In Lieu of..

I usually do not claim nor discuss much of work, but the loss of my helmet was a reminder how sentimental things could mean so much. This photo was taken after a house fire on Fargo St. in North Charleston, SC.  The fact that I know that is a bit much, but I vividly remember every fire I've made entry into. Being on the front line and advancing a hoseline into a burning building is one of the greatest rushes I've ever felt. It makes the restless nights and afternoons of anticipation well worth the extra heart murmur. The only reminder I have of those moments are memories filed in my brain. They sit amongst the happiest and most trying times of life, all while flushed amongst inebriated nights. The only physical reminder of what I've seen and have been through was permanently affixed to my lid. Whether it be the charred leather sides or blacked out tetrahedrons, it was a constant reminder that I was there. Wherever there may may be..you may have to ask Bubba from McClellanville or Jerry from Bamberg. Their fire stories are endless and quite possibly the most exaggerated in the department. What I do know is the sense of pride I felt when I opened my locker every morning. My helmet represented where I've been. Working extra was no longer a burden, other shifts respected you. Station 3-stood for the busiest in the city, Rescue 3- meant you knew your shit, NCFD draws looks amongst surrounding departments because they do not receive our call volume. Im not a songstress for our department by any means, I think we are completely fucked up and southern like the rest of the state but I've learned an incredible amount about the fire service since getting the opportunity to fill a spot on a truck. The fact that some turd is roaming North Charleston's crack filled streets toting my property with absolutely no use for it frustrates me to no end. Dear helmet, come back.