I don’t think I ever had a vertical leap of forty inches, but I sure as hell don’t have one today: at sixtyish years old with sixtyish pounds of firefighting gear on. The back of the still-smoking semi-trailer brought to a halt by fire on I-90 is open, and the Arlington chief wants us to go in to...
Aug
24
Still Life
I was admonished. Riding in back with Maeve, rear-facing and buckled into her car seat, Amanda requested I keep the frivolity at a level compatible with Maeve’s temporary state of digestive certitude. Which meant small giggles and smiles were ok, but not the hilarity of last night’s physical...
Jul
08
Rockets’ Red Glare
Three minutes out, we’re twenty minutes late. In the waning hour of the nation’s 250th birthday party, we’re screaming westward in Engine 31. Mitch, our best driver, is at the wheel. Zach, one of our two quite excellent captains, is in command. In back, Lt. Jason and newly minted Firefighter of...