"Chalkie" Visits The Tower

I have been told that the old timey homicide detectives used the term "Chalkie" to describe the outline of a deceased person drawn in chalk around the body. Frankly, I don't know if any law enforcement agencies ever actually traced a chalk line around a dead body. I know I have never seen it done around here, and I been to a few fatal incidents since the early eighties. It might be just a movie thing, though we all know what the outline is for.

Apparently, either a crew or the training division knows what it means as well. There is a story behind the photo below, I just don't know what it is.

I spotted "Chalkie" at the tower a few days ago while taking some pictures of some crews who were drilling.

Although I don't know anything about while Chalkie was at the tower, there is quite a bit of info available in the photo and I can probably come up with an educated guess or two as to what this is all about.

Obviously, it involved a drill session. The F number in the 600's tells me that a boot-ass rookie was the victim. (I obscured the last two digits of the victims F number, no need to further embarrass the poor bastard. BTW, my F number was in the low 100's)

It happened last week.

A shortage of air and water was a major factor in the boot's demise.

Most likely, some rookie failed to follow proper procedure while participating in a search or RIC drill, causing his early demise. Or, perhaps the said rookie neglected to follow proper procedure regarding interior fire attack and PPE. Maybe the rookie didn't follow accountability procedures when making entry and became lost. Regardless, two distinct conclusions can be made from the above photo.

1. - Boot done screwed up.

2. - Boot is unlikely to make that exact same mistake again. Not sayin' he/she won't make others, but that exact same boo-boo probably isn't going to happen again.

I can also add a few other thoughts on the matter. Chalkie's visit was used as a learning tool, not an attempt to humiliate anybody. Firefighting is deadly serious business. A chalked outline now beats the hell out of the Chief knocking on some newly made widow's door in the middle of the night a few years down the road. Sometimes a little visual aid helps in the instruction process.

Thanks for reading,

Schmoe

Thieving Bastiches

I noticed one was missing last Friday. I assumed somebody had just kicked it off and then kicked it away where I couldn't see it. I made a mental note to replace it, either on Saturday morning or Sunday, when it was nice and cool.

Saturday morning, I went out to get the paper and discovered that the loss was not an accident, but was an exploratory strike before an all out assault.

The thieving bastiches stole a bunch of my sprinkler heads!

 They were the old timey Champion Brass ones, like the ones your pop put in his yard back in the '60s. The original owner of my house had installed them back in 1972 when my house was built.

Not very water-wise and rather antiquated, they had been keeping my front yard green for at least forty years. A few had been replaced, usually due to kids or edger-sprinkler contact, but most were period correct.

And now they are gone, most likely destined to a date with the metal recycler. Some  douchebag decided he needed booze or drugs more than I needed a green lawn.

It isn't the money really. It's just that some thieving bastich had the balls to walk into my front yard and kype them. I could have replaced them all for about 60 bucks. That, however, would have been a lesson in futility. They would have been gone again inside a week. Ruth, the neighbor lady on the next block, has replaced hers three times. I question her trainability. Instead, I opted for the cheapo plastic facsimiles which cost me $24 and have absolutely no scrap value.

I view the event as a temporary fix. I really need to redesign my irrigation system and install one more efficient and less wasteful. That is a bigger endeavor than I want to take on right now.  When I do get around to redoing my syatem, you can be assured that you will know about it. The net is a great place to spread whining and gnashing of teeth.

Thanks for reading,

Schmoe

Reflections on Yesterday

Despite the importance of yesterday and the events which cause us to pause and remember the horrific events that occurred on Sept. 11 2001, I didn't post about it. It wasn't because I forgot or didn't think that it was that important. It wasn't even that I didn't want to remember or that I am tired of all of the negative impacts that the terrorist acts have had on countless numbers of lives since the event.

I remember it all, as I am sure most of us do. I remember how I found out. I remember what I did that day and on the days following. I remember how I explained it to my kids. I remember how many of my colleagues flew on that night to assist in the search of the WTC debris. I also remember how emotionally impacted many of those people were when they returned home some time later.

I think the main reason that I didn't post yesterday was, that over the last four years of writing this blog, I have pretty much said everything that I have to say about it. I am not trying to be an asshole about it, but my position on the matter has not really changed in the last four years. I am pretty sure that most of you feel the same way about the tragedy as you did four years ago, perhaps the same way as in 2001.

We still remember, feel the same sense of loss,  the same anguish that we did when it happened. Perhaps our anger is a little less and the view of our response as a nation might have changed, but the core emotions and feelings are still pretty much the same.

If you want to go back and read some of my previous thoughts on the matter, they can be found at the following links:

The Envelope

Fields

Schmoes

I am sure that there are more, I just can't find them.

Don't think less of me for not posting about yesterday - believe me, I spent plenty of time thinking about that awful day - those who were lost, those who lost loved ones and those who have suffered in the aftermath.

Thanks for reading,

Schmoe