored Ford Ranger could pursue. Back in the day the old van still had some zip left in her and she quickly left me in the dust.

Stolen, some "sumbitch" just stole my precious van with all her cargo in it. In my mind I was still living in the age where you didn't even lock your house. Hell, leaving my van keys on the floor next to the drivers seat was common place me. For when that quick get-away was needed when the emergency call came down. I had given up running the block to the fire station a few years earlier. When I noticed after trying to climb into the drivers seat of the fire engine I couldn't speak on the radio for a few minutes because I was too out of breath from the exertion. For a moment I paused there along the road looking up the highway urning for my van, somewhat bewildered, now who do you call when you have an EMERGENCY? ...  Oh yeah 911.

A few days go by, everybody in the valley that we knew was on the lookout for my stolen old van. Fire guys, telephone repairmen, my mom's friends, guys I worked with at the mill.  I think the cops were even aware it was gone too. Out of the blue I get this call from the Illinois Valley High School office. I say, Hello? "Bill why is your van parked out on our football field", the kind voice on the other end conveys. Ahhh? "My van is parked on your football field?  How long has it been there?" I manage to mutter.  Ohh two, maybe three days the receptionist replies. As I dart out of the house leaving the phone still dangling from the cord and head that way in my now trusty, nobody even wants to steal, Ford Ranger. Of coarse everything was missing from inside the old girl, fuel was all gone too, a few things were broken inside side but ahhh "I got you back baby"  My homeowners insurance covered most of my loses but I have never since owned as nice of a mountain bike (Interloc) as I lost that horrible night.

I’m going to miss not having the old girl around. $500 or the best offer. She has served me very well, at least to this point.  We'll see if the new travel trailer serves me as well.  I know it's harder to turn around for sure.

2011, Here Comes billy blaze

As the New Year of 2011 begins to settle over us I always tend to look back at my accomplishments and failures over the past year.  During these difficult financial times stretching across America I feel very fortunate to have a stable, secure feeling job, even if it is working with pooh.  I always grin when my little west coast granddaughter chides in that grandpa works at the stinky pooh plant and holds her nose with her fingers.

I'm not sure if it's because I'm getting older and slowing down a bit or if I'm getting lazy.  I never climbed to the top of any mountain peak this past summer which is a new non-adventure for me.  I always have climbed at least one per summer before.  Maybe it's because I was too darn busy building a tree house for the kids and enjoying when Erica and Van brought Ka'mya to visit Oregon.  In actuality it's probably the fact that my knees hurt so bad for a week after I climb one of those Cascade mountain peaks that it's getting harder to motivate myself too feel the pain (wuss).  I didn't go snowshoeing at Crater Lake either, which is really odd being that Crater Lake is my favorite place to tromp around summer or winter.  It's hard to get there in the winter time since we no longer have the 4 wheel drive jeep to dash through the snow in.

Larrieann and I did go out and purchase a travel trailer the day after we spent a very uncomfortable night sleeping in the bed of my pickup, with Styker laying on top of us, when we went on our annual waterfall weekend hike this last summer.  I have enjoyed pulling it over to the coast where we were amazed watching the bull elk fight during their rutting / mating season. Having the west coast grand kids join us on beach combing weekends has been an adventure.  I never thought a kid could carry so much sand on their little body before coming inside a trailer.  I had a great time when we invited my son and his family, Larrieann's son and his family to the coast for a weekend stay.  I think Larrieann and I are going to make that outing an annual event.  It was enjoyable watching all the kids play on the beach, flying kites and building sand castles together.  It was a interesting adventure breaking into Micheal's car when he locked his only set of keys in it too.  Normally I have a big red truck with the Jaws of Life in it, to help me when I'm braking into cars.  Using a crudely fashioned device made of wire marshmallow skewers to gain access is tough on a rip and tear fireman.

Failures;  I failed to go to fire training as often as I know I should have.  Because even after all the years in the fire service I still don't know it all and I know training is the key to performing well on scene.  I failed to go to Search and Rescue training as often as I should have.  Because I play fireman on the weekends when the SAR trainings are happening.  I failed to loose any weight or eat any better this past year.  Though I was able to loose some more hair from my balding head but not enough to show any weight lose.

The thing that plagued me most about this past year was not getting to spend more time with my east coast granddaughter, Ka'mya.  I got to spend almost a week with her when Erica came west but that wasn't enough time for me.  Here I am suppose to be this macho fireman that can look at any crushed and mangled car and immediately figure a way to free a trapped family from the carnage, and here I can't even figure out how to spend more time with my own granddaughter.  I can't move east because I'm way too rooted out west.  They can't move here because they have family there that would miss them if they moved west.  I can't afford to fly to Maryland much more then once a year so here I sit brooding.  I can't wait till Ka'mya is old enough to have her own tree house.  Because I know a fire guy who is going to travel east and build one just for her someday.

I have a few more stories to tell this coming year before I run out of them and have to start making up real lies.  I hope everyone who is following along on the mis-adventures of billy blaze has a safe and profitable new year.

Life is a Roulette Wheel

Larrieann and I just got back from the JoCoSAR Christmas party where we were entertained with a raffle for some items local businesses had donated to SAR.  As the winning ticket numbers were being called out it reminded me of another raffle I was involved in many years ago while attending the annul OVFA (Oregon Volunteer Firefighters Association) Conference...

...after the fire training classes held during the daytime hours were over this particular years conference, held in Coos Bay, offered the firefighters attending from across Oregon a Casino Night, for the evenings fund raising entertainment.  I have never been a gambler type with my money but I joined in with the casino activities anyway because they were raising money for a worthwhile cause I fully support, the Shriner's Children's Hospital (burn ward).  After I purchased my poker chips for the evenings festivities I stepped out into the gambling arena.  The fire guys at Coos Bay had done a great job in decorating the casino up, it looked just like I had seen in the movies.  At this point in my life I had not yet traveled to Las Vegas or Reno to blow any of my hard earned cash before.

Not knowing how to play any of the gambling games I stepped over to the one that had nobody presently crowding around it.  It was the game with the "rollie wheel" thing.  How hard could it be to call out a number, roll a marble around, have it jump and skip a few times before landing in a slot with a red or black number in it and wait for the wheel to come to a stop?  I figured the quicker I lost my poker chips the faster those kids at the burn hospital would get my money.  I placed all my chips onto the table, cleared my throat and proudly announced "Red 21".  Red for the color of my fire engine and I had seen in a movie once that 21 was suppose to be a lucky number.  The female croupier at the wheel looked at me some what dumbfounded and asked me "are you sure".  I just calmly nodded back at her because I thought that would look cooler then saying I didn't know what I was doing.  So she gave the wheel, later I found out it was called a Roulette Wheel, a big spin.  A marble shoots in the opposite direction the wheel is spinning and I stand there waiting for my number not to be called so those poor burned children could begin receiving the medical care they desperately needed.  Finally as the wheel slows the marble jumps, bounces and skips before landing in a numbered slot.  I'll be damn if it didn't end up in "Red 21" where my hostess yells "WINNER" from her gambling station.  I am horrified.  I have just won money away from small burned children, as a crowd of firefighters and their wives begin to mill towards my wheel.  Desperately I look around, clear my voice again and in the deepest cowboy voice I could muster I say "Let her Ride".  I had heard that line in some John Wayne movie once and I always thought he was pretty smooth as I pushed my initial bet and winnings into the middle of the table.   Again my cheerful hostess asks, "Sir are you sure?"  To which I tipped my hat and said "Yep" but in a clever deep voice. 

By now a crowd had assembled around me watching as this crazy ass firefighting cowboy purposely tries to lose his pokers chips so unfortunate children in a hospital far away could receive the life saving medical treatment they needed.  The big wheel spins again, as a shush comes over the crowd.  With a jump, bounce, skip, the whole crowd erupts this time with "WINNER" as the wheel slows to a stop with the marble firmly lodged, again, in slot Red 21.  With the new winnings added the pile of chips heaped upon the table was enormous.

About then Larrieann saunters over to where a huge crowd had developed around me.  She asks "Bill, what's going on?"  I am almost in tears by now because I am stealing money from these poor burned children.  I told her what had just happened.  She gives me one of those looks like, "are you SH**ing me".  To where she begins to explain the rules of Casino Night to me.  Buy poker chips to use while gambling, turn your winnings in later for raffle tickets, where random raffle numbers would be called for gifts lining several tables along the side of the auditorium.

I had wondered what all the stuff on those tables was for. Lets just say it took several poker chip trays to carry away my winnings that night, several tables had to be cleared to line rows and rows of raffle tickets out on and my whole gang of fellow firefighters from I.V. to help find our winning numbers when announced.  Everybody went home with some great prizes that night, and the Shriner's Burn Center won big too.

Have an Adventuresome Christmas

Fortunately when I moved into Grants Pass seven years ago I knew many of the firefighters at the new fire station I joined. I had actually helped train many of them to become firefighters when they were still kids, before they too moved away from my old rural community in Cave Junction. Everyone at the new station welcomed me with open arms and big pats on the back, except this one young guy nicknamed (Buttercup).  One day he came up to me and said “I’ve heard a lot about you". Continuing, he said “I’m going to kick your ass and leave you in the dust on the next fire”. I had to laugh at him because first I’m more of an “actions speak louder then words” kind of guy and also how could you take a guy with a nickname like “Buttercup” very seriously anyway...

Last winter Southern Oregon was suffering from one of the worst cold spells to hit our area in 25 years. The local roads literally had two inches of ice on them making them almost impassable even with traction devices on. Since it was just a few days before Christmas, even though the weather outside was frightful, like in the song, the adventurous were still scouring the surrounding mountains forests looking for that perfect Christmas tree when disaster struck. A family of five was returning home in the late afternoon, after a day with friends cutting down a Christmas tree. Their car skidded off a cliff on a remote icy mountain road. All the local fire departments, Search and Rescue, ambulance crews and the Sheriffs department responded to assist in the rescue...

For many years now my feet have had to fit into several different pair of work boots at the same time. Currently I am a member of JoCo SAR. On weekends I pull shifts with Rural Metro Fire. I work periodically with the fire boys at G.P. Fire and am a 23 year, past veteran of I.V. Fire, before Larrieann and I moved into Grants Pass to undertake a new job with the City of Grants Pass. My take on the tragic event on Shan Creek are my own thoughts and should not be considered an official statement by any of the aforementioned agencies. I am keenly aware that the victims’ family may read my blog someday. My hope is that if they do read my comments on the events that unraveled that night they will find comfort that everything possible was done to save their dad / husband.

After G.P. Fire shuttled the first load of rescuers and gear to the scene we began preparing for the descent. While I have been in the steep angle business for many years now I have never been one of the people left on top to assemble all the rigging. While I am aware of what rigging needs to be assembled, I am not particularly good at actually assembling it. When the word comes from command “who’s going over” I just always step forward because I know I can do more good down there…

…as Netti, Ben (soon to be called “Thing 1”, (because we ended up with 3 different Ben’s in the dark, on the side of the cliff that night) and myself latched into the stokes stretcher rails, pulling the chin straps on our helmets tight, we headed over the embankment. One of my R.M. fire "buddies" (Buttercup) had arrived at the scene earlier in the evening because he probably is the only person in the county who drives a 4 x 4 who could have gotten up that old road without chaining up first. He had already gone over the edge and was beginning to feed us spotty information from his portable radio. Being the first team over the edge “Rescue 1” we started our decent. It wasn’t too bad for the first 40 feet, while using just the light provided by our headlamps to proceed. Quickly we came to the cliff. Netta said “HOLD”. With her lamp shining brightly in my eyes she looks at me and in a calm voice informs me, “Blaze, we’re not in Kansas anymore”.  I began wondering how (Buttercup) had gotten down this fricking cliff when I noticed a tie down ratchet strap attached to a tree next to my feet with the end thrown over into the oblivion. At this time I did not know Ben (Thing 2, a family friend) had tied this conglomeration together trying to reach his injured friends below. If I did know that “Thing 2” had tied this mess I never would have done what I did next…

A rigging change needed to be made on top because of the new found dilemma (the sheer 100 foot cliff) and it was going to take a few minutes to set up. "Rescue 1" waited in the near total darkness listening to the family’s cries for help, still very far below us. Still thinking Engineer Buttercup had tied this self imposed decent line I told Netti “I have to go”. She just looked at me again and said “I know Bill, please be careful”. As I unsnapped from the basket, and down the tow strap, out of sight I slid. All I will say about this part of my evening is it was not OSHA approved. Finally meeting my new nemesis (Buttercup) at the bottom of the cliff he lined me out to where all the patients were plastered to the side of the mountain. As soon as I reached the family, I began doing what we are trained to do; patient assessment and helping re-adjust some of their positions to help them feel safer where they had came to rest on the side of that mountain. It wasn’t long before the rest of Rescue 1 had rejoined me and we began packaging mom and the young boy for their trip back to the relative safety of that slick logging road they had fallen off a couple hours earlier.

I have seen written where those of us over the edge that night were being called heroes. I have never claimed to be a hero before and still don’t think even after this arduous night, any of us rescuers are heroes still. We are all trained to do what we do. We learn how to fight back our personal fears and continue. I had personal heroes that night though. One of my heroes was the mom, for keeping her brood from any further injury while plastered to the side of that cold mountain waiting for the Calvary to arrive. She begged us not to take her on the first lift because she did not want to leave her two other children. We had to forcefully explain to her, your small son needs you most right now, so she allowed us to strap her and him into the basket for the journey aloft. Another hero of mine that evening was the teenage girl, hurt, cold, scared, holding the smaller sister in her lap she begged us to go help daddy, 200 feet farther down the steep mountain side. Leaving her in the darkness with just the dome light from the inside of the car slowly fading, I looked back and asked “Honey, are you going to be ok?” She just said “Please go help my dad” as Netti and I slide away over the mountain farther.

We now had slid so far down that mountain (550 feet) we couldn’t slide anymore because we were standing beside the iced over, Shan Creek. That’s where I met Ben “Thing 2” another of my heroes that night, personally for the first time. He was holding the dad trying to keep him as warm as he could under the circumstances, reminding him to hold on and not fall asleep, using his own body to deflect the rocks that were knocked loose periodically from above. He had sustained a pretty good lump to the back of his own head while shielding the dad. After quite a wait, G.P fireman, Ben, “Thing 3” arrived with the basket. The children’s father succumbed to his injuries as he was packaged for his trip to heaven…

…as we were pulled back up the mountain 200 feet to where the car crash was located, Netti and I peeled off to rejoin the two girls whom were by then sleeping and being held warmly in the arms of their two new best friends, Mr. G. and Thing 1. The Ben from below had helped carry our gear back to the crash site. He took the sleeping little girl in his arms already knowing he would be playing a different role in her life from now on. The rest of us quietly hunkered down awaiting the final lift for the two smaller girls because we too knew our lives will have changed after this experience that night. With the girl’s harnesses on, strapped in, away they went with Netti and with someone else, but I had lost track by now. Not wanting to wait for another shuttle to arrive, the remaining rescue members and Thing #2 began the hard steep walk out around the base of the cliff, back to the road carrying all the medical gear. I literally crawled onto the ice skating rink surface of the road at sometime around two in the morning, seven hours after we first descended over the bank.

...in the several days following the rescue we received several short notes thanking all of us for our efforts that extremely cold night. The compliment I most enjoyed hearing came to me in private though. Seeing Buttercup at the fire station a few days later he too admitted to me that “it was sure nice to see your ugly mug that night”, when I crawled down over that cliff to help him. After hearing that statement from Buttercup I slept very well indeed that evening.

Venture out and find a beautiful Christmas tree this holiday season. But please stay safe for all us rescuers this year.

My Lies Reaching around the World

Blog hits from around the world...

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The billy blaze blog stats show my misadventures are being followed from around the world.  I don't think I know anybody personally from the Czech Republic so I hope they understand my American humor.  All I need to find now is somebody who would like to help me publish a book.  We'll start with an English version first.

I recently ran into my long time firefighting buddy "Hollywood".  He went off on me about only having one story about him on my blog so far.  I told him "dude go write your own damn blog, this one's all about me".  No...  Hollywood and my mom have reminded me of some more stories I had forgotten about, which will follow once the holiday season slows down.  I have heard some of my long lost fire buddies are following along on my blog also. Just flash me an e-mail and I'd be happy to add your stories too.  Of coarse my version will make me look taller and more handsome then your version of the same story might.

Safe Holidays Everybody