MOVING OUT and MOVING ON...

I worked in the same firehouse for 6 years.  My dad would come up from Florida 2 or 3 times a year and stay with my sister.  Since I had come with the house, he got to see both of us.  I think Mom would send him up to NY to get him out of her hair.  She worked all day and he was home alone all day.  My Dad would come to the firehouse when I was working day shift.  And when I worked a night shift he came and stayed untilabout 10 PM and then would go home.  The first day he came to the firehouse he asked if they played cards.  Of course they did.  My dad was a great pinochle player.  The officers and senior men always played.  They loved to have him come and play even though he beat them most of the time.  I think the fact that he brought beer with him also helped.  

I was on the job about a year and a half and there was a fellow I went to high school with who was a firefighter.  He was on about 3 years and worked on the other side of down (rough side).  He called me and asked if I was going to the firefighters convention at Grossingers in the Catskills.  I told him I was thinking about it.  He said the rate for the convention was 2 to a room - let’s share a room.  It was a long weekend convention so we decided to take the rest of the week off and head to the Jersey shore afterwards.  We had a blast.  On the way home I told him I was living with my sister and I wanted to find an apartment.  He said that he still lived at home with his parents and was looking for an apartment, too.  We found an apartment near my firehouse.  It was in an 8 story brick building – the owner owned 2 or 3 other buildings and thought it would be great to have firemen as tenants.  He had a 2 bedroom apt. on the 1^st floor – we took it.  

We didn’t have much furniture but Bob’s Mom gave us lots of stuff.  I think she was glad to get him out of her house and on his own.  We drew straws to see who got the BR without a window.  He drew the windowless room but, in the long run, it worked out great for him.  My BR window and the kitchen window faced south.  The south side of our building faced a large parking lot.  Half belonged to our building and half belonged to the 10 story apt. building next door.  Bob and I worked opposite shifts and we were home together about once a week.  There were 2 girls who lived in the next building on the 5^th or 6^th floor.  I think they looked out their window and when we came home, they would come over and ask if we wanted to come over for dinner, go out for a drink, or go to the movies.  In the winter, when we got home about 6:30 it was dark.  When we turned on the kitchen lights, they would show up at our window or call us on the phone.  In those days, we had to wear our fire uniforms back and forth to the firehouse.  I was telling Bob that in the mornings, I laid out my civilian clothes on my bed and when I got home I had to sneak into the apt without turning on the lights.  I put my uniform on the bed, put on my civilian clothes, and snuck out of the building.  He laughed and said he could turn on the light in his room because it didn’t have a window but he had to sneak out of the building too.  We went to the apt. owner and told him about the girls and that we needed another apt. He had one in a different building.  It was newer and bigger and more $ but we took it.   

 

Before we moved out, Bob started dating a girl who had a big Doberman.  We had parquet wood flooring down the hall to the bathroom.  I would come home and see water stains on the wood floor.  I would wax the floor and 2 days later the floor would be stained again (sounds like the odd couple).  I then found out this dog would come over, drink out of the toilet, and dribble down the hall.  Bob was babysitting this big dog.  

One Sunday afternoon, we decided to go to the movies.  Bob had just bought a brand new Ford Mustang – candy-apple red with white seats.  We took the dog with us (WHY???) – we left him in the car (another WHY???) and went to the movie.  When we came out, I walked up to the passenger side of the car and started laughing.  Bob looked in the car, but he didn’t laugh.  The dog had eaten all the leather and stuffing off the passenger seat.  I guess he was mad we didn't bring him any popcorn.  I had to sit on the wire springs for the ride home.  That was the last time I saw that dog or his mistress.  

When I was working at Western Electric, I went back to college at night.  I enrolled at Manhattan College School of Business.  The bosses at Western Electric said that if I got a C or better in any course in business admin that Manhattan College offered, they would pay the tuition and the cost of the books.  When I became a firefighter, I decided to continue my education.  Most firefighters had a second job (called a B job) that they did on their off time.  They jumped at the chance to work my night shifts and I would work their day shifts so they could work their B jobs and make more money.  I didn’t know if I was going to like being a firefighter.  After 3 years on the job, I decided that I loved it

and I would be a firefighter for the next 20 years.  So why was I spending all this time and money taking business administration?  Westchester Community College was starting a new curriculum in Fire Science.  I transferred to Westchester Community College.  The only courses they would transfer were electives so it took me another 2 years to graduate.  I was the only firefighter in my department to receive a degree in Fire Science.  There were only 9 of us in the first graduating class but the demand was increasing for this type of degree.  A few years later, they changed the degree to Public Safety so that Police, and  EMTs, as well as Firefighters, could qualify.  I had finally found my niche in life and my mother was so relieved! 

THE PARACHUTE

I grew up in a small town in the suburbs of New York City.  In 1944, the public golf course across from my parents’ house was sold to a land development company.  I guess that not many people played golf during wartime, especially on a public course.  The land lay unused for 6-7 years which was great for us kids who lived near the course.  

There was a large hill on the course and my friend and I would use it in the winter to sleigh ride.  When the large pond froze, a bunch of us would play ice hockey on it.  In the spring, the brook running through the course was overflowing.  My friend and I would wade in the brook and catch crawfish, tadpoles, and frogs.  Local fathers asked permission to build a backstop and baseball field for use by the little league and local kids.  This was great.  We played softball spring, summer, and early fall for years.  The field was built on the widest and longest fairway.

In late fall of 1945, my friend told me his cousin had just returned from the war and he brought home a German parachute.  We went over to his house to check it out.  My friend’s cousin was full of information.  He told us how many American jumpers were injured or killed when they landed because they couldn’t dump the air out of the chute or get out of the harness and were dragged to death.  He showed us how clever the Germans were.  They had devised a large push button harness holder to put around their waist.  All harness straps were snapped into this holder and locked.  When they were landing, they unlocked the holder and, upon impact, pushed the button and all the straps would fall off.  The chute would fly off without dragging the soldier.  We asked if we could take the chute to the golf course and play with it.  For some unknown reason, he agreed. 

My friend went first.  I hooked him up and he took off running down the fairway.  It was a very windy day and, when a gust of wind came, my friend would go up about 15-25 feet and glide along – about another 50 or so feet.  He would land and do it over again.  Then it was my turn.  I was taller and heavier than he was but the wind was picking up.  I ran down the fairway and a gust of wind lifted me up about 50-60 feet.  We had learned that by pulling on the ropes, you could control where you were going to land.  Well that didn’t work out too well.  I flew up and over a two-story house next to the fairway and landed in a large oak tree.  As I was hanging in the tree, I could hear the parachute being ripped apart by the sharp, leafless branches.  I hit the harness holder and got out of the parachute (Thank God for German engineering!) and climbed out of the tree just as my friend came running.  We were petrified at what his cousin would say about his chute being ripped apart in a tree.  I had a great idea.  I told my friend to run to the local firehouse and tell them I was hanging in a tree.  I climbed back into the tree and buckled the harness.  We thought the firemen would put up the aerial ladder and take me and the chute down.  Hopefully, his cousin would feel sorry for us.

Well, the fire department came – put up an extension ladder – and took me down.  When we asked them to take down the chute, they said “No.”  It would take time to set up the aerial ladder and it might be needed in an emergency.  My friend’s cousin showed up that weekend with some friends with chainsaws and got the chute down.  

Twenty years later, I became a firefighter and I was assigned to this same firehouse.  Over coffee one morning, I was telling the Captain and some other firemen how I grew up just three blocks from the firehouse and walked past it every school day for 7 years. I told them I had also come there to register for the draft when I was 18.  Then I told them about the parachute incident.  The Captain smiled and said he remembered that call.  He had been the Lieutenant on the aerial ladder.  We went down to the basement and returned with the daily journal from that year.  There was the incident report with my name on it.  

I spent twenty years in the fire department and retired as a Lieutenant on the aerial truck.  I never did have to retrieve someone in a parachute in a tree.