Prez' Page

Farthest North F.O.O.L.S

Prez' Page

Brothers:

So we are well on our way into 2007. It's already March as this is being written and I'm facing another tenure as the chapter president. We have come a long way since the first “CAN” ceremony in the back of a pick up truck at the North Pole City Park. The Can itself has gone from a plastic thermos to a chrome covered, brass mouthed monstrosity that leaves the members gagging after every slick. It's a good thing. That way you won't be caught swigging from it unceremoniously. We have also acquired the long awaited logo, shirts, coins and a haven called “Big Daddy's”, (long may it serve). We are known throughout the land as guys that can get things done, and I believe, for the most part, respected for what we stand for. We have earned the respect of and learned to admire the Puget Sound FOOLS, and we looked forward to further good times with them.

So….now what. Now what. Well,… I've always been one to stoke a fire.

Let me ask you, my brothers, do you really believe in what we stand for? Do you really? If so, what are you doing about it? If I came into your engine house today, would I find you diligently training up the probies? Mentoring a new officer? Taking care of what needs doin'? Or would you be found workin' “ten toes”, watchin' the latest season of “Rescue Me” and whinin' like a rusty axle about how screwed up your department, or your chief is? I trust not.

Last September, and the one before that, firefighters from all over the state noticed that we were standing out and speaking out about something different. The fire service in this state was ready for a change and has needed to experience the Brotherhood as we know it. We are the ones the shouted the word “Leatherhead”. It's therefore up to us, to make sure that individually and as a chapter, we are living and taking action on what we have preached to our brothers and sisters throughout the state.

Remember, Brothers that is what we are to be about. Everything else the FOOLS do is second to this. Our devotion is and should be mirrored off that of those who have gone before and that we inherited our history from. The original Leatherheads. Men like Ed Croker, The Old Man, Tom Brennan, Brunacini and the generation in between, Salka, Lasky and Pressler. These men, in spite of any personal weaknesses and fears have stepped up and stood out for the guy in the jumpseat in ways that unions and management have failed to address. Action. Action through mentoring, teaching and having been blessed with a solid backbone, (good leadership skills).

Brothers, be men of action! “ Actiones non verba! ” wraps around our logo for a reason. We are not to be satisfied with status quo, we don't like the apple cart filled with the easy apples to reach. We want to see the choicest fruit go to the guys on the floor, the ones doin' the job.

So you say, “Hey, Prez', brother, lighten' up! Look at all we've gotten done!”.

Yeah, I know, we have done a lot and we have a lot to be proud of. But I don't want to sit back and relax. When I step off a rig, wearin' my gear and ready for a job, I want to convey these things:

I'm am a professional. I'm not here to look cool in my leather helmet, I'm not here to flap my jibs with the other guys (although that does occur), I'm here to provide the taxpayer with what he deserves. My Brothers, we are the last true American hero. We don't take, we don't hurt, we don't show anger and we aren't paid what our families value us at. No one else can say that.
I'm dedicated to the job, that means I need to absorb as much tradition, knowledge and skill as I can, and feast upon it, continuously. If I am a teacher of my trade, I teach them everything I can, if a leader, I give them everything I can, and I hunger for more so that I can give more. Until I retire and am no longer responsible for the lives of my men, I do not want my thirst to be satisfied.
I am the living ghost of two hundred years of tradition, impeded only by those who wish to use lame excuses like old jokes about “progress”, to hide their own lack of effort and discomfort in front of leatherheaded guys like me. Tradition is dead? Bullshit! Where tradition instills pride, purpose, maturity, and ownership it needs to belong!
I want other firemen to know that I will go beyond my limits for them on a job, to make sure that we all get to go home.
And as Salka says, I will be the first in and the last out.

That, my Brothers, is what I believe the Leatherheads are all about. Am I boasting? Once again, absolutely not. I write of what I set the standard at, I am not there yet.

That kind of fireman isn't grown over night. It takes years of experience, hard work in difficult circumstances and close bonds with your fellow man to make a fireman like that. I hope some day it can be said of me that I did my Brethren proud, and earned the right to be counted among them as such a fireman.

We must mentor, we must have integrity, we must be honest, and good. Among us there can be no deceit, no lies, and no room for self serving ego. We need to be teachable, and honest about our shortcomings, allowing others to criticize us without taking it too personal. That is what makes such men. On a job, or at the big house, you must be diligent and watch over yourself. I am guilty of letting my guard down as much as any other man. It's not easy to be positive and self denying all the time, but those who are watching you are learning from you ALL OF THE TIME, good and bad! Don't let them down, don't let the Brotherhood down.

Yeah, we've accomplished a lot since that first meeting in an old pick up truck. And I am proud to be counted among you. But we have more work to do.

So, now I'll shut up, I've probably already said too much. I love you guys!

The Prez' - Farthest North FOOLS

FTM-PTB-KTF-RFB-DTRT-EGH

Post script –

My brother received his first leather helmet one day. Another firefighter laughed at him and called it vanity. I ‘spose I must appear to be vane. Maybe I am. Although, it's funny. When I take that heavy leather helmet off my head, and my neck feels the relief of the weight, and I wipe the soot, snot and ice from my long moustache, I feel the hand on my shoulder of every Leatherhead that ever stood in a door and shivered in the cold after takin' a blow, crawled, choking, through his own puke to reach the next room, or pulled the limp and lifeless body of his brother from the smoking ash. Every Jake, New Yorker, paid guy and small town volley who gave his life for someone else or lived out his days haunted by memories of those that couldn't be saved.

I'm not vain. I just believe in honor and duty. I wear the Leather to remind you of it!

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