Chapter Three
Tucker parked his red Ford F-450 pickup in front of the firehouse. Tonight everyone, volunteer firefighters and his paid staff, would come together to celebrate a job well done, honor those they’d lost, and plan for the following year.
He walked around to the passenger side of the truck and opened the door. He slid a box to the edge of the seat and hoisted it out. It was heavy, and the thin cardboard sort of dipped under the weight of the contents. He slid one hand under the middle to support it, and headed through the parking lot filled with mostly pickup trucks and a few minivans.
The community had worked hard to raise the funds to move the fire station into this new building to position them for success.
Hickory smoke filled the air. The Newton brothers had been tending the barbecuing of the whole hog since the wee hours of the morning.
Lights glowed through the huge glass-panel doors, and friendly banter echoed out into the night. Pride coursed through him as he walked inside to the large group he considered his second family.
Good folks. All of them.
Tables set up earlier this afternoon were now filled end-to-end with casseroles, side dishes, fresh bread, and baked goods that would be enjoyed alongside the barbecued pork.
Tucker walked in and rang the bell that hung next to the front entrance door. “Hey now! How is everyone?”
Cheers and whistles were followed by the shuffle of people turning their attention to their fire chief as the room began to quiet a bit.
Refreshments filled the long table next to the microphone platform, which was mostly used for bingo nights to raise money, but tonight it was Tucker onstage. He set the box down, then grabbed a cup of sweet tea before walking up the steps to take the microphone. “Everyone ready to get this business taken care of so we can eat?”
“Yes!” Everyone gathered around.
“Thanks for coming out,” Tucker said. “To my full-timers, thank you all for keeping it safe for every one of us. It’s a team effort, and you are continually teaching and learning from each other.”
A whistle came from the back.
“We are fortunate to have such a strong group of volunteers,” Tucker said. “When I go to the state meeting, I’m really proud that we don’t have the problems that so many departments across this state are facing. They struggle to find people with this work in their heart. Our recruitment and training numbers have been outstanding. Give yourselves a round of applause.”
As everyone clapped, Tucker looked at the faces in front of him, feeling like a lucky man. “We made it through the year with no critical injuries, and I’m grateful for that.”
“What about when Sully burned off his eyebrows?” someone shouted from the back.
“That was a cooking incident. I’m not counting that one. The bananas Foster was still good, and I’m still convincing myself the crunchy topping was toasted coconut and not his red eyebrows.”
His comments brought lots of laughter, and playful ribbing rose among the group.
“Yeah. Yeah, well, those things happen. But tonight is for serious business. First of all, over seventy percent of fire stations across our country are staffed entirely by volunteers. For a county the size of ours, it’s an honor that we have support from our county to staff a small but mighty and dependable team. But these bays are darn near full of people.” He swallowed hard, controlling the emotion threatening to turn his words to a tremble. “Volunteers. You are critical to this equation. We don’t take any of you for granted. Even those who may have only come out on a very limited basis. You went through the training and you are here for us. Thank you.”
He clapped his hands together, and everyone joined in.
“Thanksgiving is this week. You know, I don’t remember a single year that we didn’t have an incident on Thanksgiving Day. Every fire and rescue is important, but those around the holidays just seem to be harder to take. We need to keep our community on their toes. Be sure to pass on safety information to family, friends, your church pastors, anyone who you talk to. The more knowledge and awareness we can raise, the better off we’ll all be. We’ll be hosting a Thanksgiving dinner here on Thanksgiving Day. Pop in and out as you like. The Trout and Snout is providing all the side dishes, and a big thank-you to the Newton brothers for bringing the barbecue tonight and always. Despite the loving nickname of the Pig Newtons, they will be smoking turkeys on Thanksgiving for us.”
“Tom is a turkey, so that sort of works,” someone said.
Tucker shook his head. It was like a family reunion every time they got together. “Any families you know of who might need any assistance, give Tommy the name and addresses. Anything we don’t consume, we’ll be sure gets into the right folk’s hands that evening.”
Tommy held his clipboard over his head. “See me, or there’s another sign-up sheet over on the bulletin board.”
Tucker went through the rest of the agenda. Finally, with all the business at hand done, he picked up the box he’d placed near the mic earlier.
“Now, my favorite part. Another thank-you letter, and it came with this huge box of cookies. Think y’all can quietly pass this around while I read it?” He handed the cookie box off to someone and it started moving around the room.
“It turns out Mrs. Davenport works for the bakery over in Galax. Her family made these. They are almost too pretty to eat.”
“No such thing as a cookie too pretty to eat.” Luke’s voice rose above the others as he reached for the red and white candy-cane-shaped cookie on the top.
“Coming in,” said Bob, as the decorated Christmas tree cookie caught his eye.
And then it was a free-for-all of hands and elbows until the box was down to a single sparse row of cookies.
Tucker lifted a card in the air. “This is from the Davenports. You’ll remember we got called out in the wee hours of the morning on this one about two months ago when that thunderstorm plowed through here. Lightning struck their house.”
Heads nodded.
“Keep in mind whether you were there that day or not, you are part of this team and these thanks go to every single person in this building. Listen up.”
Tucker pulled the card out and began reading it.
Dear Men and Women of our Chestnut Ridge Fire Department,
We want to take a moment to express our heartfelt gratitude for all of your efforts during the recent house fire at our home. You were all incredible and we are forever grateful.
We never imagined we’d experience such a tragedy and the thought of losing our home and everything in it was absolutely devastating. However, the quick response and efficient actions of your team contained the fire and minimized the damage.
We were impressed by the professionalism and compassion of each one of you. Seeing how you worked together as a team and put your lives at risk for the safety and well-being of our family was truly inspiring.
We know that we will never be able to fully express the depth of our gratitude. Our family will forever be indebted to you for your bravery, dedication, and commitment to serving our community.
We hope that our small words of thanks will offer you some sense of the appreciation that we feel. We made these Christmas cookies for you as a small token of our appreciation.
Again, thank you from the bottom of our hearts.
We are forever grateful,
The Davenports
“Thank you for your service.” Tucker was as proud of them and the work they did together as he could imagine any father would be of his children. “Well done. We make a difference.”
“He’s getting all mushy up there. See. Happens to the best of us.”
The voice came from the middle of the crowd, and as folks stepped away, Tucker spotted who had yelled that. The old fire chief who had retired and promoted Tucker into the position.
“Chief Bowers,” Tucker yelled out. “Thanks for coming out tonight.”
The man walked forward, a slight limp on his right side. “No. I’m not the chief anymore. That’s all you now, Tucker. You make me proud.” Bowers shook Tucker’s hand.
Then, he turned to the group of people who stood shoulder-to-shoulder in front of them. “You’ve done such a great job. Every person in this room helped this kid become a great leader.” Bowers clapped and everyone joined in. “Who knew me having faith in this kid, the youngest volunteer I ever allowed to go on the front line, would someday result in him becoming the youngest captain, and then the youngest chief. Well done, boy.”
“Thank you, sir,” Tucker said.
“Hats off to all of you. You are all heroes in your own right.” A round of thank-yous came from the group. “I didn’t come to just bluster some attaboys to y’all, I have another reason to crash this party.”
Tucker had no idea what he was talking about.
Everyone got quiet.
“The food,” he said, raising his hands in the air. “This guy’s taken enough of your time. Let’s eat.”
“Grab your plates and then gather around,” Tucker said. “I want to go over the Christmas Tree Stroll with y’all and get a committee formed tonight. If we’re going to win this year, we have to really bring it.”
“We got robbed last year.”
“We did good, but you have to admit the winning tree was pretty awesome.” Tucker defended the winner, then went to the front of the line so he could eat first, then talk about the Christmas Tree Stroll while the others ate.
The noise climbed to a gregarious level in a hot hurry as the metal chafing dish lids clanked back and people chatted while filling their plates.
Once everyone had gotten their food and the room quieted down, Tucker took the mic again. “The Christmas Tree Stroll. Y’all listen up. I think we can just do a quick raise of hands on the type and height of the tree. I say we stake claim to the tallest short-needle tree available this year. All hands in favor?”
If every hand wasn’t in the air, he couldn’t tell whose wasn’t.
“Good. Looks like we’re all in agreement. Lessons learned from last year?” Tucker asked.
“We need to be careful with how heavy the ornaments are this year. Lighter ornaments, or wire them in place better. Last year we spent a ton of time picking up ornaments off the ground and trying to rehang them while people were coming through for the stroll. It was a nonstop effort, and it looked sloppy.”
“Good point. Others?”
“If we’re going tall again, we need to get the tree topper up first. Once everyone gets in there to decorate their trees, we can’t position a good-sized ladder to do it.”
“Good feedback. Any others? Or ideas for themes. We can go broader than fire trucks, you know.”
The ideas started blasting him from all sides.
“What if we did something with water?”
“A great big bonfire?”
“Yeah, and kids could roast marshmallows over it.”
“Sending the wrong message y’all,” Tucker said. “No way.”
“How about transportation in general?” Dixie Rogers said. “Trucks, cars, planes, and trains. I have my granddaddy’s train set in the attic. It’s too big for us to use around our tree. It’s a shame no one is putting it to good use. Even has the little steam puffs.”
“Now, that’s an idea.”
“If we do that, we could use real toy trucks, and let that be part of the gift giving at the end,” said Tommy Newton.
“And add those Breyer horses. That’s transportation too. Maybe a pink Barbie Corvette or two?”
“I like it.” If there was one thing Tucker could be confident in, it was that this group of people were never short on ideas. “I really like the idea of the ornaments doing double duty. And we definitely want to make it for boys and girls with that in mind. Maybe even somehow add a couple of scooters or bicycles into the design? Or is that too much?”
“No! I like that,” said Danny, who also owned the bike repair shop. “And I can order a case of shiny bicycle bells and streamers. They’d be festive. How’s that sound?”
“This is great. I think we have a plan. What kind of tree topper is going to at least get us an honorable mention this year?” Tucker scanned the group. “Come on. Get creative.”
“I still can’t believe we didn’t get one for the station helmet. That bedazzled thing glowed for a mile.”
Tucker had to agree. It had taken Doris a long time to put together too. “Maybe we can still tuck that bedazzled helmet in the tree. Put a partridge or two turtledoves in it or something.”
Doris looked pleased with the idea.
“How about we rig up Santa on a sleigh cruising around the top?”
“North Star?”
“Snow machine?”
“If we’re doing transportation, we could do checkered flags or stop lights.”
“Santa on a tiny trike? I have one in the back of the store we could use,” said Danny. “Not sure what it would take to prop it up there, though.”
“How big is it?”
“It’s a push deal, for a tiny tot. Plastic. It doesn’t weigh much.”
“Can we paint it?”
“Sure.”
“How about brightly colored balloons instead of Santa on the trike?” someone hollered out.
“Maybe the tricycle underneath the tree with eight tiny fire trucks pulling it?”
“I like that a lot. I can help work on that,” said Tommy Newton.
“Great. Santa on a trike isn’t something I’ve ever seen. Eight tiny fire trucks each with a name across the windshield like we have Bull Mountain Boys on ours. Either way seems we’re on the path to a cooler idea than whatever the flower shop comes up with this year. I think GG’s is our biggest competition.”
“We need something electronic on it.”
“Josh and I can help with that. We could make the whole thing spin, or since we have the train around the bottom, maybe we do some kind of chasing lights down the tree that give the impression the train is chugging through it.”
“Okay, I need two people to head up the committee and get y’all all scheduled to help out.”
“I can help,” Doris said.
“Me too,” said Tommy.
“Great. So y’all see Tommy or Doris before next week to get your names on the schedule. We need eight team members for on-site decorating, but like last year we can have people prefab things here at the station before they go over to assemble. We’ll need more hands on deck to wrap gifts after the trees are judged if we decide to make every ornament an actual gift.”
“I like that idea,” said one. “Me too,” others agreed.
“Got that, Tommy and Doris? Extra hands the night following the awards.”
Doris said, “We’re going to win this year!”
Enthusiasm spread through the firehouse.
“Now we’re thinking,” said Tucker. “We’ll email out a sketch once the team has a plan pulled together in case anyone has any other suggestions to add. That’s it. Good night.”
Chairs screeched, and everyone pitched in to box up leftovers for distribution and the firehouse freezer for the next potluck.
Once the station cleared out, Tucker flipped all the light switches and secured the building, grabbing the Styrofoam trays, one with food and the other with goodies, that Doris had put together for him like she always did. He walked outside to his truck at the far end of the now-empty lot.
He could picture the transportation-themed Christmas tree. Bright yellow construction trucks, a multitude of tiny shiny race cars, trains, planes, horses, and scooters could pull double duty as decorations. Shiny handlebar bells and neon streamers to add some whimsy, and wouldn’t it be fun to rig up small battery-operated spinning tricycle wheels with cards in the spokes for sound?
Tucker felt his excitement build. They might not even need any regular colored balls on this year’s entry. This idea also happened to fit right in with his favorite song, “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.”
Each team created a sign to post next to their tree, and he could use a router to etch the words “99 Ways to Get Home for Christmas” on theirs. Ninety-nine toy vehicles or modes of transportation should be enough to fill the biggest tree in the competition, which was always theirs. Since some of the items were big, if they couldn’t fit all ninety-nine on the tree, a few under the tree would work too.
Ninety-nine gifts for kids in our county.
Public safety in Chestnut Ridge was the most important thing in his life, but knowing there’d be ninety-nine more smiling faces on Christmas morning, thanks to the generosity and kindness of his team of firefighters, was overwhelmingly precious.