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Pointing My Finger at Cicilline
An opinion written by a ProJo “Editorial columnist” on July 16th caught my eye – David N. Cicilline: Stop pointing fingers at illegals.
First of all, when did ProJo hire Cicilline as an “Editorial columnist”? I have known this for quite a while now but it’s nice to see you finally acknowledge the fact.
What a shameless piece of political side-stepping on the “illegals” situation and shameless political maneuvering on behalf of his on again, off again run for the governor’s job in 2010. Apparently his run is “on” this week.
I’d like to state that I am no supporter of Governor Carcieri – not in any stretch of the imagination. His Executive Order concerning illegal aliens in the State of Rhode Island is the very first action (or proposed action) he’s taken to which I am in agreement – at least in theory.
David N. Cicilline takes advantage of his opportunity to address the entire state via ProJo by stating in his headline that he is defending “illegals”. What follows is a half-hearted, untruthful (or at the very least, misleading) defense of the public and documented positions on this issue taken by himself and his “best police chief in America”.
Cicilline writes eleven (11) paragraphs, but devotes nine (9) paragraphs to attacking the Governor and beginning his political campaign to win his seat. While I agree that RI is in a recession, and I agree with some of the statements he makes regarding the Governor’s anti-taxpayer policies, these are not in keeping with the intended (going by the headline) subject. These are purely out-and-out campaign issues. This was nothing more than an attempt to divert attention away from the “illegals” problem and position himself as a candidate for Governor.
He continually refuses to give direct answers on this issue. Is it any wonder he refused the invitation to appear on O’Reilly’s show? He will never appear with someone if he knows they will not let him dodge the issue with his quick political foot work.
As for his assertion that “Providence has always reported and will continue to report “all” arrests to immigration authorities”, this is a total misrepresentation of the facts. While it is technically true, the number of names sent were far more than needed to be sent. The PPD sent the names of “all” individuals arraigned that day. Also, in most cases, these names were forwarded after the case had already been disposed and the individual had been set free.
As for Cicilline’s assertion that Providence is not considered a “sanctuary city” is completely untruthful. Just ask any illegal on the street’s of Providence. I deal with many people of all types on the streets of Providence. The “illegals” are not limited to people of Hispanic roots by any means – Asians, Europeans, Africans and Middle East immigrants can be just as likely illegal. One of the predominant characteristics of the illegals in Providence (as well as many other locations, I’m sure) is that they drive unregistered and uninsured vehicles, with no operator’s license. This is an everyday occurance at motor vehicle accidents in Providence. Ask the people who break the law in this manner and are only given tickets to pay a fine if Providence is a sanctuary city.
Cicilline goes on to attempt to shift blame for Marco Riz’s release from Providence’s custody to ICE. Not surprising – he found scapegoats for the snowstorm debacle and the failure of the Providence school system as well!!
Friday, July 18, 2008
Saturday, July 12, 2008
UNTIL......
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Until…
I watched on TV the firemen rushing to the scene of the WTC
I watched as the tower fell and knew we had just lost several brothers
But it wasn’t until I saw the firemen running away from the building that I felt the fear
I watched as thousands of firefighters from all over the world gathered in Worcester, MA
I watched as thousands of Worcester citizens silently gazed at us as we marched
But it wasn’t until it was all over that I silently cried and understood
I watched as the smoke and flames engulfed the entire front of the building
I watched as my friends, my brothers, crawled along the hot, smoky floor
But it wasn’t until we recovered the infant’s charred remains that my heart began to break
I looked down in horror at the lifeless and faceless baby lying before me on the floor
I watched as the Medics worked feverishly in an attempt to breathe life back into her lungs
But it wasn’t until the doctor “called it”, that the finality of the moment struck me
I’ve watched from my front row seat as so many tragedies unfold right before my eyes
I’ve seen so many people’s lives irreversibly shattered without any prior warning
But it’s not until the moment has passed, that the pain imbeds itself forever in my soul
Tom Kenney - 2008
Until…
I watched on TV the firemen rushing to the scene of the WTC
I watched as the tower fell and knew we had just lost several brothers
But it wasn’t until I saw the firemen running away from the building that I felt the fear
I watched as thousands of firefighters from all over the world gathered in Worcester, MA
I watched as thousands of Worcester citizens silently gazed at us as we marched
But it wasn’t until it was all over that I silently cried and understood
I watched as the smoke and flames engulfed the entire front of the building
I watched as my friends, my brothers, crawled along the hot, smoky floor
But it wasn’t until we recovered the infant’s charred remains that my heart began to break
I looked down in horror at the lifeless and faceless baby lying before me on the floor
I watched as the Medics worked feverishly in an attempt to breathe life back into her lungs
But it wasn’t until the doctor “called it”, that the finality of the moment struck me
I’ve watched from my front row seat as so many tragedies unfold right before my eyes
I’ve seen so many people’s lives irreversibly shattered without any prior warning
But it’s not until the moment has passed, that the pain imbeds itself forever in my soul
Tom Kenney - 2008
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Small Fire / Big Potential (x's 2)
Small Fire / Big Potential
The other night we had what turned out to be a relatively small and ordinary fire in a house which was in renovation. At two different points during the fire, however, there was potential for catastrophic consequences – one known and one unknown.
We were dispatched to a reported dwelling fire in the Mt. Pleasant section of the city about 10:00 PM on a clear humid night. When we arrived on the scene of the reported address, we could see no signs of smoke or flame. While we were investigating, a neighbor from across the street, apparently the one who had called 911, approached us saying “mucho fuego” while pointing to the first floor of an unlit home. We looked in through the windows from the street and saw nothing. As we attempted to ask him if he was sure it was this house, he waved his arms in an upward motion, pointed to the house, and said, “Si, si”.
We made our way to the porch to peer into the living room via the front windows. When Tim tried to see into the house the window looked foggy. He attempted to wipe the outside of the window, but quickly pulled his hand back, “The window’s hot, we’ve got a fire in there”, he said. “Go get the line (hoseline)”, I barked. “Engine 15 to Fire Alarm, Code Red, 2-story, wood-frame, occupied, fire on the first floor.”
As Timmy came back with the line, I yelled to Ladder 6 as they pulled up that we needed a ladderman to open up the heavy front door. As Timmy stretched the hoseline to get it into position I told him to stay low and away from the windows. With a fire of this type it is very possible that the heat is building to extreme levels inside the house as the fire (which has already been burning) now smolders due to a lack of oxygen. If the windows break from the high heat and oxygen is introduced to the smoldering fire the result could be explosive – a backdraft.
We crouched together in front of the door as a couple of guys from L-6 began forcing the door. We were staying as low as possible because introducing the oxygen via the open door could have the same type of result. If we stayed low the fire would roll out the door above us.
The door was forced and the heat and thick smoke poured out of the building and enshrouded us on the porch, but no explosion. One potentially serious situation was now over and the incident became more of a routine fire. We made our way into the hallway and then into the living room very quickly and Tim directed the hose stream toward the growing glow to our right. It was hot, smoky and almost completely black. We crawled over debris on the floor and stumbled over furniture strewn about the room as we chased the only visible light in the room, extinguishing the fire before it could get grow to the size it had once been.
As Tim continued to wet and cool the area to avoid any chance of flare-ups I saw a bright glow from the corner of my eye, just about a foot to my left. I began to feel the heat of another area of fire growing quickly right next to us. I tapped Timmy on the left shoulder and yelled through the mask, “Over here, to your left!” He quickly turned to see the new area of fire and attempted to get the hoseline in position to knock it down but the line was caught on something in the dark. As he struggled with the hose we began to hear the fire crackle and pop as it fed on the debris on the floor. When he finally pulled the hoseline free and directed the stream at the fire it quickly darkened down, overpowered by the 125 gpm’s (gallons-per-minute) of water delivered by our line.
Once we had opened the door without incident this had been a relatively ordinary and small fire. Even the flare up of the debris next to us was never anything that was overly worrisome. After we had knocked down the fires we, along with members from other companies, began opening windows allowing the remaining heavy smoke to escape to the outside. The contents and layout of the house began to slowly come into view. It was then evident that this fire had burnt for quite a while before going into hibernation due to the lack of oxygen. The charring of the walls, ceiling and furniture all happened prior to our arrival. We had extinguished the rejuvenated fire before it could do further damage.
All in all this had been a successful operation for us. We had avoided a potentially serious situation and had knocked down the fire with minimal damage. It wasn’t until the fire investigator began to sift through the debris which had been burning about a foot away from Tim and I that he noticed that there was live ammunition scattered throughout the debris – a box of rifle shells and a bunch of loose .38 caliber shells!
The first potentially dangerous situation was avoided by recognizing the signs and properly gaining access to the building. Breaking the windows could have lead to disastrous consequences.
The second potentially dangerous situation was avoided by pure luck!
The other night we had what turned out to be a relatively small and ordinary fire in a house which was in renovation. At two different points during the fire, however, there was potential for catastrophic consequences – one known and one unknown.
We were dispatched to a reported dwelling fire in the Mt. Pleasant section of the city about 10:00 PM on a clear humid night. When we arrived on the scene of the reported address, we could see no signs of smoke or flame. While we were investigating, a neighbor from across the street, apparently the one who had called 911, approached us saying “mucho fuego” while pointing to the first floor of an unlit home. We looked in through the windows from the street and saw nothing. As we attempted to ask him if he was sure it was this house, he waved his arms in an upward motion, pointed to the house, and said, “Si, si”.
We made our way to the porch to peer into the living room via the front windows. When Tim tried to see into the house the window looked foggy. He attempted to wipe the outside of the window, but quickly pulled his hand back, “The window’s hot, we’ve got a fire in there”, he said. “Go get the line (hoseline)”, I barked. “Engine 15 to Fire Alarm, Code Red, 2-story, wood-frame, occupied, fire on the first floor.”
As Timmy came back with the line, I yelled to Ladder 6 as they pulled up that we needed a ladderman to open up the heavy front door. As Timmy stretched the hoseline to get it into position I told him to stay low and away from the windows. With a fire of this type it is very possible that the heat is building to extreme levels inside the house as the fire (which has already been burning) now smolders due to a lack of oxygen. If the windows break from the high heat and oxygen is introduced to the smoldering fire the result could be explosive – a backdraft.
We crouched together in front of the door as a couple of guys from L-6 began forcing the door. We were staying as low as possible because introducing the oxygen via the open door could have the same type of result. If we stayed low the fire would roll out the door above us.
The door was forced and the heat and thick smoke poured out of the building and enshrouded us on the porch, but no explosion. One potentially serious situation was now over and the incident became more of a routine fire. We made our way into the hallway and then into the living room very quickly and Tim directed the hose stream toward the growing glow to our right. It was hot, smoky and almost completely black. We crawled over debris on the floor and stumbled over furniture strewn about the room as we chased the only visible light in the room, extinguishing the fire before it could get grow to the size it had once been.
As Tim continued to wet and cool the area to avoid any chance of flare-ups I saw a bright glow from the corner of my eye, just about a foot to my left. I began to feel the heat of another area of fire growing quickly right next to us. I tapped Timmy on the left shoulder and yelled through the mask, “Over here, to your left!” He quickly turned to see the new area of fire and attempted to get the hoseline in position to knock it down but the line was caught on something in the dark. As he struggled with the hose we began to hear the fire crackle and pop as it fed on the debris on the floor. When he finally pulled the hoseline free and directed the stream at the fire it quickly darkened down, overpowered by the 125 gpm’s (gallons-per-minute) of water delivered by our line.
Once we had opened the door without incident this had been a relatively ordinary and small fire. Even the flare up of the debris next to us was never anything that was overly worrisome. After we had knocked down the fires we, along with members from other companies, began opening windows allowing the remaining heavy smoke to escape to the outside. The contents and layout of the house began to slowly come into view. It was then evident that this fire had burnt for quite a while before going into hibernation due to the lack of oxygen. The charring of the walls, ceiling and furniture all happened prior to our arrival. We had extinguished the rejuvenated fire before it could do further damage.
All in all this had been a successful operation for us. We had avoided a potentially serious situation and had knocked down the fire with minimal damage. It wasn’t until the fire investigator began to sift through the debris which had been burning about a foot away from Tim and I that he noticed that there was live ammunition scattered throughout the debris – a box of rifle shells and a bunch of loose .38 caliber shells!
The first potentially dangerous situation was avoided by recognizing the signs and properly gaining access to the building. Breaking the windows could have lead to disastrous consequences.
The second potentially dangerous situation was avoided by pure luck!
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Tommy, You Shit-Stirrer, You
Tommy, You Old Shit-Stirrer, You
The call came in as “a man unconscious”. Nothing special, just the same type of call I’ve responded to hundreds of times in the past. So I thought nothing special as we headed through garage door and sped toward the scene.
Pulling in front of a pitch-black house at 3:00 AM is nothing unusual either, despite the fact that someone here had dialed 911 with an apparent life threatening emergency. Sometimes people will meet us in front of the house screaming and waving hysterically and sometimes they forget to put their lights on or even unlock the door for us. Sometimes they even go back to bed!
We walked to the darkened doorway, wiping the sleep from our eyes, and rang the bell. Rescue 2 was on the way but wouldn’t arrive for another 2 to 3 minutes. When we didn’t get a reaction right away I began to pound on the front door, “Fire department”! A short time after that an 80 year old woman meekly cracked open the door looking like she had just been roused from a sound sleep. “Yes?”, she said. By this time I was beginning to think that we were at the wrong house. “Did you call 911, mam?” “Yes, come in.”
We followed her into an immaculate home as she began to guide us to the rear of the house. “He’s lying on the bathroom floor, and I don’t know if he’s breathing or not”, she said as she pointed to a closed door. “Tommy. Tommy, are you all right?”, she asked through the door. No response.
I moved her back to the living room as we tried to force the door open to gain entry to the bathroom. The door wasn’t locked, but it was being held shut by something on the inside. As I peeked in through the thin space we’d forced I could see his feet on the floor moving franticly to keep himself pressed up against the back of the door. “Tommy, open the door and let us in”, I said. At least we now knew that he wasn’t lying dead or unconscious on the bathroom floor. I walked into the living room to tell the old lady that he seemed fine and was moving on his own as my guys continued to try to gain access.
Around the same time Rescue 2 entered the home. When the door was forced open enough to get a good look at Tommy (the old lady’s 64 year old son) we saw that he was naked on the floor trying desperately to keep his body against the door to keep us out. He was not verbally responsive and seemed to be completely disoriented. And, he was literally full of shit!
It was all over the white tile floor, all over him, in his hair, his mouth, his eyes – everywhere! We sent a man out to the rescue to get towels and sheets as we regrouped in the hallway trying to decide how to handle him. As the FF returned with the towels we decided that the guy and girl from Rescue would wet the towels and try to wipe him down as well as possible under the circumstances while the two FF’s with me would hold him down with the sheets and attempt to wrap him up in them. While they were doing this I attempted to calm the mother down and lead her to a different side of the house and distract her while they struggled with Tommy.
As I attempted to ascertain a brief medical history from mom I found out that, as a child, Tommy had been struck in the head by a golf ball. Apparently he suffered from occasional bouts with dementia-like symptoms. In between these bouts he was, according to his mom, a normal man who held a job and had served in the military. Somehow it seemed even more pathetic that someone who reportedly lived his life in a normal manner could be reduced to this type of behavior at random.
As I kept mom’s attention in the kitchen I could see that they had him wrapped up in the sheets and were carrying him outside to the gurney awaiting his arrival on the sidewalk in front of the house. I told her that we would take good care of him and get him the help he needed at RI Hospital. As he was put on the stretcher and strapped in his mom came to the front door to wave goodbye. He was covered by the sheets with only his cleaned up face peeking through, so mom never saw what a mess he had made of himself. We didn’t want her to see him like that. It was bad enough that she was going to have to deal with the mess in the bathroom, but at least she didn’t have that mental picture sticking in her memory.
The call came in as “a man unconscious”. Nothing special, just the same type of call I’ve responded to hundreds of times in the past. So I thought nothing special as we headed through garage door and sped toward the scene.
Pulling in front of a pitch-black house at 3:00 AM is nothing unusual either, despite the fact that someone here had dialed 911 with an apparent life threatening emergency. Sometimes people will meet us in front of the house screaming and waving hysterically and sometimes they forget to put their lights on or even unlock the door for us. Sometimes they even go back to bed!
We walked to the darkened doorway, wiping the sleep from our eyes, and rang the bell. Rescue 2 was on the way but wouldn’t arrive for another 2 to 3 minutes. When we didn’t get a reaction right away I began to pound on the front door, “Fire department”! A short time after that an 80 year old woman meekly cracked open the door looking like she had just been roused from a sound sleep. “Yes?”, she said. By this time I was beginning to think that we were at the wrong house. “Did you call 911, mam?” “Yes, come in.”
We followed her into an immaculate home as she began to guide us to the rear of the house. “He’s lying on the bathroom floor, and I don’t know if he’s breathing or not”, she said as she pointed to a closed door. “Tommy. Tommy, are you all right?”, she asked through the door. No response.
I moved her back to the living room as we tried to force the door open to gain entry to the bathroom. The door wasn’t locked, but it was being held shut by something on the inside. As I peeked in through the thin space we’d forced I could see his feet on the floor moving franticly to keep himself pressed up against the back of the door. “Tommy, open the door and let us in”, I said. At least we now knew that he wasn’t lying dead or unconscious on the bathroom floor. I walked into the living room to tell the old lady that he seemed fine and was moving on his own as my guys continued to try to gain access.
Around the same time Rescue 2 entered the home. When the door was forced open enough to get a good look at Tommy (the old lady’s 64 year old son) we saw that he was naked on the floor trying desperately to keep his body against the door to keep us out. He was not verbally responsive and seemed to be completely disoriented. And, he was literally full of shit!
It was all over the white tile floor, all over him, in his hair, his mouth, his eyes – everywhere! We sent a man out to the rescue to get towels and sheets as we regrouped in the hallway trying to decide how to handle him. As the FF returned with the towels we decided that the guy and girl from Rescue would wet the towels and try to wipe him down as well as possible under the circumstances while the two FF’s with me would hold him down with the sheets and attempt to wrap him up in them. While they were doing this I attempted to calm the mother down and lead her to a different side of the house and distract her while they struggled with Tommy.
As I attempted to ascertain a brief medical history from mom I found out that, as a child, Tommy had been struck in the head by a golf ball. Apparently he suffered from occasional bouts with dementia-like symptoms. In between these bouts he was, according to his mom, a normal man who held a job and had served in the military. Somehow it seemed even more pathetic that someone who reportedly lived his life in a normal manner could be reduced to this type of behavior at random.
As I kept mom’s attention in the kitchen I could see that they had him wrapped up in the sheets and were carrying him outside to the gurney awaiting his arrival on the sidewalk in front of the house. I told her that we would take good care of him and get him the help he needed at RI Hospital. As he was put on the stretcher and strapped in his mom came to the front door to wave goodbye. He was covered by the sheets with only his cleaned up face peeking through, so mom never saw what a mess he had made of himself. We didn’t want her to see him like that. It was bad enough that she was going to have to deal with the mess in the bathroom, but at least she didn’t have that mental picture sticking in her memory.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Firefighters - Neither Heroes nor Villains
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Firefighters – Neither Heroes nor Villains
Over the past eight years firefighters, particularly those in RI, have endured a complete 360 degree turnabout in public perception. Obscurity -- hero status -- obscurity -- villain. Those of us who make our living donning turnout gear and responding to fires and other emergencies haven’t changed, but the public’s perception of us seems to change on a whim.
Nearly all firefighters consider their job as a vocation – a calling. We are firefighters, first and foremost – anything else we might be falls after that. We are proud of our profession and proud to be part of the “brotherhood” of firefighters. We were proud to be part of this “brotherhood” long before the towers fell on 9/11, and we remain so even during this trying time when the politicians and the press are demonizing us on a daily basis. We are a close-knit family. We know what we do and what it takes to do what we do. For the most part we don’t care what the general public thinks of us, for they can never fully understand. It is the respect and acceptance of our brothers that means the most to us.
We never sought the tag of hero. None of us are true heroes. Heroes are not born, but rather they are the products of opportunity. None of us plan to make the ultimate sacrifice. Indeed, if your house is on fire and it ultimately comes down to a choice between you and me – sorry, but I’m outta there! The reality is, however, that we’re not usually given that choice. We readily push the envelope and risk our lives to protect those we’re sworn to serve. Most of the time we can sense when trouble is just around the corner – sometimes we can’t.
For years we fought the daily battles in obscurity, only occasionally receiving any press coverage or attention from the general public. That began to change, particularly in this area, directly following the tragic fire in Worcester, MA in which we lost 6 firefighters. We’ve lost that many firefighters before, but something about that fire captured the imagination of the general public (and the press) and generated a tremendous outpouring of good will toward firefighters everywhere. I don’t know whether it was the press coverage, the massive memorial service that brought over 20,000 firefighters as well as the President and Vice President to Worcester, or the fact that it took over a week to recover the remains of these brave men, but people began to stop us on the street and thank us for our service.
Two short years later, as that sentiment had become but a memory to most, America was attacked on our own soil and 343 brave firefighters from New York City gave their lives “just doing their jobs”. While it was true that they didn’t intentionally march off to their deaths, I personally know a firefighter from FDNY who kissed his best friend in the lobby of the WTC before that friend began his ascent in the stairwell – and ultimately to heaven. They both knew that it “could be” the last time they saw each other in this lifetime, but they both had their jobs to do and they weren’t about to shirk their responsibilities because of the dire circumstances. On the contrary, this was the time they were needed most.
It speaks volumes about those brave men (and about firefighters everywhere) that many of those who responded to the WTC that day, and many of those who perished, were not even on duty at the time of the alarm. Many were already relieved from duty but still in the firehouse when the tones sounded. They had absolutely no obligation to get on those trucks and respond to the scene. They did so because they were firefighters, first and foremost, and the people they serve needed them – their brothers needed them.
After that tragic day in our nation’s history firefighters everywhere were hailed as true American heroes. This was a tag put on us by the media – and by the general public. I was truly taken aback when I walked the streets of New York City in uniform following the first of many funerals and memorial services I attended for our fallen brothers, that people would smile and say “thank you” or “God bless you”. This is not the kind of thing I had ever experienced in my many visits to NYC. People would offer to buy my coffee or pay for my drinks. Firefighters around the country were treated with respect and gratitude.
I remember telling my wife that this would pass, that we would soon be nothing more than lower middle class public servants once again. She looked at me in utter disbelief and asked me, “…how can anyone ever think of firefighters that way again? I don’t believe it!” In my estimation it took about three years for all the grateful sentiment to wear away. Maybe it was the escalating war in Iraq. Maybe it was the resentment of the general public at the tag that they had put on us. Perhaps it was just part of the healing process of the entire country, to put those memories away. Whatever the reason, we were dwelling in obscurity once again. Most firefighters were glad to have it that way. We were forever changed as a country as a result of that day. We were forever changed as a “brotherhood”. We were still proud of the sacrifice our brothers from FDNY had made and to a man we all vowed to “never forget”, but we were tired of trying to live up to the hero tag.
Once we were restored to mere human status it didn’t take long before we were being attacked as greedy union workers trying to bleed taxpayers dry. Although most people don’t want to admit it, their opinions are greatly influenced by political rhetoric and media coverage. Most people don’t have the time or the inclination to read beyond the headlines or research beyond the sound-bite on the news. Many people are influenced by the radio talk show hosts – the majority of whom are left-wing conservatives whose major political concern is downsizing government and lowering taxes.
So, as the economy began to edge toward recession and local taxes began to rise, the politicians and the conservative media began painting the picture of greedy unions being the source of the problem. Nothing could be further from the truth – but that’s an argument for a different day. As the general public took in all this propaganda they began to look at firefighters (particularly in Providence) as villains. This view was confirmed, in their eyes, as their tax bills began to rise. As previously stated, most citizens are spoon-fed their opinions by politicians and media and don’t bother to look beyond for the underlying reasons.
Subsequently, as is usually the case, the truth lies firmly between the extremes. Firefighters are neither heroes nor villains; we are simply honorable men and women working at a profession we love. We take our oaths seriously and are ready to risk whatever be asked of us at a moment’s notice. Are we willing to knowingly trade our own lives for others? No. Are we ready to risk our lives for the protection of perfect strangers? Every time we climb on the trucks. Do we feel we deserve excessive salaries and benefits? No. Do we feel that we deserve fair compensation for our work and adequate health care and retirement benefits? Of course – especially since our health and longevity is compromised by our working conditions. We owe that much to ourselves and to our families.
Firefighters – Neither Heroes nor Villains
Over the past eight years firefighters, particularly those in RI, have endured a complete 360 degree turnabout in public perception. Obscurity -- hero status -- obscurity -- villain. Those of us who make our living donning turnout gear and responding to fires and other emergencies haven’t changed, but the public’s perception of us seems to change on a whim.
Nearly all firefighters consider their job as a vocation – a calling. We are firefighters, first and foremost – anything else we might be falls after that. We are proud of our profession and proud to be part of the “brotherhood” of firefighters. We were proud to be part of this “brotherhood” long before the towers fell on 9/11, and we remain so even during this trying time when the politicians and the press are demonizing us on a daily basis. We are a close-knit family. We know what we do and what it takes to do what we do. For the most part we don’t care what the general public thinks of us, for they can never fully understand. It is the respect and acceptance of our brothers that means the most to us.
We never sought the tag of hero. None of us are true heroes. Heroes are not born, but rather they are the products of opportunity. None of us plan to make the ultimate sacrifice. Indeed, if your house is on fire and it ultimately comes down to a choice between you and me – sorry, but I’m outta there! The reality is, however, that we’re not usually given that choice. We readily push the envelope and risk our lives to protect those we’re sworn to serve. Most of the time we can sense when trouble is just around the corner – sometimes we can’t.
For years we fought the daily battles in obscurity, only occasionally receiving any press coverage or attention from the general public. That began to change, particularly in this area, directly following the tragic fire in Worcester, MA in which we lost 6 firefighters. We’ve lost that many firefighters before, but something about that fire captured the imagination of the general public (and the press) and generated a tremendous outpouring of good will toward firefighters everywhere. I don’t know whether it was the press coverage, the massive memorial service that brought over 20,000 firefighters as well as the President and Vice President to Worcester, or the fact that it took over a week to recover the remains of these brave men, but people began to stop us on the street and thank us for our service.
Two short years later, as that sentiment had become but a memory to most, America was attacked on our own soil and 343 brave firefighters from New York City gave their lives “just doing their jobs”. While it was true that they didn’t intentionally march off to their deaths, I personally know a firefighter from FDNY who kissed his best friend in the lobby of the WTC before that friend began his ascent in the stairwell – and ultimately to heaven. They both knew that it “could be” the last time they saw each other in this lifetime, but they both had their jobs to do and they weren’t about to shirk their responsibilities because of the dire circumstances. On the contrary, this was the time they were needed most.
It speaks volumes about those brave men (and about firefighters everywhere) that many of those who responded to the WTC that day, and many of those who perished, were not even on duty at the time of the alarm. Many were already relieved from duty but still in the firehouse when the tones sounded. They had absolutely no obligation to get on those trucks and respond to the scene. They did so because they were firefighters, first and foremost, and the people they serve needed them – their brothers needed them.
After that tragic day in our nation’s history firefighters everywhere were hailed as true American heroes. This was a tag put on us by the media – and by the general public. I was truly taken aback when I walked the streets of New York City in uniform following the first of many funerals and memorial services I attended for our fallen brothers, that people would smile and say “thank you” or “God bless you”. This is not the kind of thing I had ever experienced in my many visits to NYC. People would offer to buy my coffee or pay for my drinks. Firefighters around the country were treated with respect and gratitude.
I remember telling my wife that this would pass, that we would soon be nothing more than lower middle class public servants once again. She looked at me in utter disbelief and asked me, “…how can anyone ever think of firefighters that way again? I don’t believe it!” In my estimation it took about three years for all the grateful sentiment to wear away. Maybe it was the escalating war in Iraq. Maybe it was the resentment of the general public at the tag that they had put on us. Perhaps it was just part of the healing process of the entire country, to put those memories away. Whatever the reason, we were dwelling in obscurity once again. Most firefighters were glad to have it that way. We were forever changed as a country as a result of that day. We were forever changed as a “brotherhood”. We were still proud of the sacrifice our brothers from FDNY had made and to a man we all vowed to “never forget”, but we were tired of trying to live up to the hero tag.
Once we were restored to mere human status it didn’t take long before we were being attacked as greedy union workers trying to bleed taxpayers dry. Although most people don’t want to admit it, their opinions are greatly influenced by political rhetoric and media coverage. Most people don’t have the time or the inclination to read beyond the headlines or research beyond the sound-bite on the news. Many people are influenced by the radio talk show hosts – the majority of whom are left-wing conservatives whose major political concern is downsizing government and lowering taxes.
So, as the economy began to edge toward recession and local taxes began to rise, the politicians and the conservative media began painting the picture of greedy unions being the source of the problem. Nothing could be further from the truth – but that’s an argument for a different day. As the general public took in all this propaganda they began to look at firefighters (particularly in Providence) as villains. This view was confirmed, in their eyes, as their tax bills began to rise. As previously stated, most citizens are spoon-fed their opinions by politicians and media and don’t bother to look beyond for the underlying reasons.
Subsequently, as is usually the case, the truth lies firmly between the extremes. Firefighters are neither heroes nor villains; we are simply honorable men and women working at a profession we love. We take our oaths seriously and are ready to risk whatever be asked of us at a moment’s notice. Are we willing to knowingly trade our own lives for others? No. Are we ready to risk our lives for the protection of perfect strangers? Every time we climb on the trucks. Do we feel we deserve excessive salaries and benefits? No. Do we feel that we deserve fair compensation for our work and adequate health care and retirement benefits? Of course – especially since our health and longevity is compromised by our working conditions. We owe that much to ourselves and to our families.
Friday, May 2, 2008
For my friend, Al
.
"TORTURED SOUL"
Helplessly I watched, as his life bled from his veins
Pooling for all to see
Though my head had to know where this was leading
My heart refused to agree
I stepped back into his life, from time to time
Attempting to force his hand
But he refused my many offers for assistance
Not seeming to understand
Always, he’d give me some sort of excuse
For his current situation
As I listened I’d find myself needing to believe
If only out of desperation
My heart wouldn’t allow me to imagine him as lost
And spiraling out of control
It would tell me that I should be there, not to chastise
But strictly to console
So I’d listen, get sucked in, and sympathize
Treat him with kid gloves
When what he really needed to straighten out his life
Was a lesson in tough-love
With a heavy heart, I feel that I let him down
As others do, I’m sure
Over time his demons flourished and became
More than he could endure
In the end, his tortured soul could find no shelter
In this mortal realm
So he set himself upon a path for self-destruction
Simply overwhelmed
If only I could have convinced him there were ways
His course to re-chart
If only I’d been intuitive enough to listen to my head
Instead of to my heart
"TORTURED SOUL"
Helplessly I watched, as his life bled from his veins
Pooling for all to see
Though my head had to know where this was leading
My heart refused to agree
I stepped back into his life, from time to time
Attempting to force his hand
But he refused my many offers for assistance
Not seeming to understand
Always, he’d give me some sort of excuse
For his current situation
As I listened I’d find myself needing to believe
If only out of desperation
My heart wouldn’t allow me to imagine him as lost
And spiraling out of control
It would tell me that I should be there, not to chastise
But strictly to console
So I’d listen, get sucked in, and sympathize
Treat him with kid gloves
When what he really needed to straighten out his life
Was a lesson in tough-love
With a heavy heart, I feel that I let him down
As others do, I’m sure
Over time his demons flourished and became
More than he could endure
In the end, his tortured soul could find no shelter
In this mortal realm
So he set himself upon a path for self-destruction
Simply overwhelmed
If only I could have convinced him there were ways
His course to re-chart
If only I’d been intuitive enough to listen to my head
Instead of to my heart
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
ProJo in Bed With Cicilline
Letter-to-the-Editor (7-APR-08)
Dear Editor:
I am once again at a loss for words on the slanted, one-sided reporting of your paper. I am referring to the published letter by David Cicilline in the April 7th issue of the Providence Journal “Standing up for struggling families means taking on union”. This letter is filled with distortions and downright lies regarding the contractual impasse between the city and Providence firefighters. On top of this, it is a rehash of old lies by the mayor that have been printed numerous times by your paper. I, and others, have written to your editors on numerous occasions pointing out the factual errors of your articles and of letters you have published on this subject, but you choose not to publish them.
While the actions and rhetoric of Cicilline are disgraceful from a man who claims to be concerned with ethics in government, they are (at least) understandable. He has had his chances of gaining the Governor’s office dashed by his inability to successfully settle a simple labor contract with Local 799. He holds a grudge against us and is striking back with everything he can think of – whether or not it is truthful. Your editor’s actions, however, are indefensible. They have a responsibility to the people of this state to report the news as it occurs, not selectively. And although the editorial pages are a place your editors can report opinion, it is still your obligation to use facts to base your claims – not exaggerations, distortions and lies.
Cicilline’s letter stated - “220 members of Local799 earned over $100,000 last year.”
The fact is – at least 210 of these members earned this amount in 2006 ONLY because they received a retroactive pay raise that should have been paid over a 5-year period.
Cicilline’s letter stated – “City residents paid $660,000 in overtime to staff a rescue truck that would have cost no overtime except that provisions in the contract prevent the chief from assigning personnel efficiently.”
The fact is – it cost overtime to staff that rescue because Providence firefighters refused to allow the mayor and the chief to remove firefighters (and thus lessen fire protection) from active fire apparatus. The city is in desperate need of this rescue (and more), but it is our firm belief that it shouldn’t be done at the cost of adequate fire protection.
Cicilline’s letter implies that – Providence has the highest cost for firefighters in the nation.
The fact is – although the urban areas of the Northeast are traditionally (and understandably) the location of the highest cost per resident for fire service, Providence firefighters are not even the highest paid firefighters in the state.
He implies that Providence firefighters are costing the city taxpayers to face tax hikes in their property tax.
The fact is – Providence firefighter’s salaries account for a mere 3.99% of the annual budget of the City of Providence.
He implies that the main stumbling block for firefighters is a refusal to pay health care co-shares.
The fact is – the main stumbling block causing this impasse on the part of Providence firefighters is now, and has always been, the city’s insistence on reducing staffing on fire apparatus and thus putting both firefighters and our citizens in greater danger.
All these facts have been given to the editors of the Providence Journal on numerous occasions. Not only have you chosen not to publish these facts, but you continue to allow Cicilline to state these misrepresentations as fact – that is journalism of the lowest caliber.
Lt. Tom Kenney
Providence Fire Department
Dear Editor:
I am once again at a loss for words on the slanted, one-sided reporting of your paper. I am referring to the published letter by David Cicilline in the April 7th issue of the Providence Journal “Standing up for struggling families means taking on union”. This letter is filled with distortions and downright lies regarding the contractual impasse between the city and Providence firefighters. On top of this, it is a rehash of old lies by the mayor that have been printed numerous times by your paper. I, and others, have written to your editors on numerous occasions pointing out the factual errors of your articles and of letters you have published on this subject, but you choose not to publish them.
While the actions and rhetoric of Cicilline are disgraceful from a man who claims to be concerned with ethics in government, they are (at least) understandable. He has had his chances of gaining the Governor’s office dashed by his inability to successfully settle a simple labor contract with Local 799. He holds a grudge against us and is striking back with everything he can think of – whether or not it is truthful. Your editor’s actions, however, are indefensible. They have a responsibility to the people of this state to report the news as it occurs, not selectively. And although the editorial pages are a place your editors can report opinion, it is still your obligation to use facts to base your claims – not exaggerations, distortions and lies.
Cicilline’s letter stated - “220 members of Local799 earned over $100,000 last year.”
The fact is – at least 210 of these members earned this amount in 2006 ONLY because they received a retroactive pay raise that should have been paid over a 5-year period.
Cicilline’s letter stated – “City residents paid $660,000 in overtime to staff a rescue truck that would have cost no overtime except that provisions in the contract prevent the chief from assigning personnel efficiently.”
The fact is – it cost overtime to staff that rescue because Providence firefighters refused to allow the mayor and the chief to remove firefighters (and thus lessen fire protection) from active fire apparatus. The city is in desperate need of this rescue (and more), but it is our firm belief that it shouldn’t be done at the cost of adequate fire protection.
Cicilline’s letter implies that – Providence has the highest cost for firefighters in the nation.
The fact is – although the urban areas of the Northeast are traditionally (and understandably) the location of the highest cost per resident for fire service, Providence firefighters are not even the highest paid firefighters in the state.
He implies that Providence firefighters are costing the city taxpayers to face tax hikes in their property tax.
The fact is – Providence firefighter’s salaries account for a mere 3.99% of the annual budget of the City of Providence.
He implies that the main stumbling block for firefighters is a refusal to pay health care co-shares.
The fact is – the main stumbling block causing this impasse on the part of Providence firefighters is now, and has always been, the city’s insistence on reducing staffing on fire apparatus and thus putting both firefighters and our citizens in greater danger.
All these facts have been given to the editors of the Providence Journal on numerous occasions. Not only have you chosen not to publish these facts, but you continue to allow Cicilline to state these misrepresentations as fact – that is journalism of the lowest caliber.
Lt. Tom Kenney
Providence Fire Department
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