12/28 – Minding the House while the other crew runs a medical aid.
Minding the Fort (P365)
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Tag Archives: Project 365
Christmas (P365 update)
12/25 – Santa brought the one thing Beth asked for. Woohoo!
12/26 – The perfect storm. There’s lots of snow in the forecast, and I’ve never seen four companies at the Diesel pumps at once.
Also 12/26 – Tea. With the world’s best dog and a camo butterfly sweatshirt.
12/27 – I’ve always loved the Christmas lights on our town common. The leafless trees make them appear to just hang in the air, and a fork in the road makes them visible from afar.
Christmas Eve
The run up is over. It’s time to pour a glass of wine and sit in front of the fire with Mrs. Mack505. Beth has been wonderful today, positively exploding with anticipation.
Merry Christmas to all of our friends and family. We couldn’t have made this year without you.
12/22 – Cold morning at the Mill Yard.
12/23 – Christmas is often about warm, comfortable times with our families. Chai is doing her part.
12/24 – And to All a Good Night! Clarabel looks like we feel. Tomorrow will be worth it, though.
Blue LEDs (P365)
Still Life in Blue, 12/21/10
The first snowfall of the year means the DPW is a bit slow on the draw, and everyone has forgotten how to drive in winter. We’ve been luckier than many local communities thus far.
Hipstamatic (P365)
If you are my age or older, a significant portion of your life was probably documented with an Instamatic camera. Much of my childhood remains captured on ’110′ prints today. While the Instamatic was a marketing breakthrough which brought low-cost photography to the masses, the pictures weren’t really that great.
Today only the technology has changed. It seems that everyone has a cell phone camera, and the pictures still aren’t that great. 35mm SLRs were the gold standard then, and digital SLRs are the gold standard now.
Enter Hipstamatic. If you’re going to take bad pictures with your cell phone, why not be deliberately, funkily bad? Hipstamatic uses a series of interchangeable ‘lenses’, ‘film’, and ‘flashes’ to replicate that old Instamatic look on the iPhone. The interface is even designed to look like an old Instamatic, complete with the tiny viewfinder.
I’m having a bit of fun with it. I’ve already gotten my $1.99 worth.
12/12 Christmas Tree – Hipstamatic with John S lens, Ina’s 1969 film, and Standard flash
12/13 Freese’s Pond – Hipstamatic with John S lens, XGrizzled film, Dreampop flash
Biofuel (P365 12/10)
Last summer, a local fuel oil dealer came up with an advertising gimmick I liked. He equipped one of his old trucks with a billboard body and a bright paint scheme, and he parked it in a highly visible spot. It’s legally registered and parked on private property, but visible from the street.
Of course it didn’t take The City long to object. They made some sort of ruling declaring it illegal and demanded it be removed. The dealer complied.
Recently another dealer has done the same thing, with a boring white step van on another lot. Today I was happy to see that the original truck has returned.
I don’t know if the law has changed, or if Mr. Germinara decided that if the competition was getting away with it, he could too. Either way, I think his advertisement has class. How many other 1963 GMC L-5000′s (It’s ‘V-6 powered!’) have you seen lately?
Ironically, when I stopped to take the picture, I was hauling bio-fuel of my own.
Another ton of wood pellets, on sale.
365 Update (12/8-9)
Cold. (P365 update)
12/3 – Cold afternoon, Merrimac River
12/4 – Sunset over the airfield, Lawrence Airport
12/5 – Hot horse.
12/6 – History lies forgotten on the floor of the firehouse. Box 12 was our last street box and was recently removed for construction. It will return as a master box, but there are no more street boxes in our system.
12/7 – Cold geese on Joppa Flats.
RFB – EGH
Silence. Sun shines, dead leaves rustle in the breeze. Two hundred firefighters stand in straight lines, flanking the driveway to the church. I’m glad I brought my trench coat, as the November day is not as warm as it looks.
The motorcycles and patrol cars have passed, a fine show of respect from our Brothers across the aisle. Limousines, a few private cars, two buses. The lines don’t waver.
Someone with an authoritative voice calls, “Atten-shun!” Backs straight, eyes forward. I watch the patent leather shoes of the firefighter across from me and suddenly wish I’d brought darker sunglasses. There’s nowhere to hide behind my customary orange lenses, and for the next few moments I want to be anywhere but here.
The Voice calls again, “Present arms!” Two hundred hands go up, more or less in unison. I hear it before I see it. The distinctive clatter of a Cummins diesel at idle. Two Cummins. Three.
The lead engine passes slowly, draped in black, warning lights spinning and blinking silently. Behind it, a second engine follows, also draped in black. Its warning lights are covered, blinking a strange purple-black. It idles past, clattering in the way that modern fire engines do, less than an arm’s length away. I’m struck by the ‘W6″ memorial decal in the cab window. Eleven years ago this very week we were mourning six firefighters instead of just one.
The hose bed has been emptied, and it now carries a flag-draped casket. Two firefighters ride the rear step, backs straight, eyes forward; protecting their Brother in the only way left to them. We hold our salutes as the rest of the motorcade passes and remain at attention until the Honor Guard and pallbearers have completed their task.
An hour later we form up again, this time in 50 rows of four. The motorcycles and buses pass, but the engines stop behind us. Slowly, silently we lead the procession past the station, past the spot where it happened, under the ladder arch, and into the cemetery. We line up behind the grave – ten separate honor guards in the front, chiefs behind them, the rest of us in the back – all to the cadence of a lone drummer.
The pallbearers escort the casket to the grave, accompanied by pipe music. Prayers are uttered, the flag is folded. The engine company lines up for their own small remembrance. My heart goes out to all of them, but especially the officer. It’s an officer’s responsibility to bring his guys home safely, but sometimes it’s simply not possible. We’re bringing him home now.
The bagpipes warm up, and I know what comes next. I stare at the neck of the chief in front of me and steel myself. ‘Amazing Grace’ on the pipes flattens me, anytime, anywhere. It’s OK. Everyone feels the same way, and no one is looking. I still wish I had my dark glasses.
The band plays one verse as a solo, one with the full band, and the final verse with one lone piper and drummer receding into the distance.
And then it’s over. “Detail DIS-MISSED.”
Over for me. It’s only beginning for the Rehoboth FD and the family of FF Ken Marshall Jr. God bless them.
Photo update 11/29-12/1
11/29 – Back in the workshop.
11/30 – Jasmine and Chai
12/1 – Cold nights, warm blanket.