OSHA be damned

1975

I grew up back in the day and age when there was no nanny state. The government was not the type to interfere with you and the pursuit of happiness even if it was unhealthy for you. I had lead based paint on the window sill. I played with firecrackers. I shot BB guns. I rode in cars without wearing seat belts. Amazingly somehow I survived all of it too. Tonight’s memory is from back in those days. Back when there only two types of smokers, the ones that smoked and the second hand smokers because even the grocery store allowed its patrons to smoke while shopping.

                I know by publishing this that someone might think that my parents were insane, and quite possibly it is true about the as well. I grew up with my father being involved in a volunteer fire department. We spent most of our weekends cleaning fire rigs. We would plan our holidays around the fire department. Valentines, Easter, Fourth of July, Halloween, but the most fun was Christmas.  It seemed we would have a Christmas party every three days during the season. Parties for the adults, parties for kids, parties for party’s sake, and reason really. The fire chief and his wife lived for it. They were the embodiment of the Christmas spirit. We would have a part to trim the tree for the fire house. We would have a Santa’s Shelves rummage sale to raise funds for the fire department. We would have an indoor pancake breakfasts. We would have dances; the fire department built my sense of community.

                Back be for organizations like OSHA, there were things we did that would not fly in the world in which we live now. One thing came to mind tonight as I was readying myself for work. It was the memory of a Christmas Eve tradition that seemed simple and blissful. Back then on Christmas Eve we would load up the fire engines with the families of the fire fighters and drive around the neighborhoods of our town Christmas caroling. The chief’s wife would make up the caroling books, and we would practice a few times, before the magical night, and then we were set. The chief would dress in a Santa suit and he would ride on top of the engine tossing out candy canes to the girls and boys who came out to listen. We lived in California and the chances were that it was chilly but not too cold on Christmas, so we usually would have people meet us at the street with hot chocolate or whatever goodies they had for us. The adults would get egg nog with extra nog to fortify them against the chill, or as my father put it a Hot Toddy for the body.

                Though the town we lived in was small this was a couple of hours committed to enriching the community. After we finished our rounds caroling we would return to the fire department and the party would continue at the department in the recreation room with a fire in the fireplace near the Christmas tree, and on the other side of the recreation room there was a full scale bar for the adults. My father became well known for his bartending skills after the first few parties with the department. He would usually man the bar and serve whatever drink they wanted with skill. We would sing our carols again. The chief’s wife would make hot chocolate for the kids. Before too long fire fighter families would adjourn to their homes to have their family Christmas celebrations. My father being best friends with the chief would be the last to leave, which meant a late night for us at the firehouse. My brother and I would usually fall asleep on the couches in front of the fire place while my parents and the chief and his wife would clean up the mess after the festivities.

                We would be awakened when it was time to go home and then put back to bed after we arrived at home just as quickly. Christmas morning usually was later than the normal family’s because we would be tired from the previous night’s celebration. I remember a couple of early Christmas morning but usually we slept. This is what I feel has shaped me as a poet, and person. I eventually went on to do two years as a volunteer fire fighter myself, and I have a good sense of community when it comes to my involvement in poetic projects as well. I wish that I had gotten involved earlier as I do enjoy it so. My self confidence was not where it needed to be about my writing and my love for it.

Reviews

[Chris]

I remember some of this from the aspect of a viewer on the street... a long, long time back the Engines used to come by all lit up... Santa too, and zip through subdivisions. The firehall had weekly bingo on saunday and a flea market on saturday.

Chris