This video portrays how both men and women are treated socially after the effects of media on our population here in America. We need to stand together and stop the things our children are growing up to see. Remember, the average watcher of music videos in today's society is age 12. Do you want your son, daughter, niece, nephew, neighborhood kid, or grocery bagger to portray these types of people? Start working towards a change. Watch this video and pass it on to others. Show the members of your book club, church, or PTA. Help begin the change.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JDMo5cIJN3A&feature=fvsr
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Firefighter Becomes Engineer! (Part 2)
Engineer Joshua Graham with his wife, Amanda Graham, and his mother, Chief Ann Graham. So proud! :D
Firefighter Becomes Engineer!
Today was Josh's badge pinning promotion ceremony at North Charleston City Hall! I'm so proud of him and wanted to post some pictures from the moment. Yay Engineer Graham!
Friday, September 10, 2010
The Storm
Hello everyone! I just finished the first draft of my first short story this year and wanted to share it. It's fiction based on reality, meaning I took what I know and wrote a story based on it. It comes to about 14 pages on my Word Processor so make sure you have time to finish it. Also, I would love some constructive critism. Love you all!
The Storm
It was the morning of the anniversary of 9/11 and the radio weatherman was promising a few showers due to the hurricane coming up the coast, a few drops of which fell on the windshield as Anna headed home from the grocery store. The brown paper bags in the backseat were bursting with bacon, eggs, loafs of bread, sausage, butter, jam, syrup and ingredients for pancake mix. As she turned onto her street, Anna noticed the several American flags flapping on the paneled houses surrounding her, meaning that many of her neighbors remembered the events that had passed 9 years ago on this day. Today, in remembrance of the firefighters, police personnel, and many citizens who lost their lives, there would be parades, meals and gatherings in their honor. Despite the cooler temperature this year and the predicted coming showers, nothing had been canceled yet. Hopefully it'll stay that way, Anna prayed as she pulled into her drive.
About a half hour later, groceries in their right places, Anna stirred the frying pan full of eggs, and glanced out the kitchen window and noted by the heavy black clouds rolling into place, that the weatherman had been right about the hurricane off the coast rolling in. John, Anna's husband, and some of the guys from the fire station were due home any minute and Anna planned to treat them with a big breakfast.
Moving around the kitchen she loved as if she could do it in her sleep, Anna made not one error stepping over their two dogs to get to the organized fridge for the grape Smucker's jam and the butter she would lavishly spread over her toast. Anna loved to cook and bake; especially for people. She had the innate talent to look at a recipe, make a few adjustments of her own, and create a fabulous, well, whatever she had made. The firefighters at her husband's station loved her baked goods. Birthdays, holidays and special requests were always mentioned or hinted at in the hopes that Anna's big heart would tempt her to bake a wonderfully decorated cake, or a batch of original cookies, or some other dessert. Most of the time it worked too and Anna would cave and spend a few hours in front of her stove.
The dogs, hearing a distant engine, scrambled up from the rugs on the kitchen floor and raced to the front windows in the formal dining room. All around the house the blinds were always slightly lifted so they could see out of the low windows to greet passerby with a bark, or rush to the window holding a stuffed animal, tails wiggling happily. John entered the house first, and kissed Anna warmly as she met him at the door then stepped aside to let the others in. As the men and their families walked into the house, Jackson, the 3 year old black lab, began to bark and wiggle then raced off to grab his stuffed brown moose, his favorite toy, so he could wrestle with the kids. Rocky, the six month old puppy, overcome by his love of people wasn't really sure what to do, but hurried from person to person licking hands in hello.
In a pack not very different than a small football team, the guys crowded into the kitchen in front of Anna then turned at the sight of the food and gave her quick hugs and raised eyebrows before shifting automatically into a line, ready to consume the masses she had prepared. The women who had children helped them carry their plates along the long counter and they all slowly moved past the warm eggs, steaming piles of sausage and bacon, gently built houses of toast, and delicate stacks of homemade pancakes; each depleting slightly with every passing person. Settling around the table on additional mix-matched chairs, standing at the bar, or sitting in the living room, the group fell silent and looked to John to say a few words about the reason for their morning gathering before the meal was eaten.
“We're here this morning to remember the brothers and sisters we lost in a horrible incident nine years ago this time today,” John began addressing the solemn faces looking at him. “It's important to pay our respects to the people whose bravery and heart in their actions helped this nation see that we should each care for our neighbor selflessly. We should rise each morning with the idea in mind to do something kind for a stranger. We should work to improve the lives surrounding us, and make them happier if we can. I don't want today to become something sad though. Instead, I believe we should all be proud to live and work in this country. Paying tribute and keeping in our hearts those we lost should only be part of what today is about. The other part should be keeping up that tradition. Which I know we all will. Now, thank you Lord for providing us with this meal and my gorgeous wife to cook it for us. Let's eat it before it gets cold.” Anna smiled at John and took her place near him at the table.
Sitting on her right, Mike looked over at Anna, a mischievous look in his eye as he said, “John's right ya know, ya are gorgeous,” in that deep Southern drawl he had. Anna smiled at him squinting her eyes slightly as she pointed out that she was already married.
“Bein' married doesn't mean a woman can't hear she's purdy. In fact, she ought ta be told daily,” Mike proclaimed digging into his stack of pancakes. Mike's wife had passed away a few years ago and though no one really knew his age, it didn't seem to matter. He had the heart of a thirty-year-old and was very fit for however old he was from being a firefighter all his life.
To the background of chitter-chatter and silverware clinking, the household radio, not to mention several on the men's hips, squawked with the dispatchers voices sending out test tones for the morning shift. As Anna finished her plate and stood to refill orange juice glasses and cups of coffee, the sky opened up. It kind of sounded like a percussion band was playing lightly on the roof. Instantly the small children playing with the dogs on the living room floor moaned. In their minds the festivities of the parades filled with balloons, tossed candy and floats had come to a screeching halt.
Anna loved children but sadly couldn't have any herself. John was devastated when they heard the news. She quickly got out the coloring books for them from her secret drawer in the kitchen and moved the photo albums from the coffee table for a work space.
“Gonna be a shit storm,” Mike muttered.
“Maybe,” John replied. “Wonder if they'll continue on with all the plans for today? I'm gonna turn on the weather channel and see what they say.” He rose and moved into the living room near the TV. The guys excused themselves, stood and followed. After a click and a series of button pushing, John, Mike, Curtis, Nick, Ben and Andrew all stood in front of the big screen waiting for the latest on the storm while Sarah, Beth, Tracy and Olivia gave Anna a hand cleaning up the dishes and loading them into the washer.
“The tropical storm has quickly advanced to a Category Three Hurricane. Though it was supposed to continue up the East coast and strike the Northern part of the United States, James has taken a large left turn and looks to hit us dead on. We would like to advise everyone that winds and rain with this storm are very powerful. Hurricane James is expected to reach Charleston fully within two hours. We are encouraging everyone to take this very seriously. All activities and parades planned for today have been canceled. Please remain indoors and take extreme caution when traveling anywhere. If you have the ability to leave, an evacuation is advised but not yet mandatory...” the weatherman was heard through-out the household as everyone stopped and listened.
“Time to go earn some overtime,” Mike smiled and picked up his coat from the front door. John switched the TV off and walked into the kitchen to talk to Anna just as the women came out and began gathering up coats and little ones.
“Thanks for coming everyone. Be safe driving home ladies and we'll see you at the station in a few guys. I think Anna and I will head over to lend an extra hand.” John said more goodbyes and closed the door securely blocking out the roar of the pounding rain.
Closing the last cabinet, Anna turned as John's boots stopped at the doorway of the kitchen. “We heading in?” she casually asked.
“Yep, I think so. You know it'll be chaotic with traffic once the rain hits downtown,” John smiled.
“And people are stupid when they shouldn't be,” Anna added what he left out. “I'll run upstairs and change and then load the gear into the truck in case we need it,” she said as she moved up the back stairs. “You gonna board up the house?”
John smiled at his thoughts. “Yeah, honey. I'll be done in a few minutes. Meet you at the truck. Come on boys, let's go get wet,” John addressed the two muts that had followed him and walked toward the back door to board up the windows.
Throwing on her uniform, Anna packed a bag of extra clothes and socks for them, then downstairs added in a few Ziploc bags of dog food in case it was needed. Grabbing her radio, securing everything breakable, and putting all things of value in the safe, she took one last look around and hit the light switches before locking the door and walking to the truck.
“Howdy ma'am,” John greeted her in his mock cowboy accent as she climbed in the cab. Grinning and shaking her head while he backed down the driveway, Anna just shook out her hair and turned around in the seat to put the orange vests on the dogs so they could be spotted in the downpour.
“I can't believe it's coming down this hard already. It was just supposed to be a few showers today,” Anna half shouted over the water thundering on the roof as they drove down the already flooding streets to the station.
At the top of the Isle of Palms bridge, the view was breath-taking. The sky was every color of blue imaginable as the navy clouds from the hurricane mixed with the bright indigo far in the distance the day should have been. Reflected by the dark, rolling ocean, it would've made a beautiful painting. The opposite side of the bridge, leading off the island, was almost at a dead stand still as the locals knew that even a minor storm could put their houses under water.
The station was buzzing with noise from the volunteers who came in. B-shift had been dispatched to Sullivan’s Island to help out for the duration of the storm but no calls had been made yet except a medical assist to help a wheel-chair bound man and his family into their car so they could drive upstate. Anna whistled to the dogs and helped John unload the truck and bring their supplies in to store in their lockers.
Up on the third floor in the living quarters, the TV's were all turned to the news or weather. Hurricane James was only an hour out but it was already causing damage downtown. Most of the streets were flooded and several of the really old historic homes on the Battery had crumbled under the wind gusts and waves coming up over the concrete barriers. As Andrew entered the room, John turned to him and asked what Olivia was doing with the kids.
“Oh you know her; she's already halfway to her mom's in Georgia. They'll be safe there and at least Corey and Jenny will have more entertainment with their Grandma then in some hotel room,” he told the group.
“I'm sure they'll stay ahead of the storm,” Anna assured him, but before anything else could be added, tones began ringing through the speakers.
The dispatchers female voice came very clearly into the silent room, “Attention station one, attention station one. The police station is requesting assistance with the placement of sand bags in the dunes. Please meet them at 23rd Street as soon as possible.”
“Copy. Enroute with Truck One,” Nick replied into his radio. He, Curtis and Ben left the room quickly down the back hallway.
“I think we should secure things here,” John announced. “If the hurricane is strong enough, the sand bags on top of the dunes won't stop the waves and rain from easily flooding the island. Half the cops are helping with the traffic off the island and the other half are on sand bag patrol with Truck One. That leaves us for any emergencies that occur. We should be prepared to leave the station to hold up against the storm on its own.”
“Sounds like a plan. The shutters are already up and the flood doors are down, but it would be smart to prepare the Engine and extra trucks for anything that could possibly come up. Plus we'll definitely need the boats and jet skis in a few hours.”
John smiled over at his wife. “Let's go then.”
***
Another hour later everyone was back and the storm was officially in Charleston County. Most of Isle of Palms had been abandoned except for the few families that had barricaded their houses like forts and were determined, against advice, to stick it out. Several crazy surfers had been pulled out by the tide and brought back in with the help of firefighters. The Northern end of the Island, up in Wild Dunes, was mostly under two feet of water already while the Southern part of the island was in a water cyclone as sea water and rain clashed under and around the small bridge to Sullivan's Island. The police station had sent their patrolmen out to make sure that everyone remaining on IOP was escorted from their homes to Mount Pleasant for their safety, whether they wanted to leave or not. After they finish, the cops are free to go home to their families.
At the fire station, the bay was locked up tight and everyone was up on the third floor watching the storm rage out at sea and keeping up with the rest of the state via news channels. The first floor was slightly flooded with a few inches of water but so far, the flood doors were holding up very well.
“I think I’m going to bake a cake,” Anna announced exiting the room down the hall that lead to the kitchen. Following her, John put an arm on her shoulder as she began to open cabinets.
“Uh, babe? I’m not really sure it’s cake-baking time,” John tried to casually mention.
“What do you want me to do? Stand around and wait for a call? No one is on the island. I don’t think it’s fun to watch people lose their houses.” Anna pulled ingredients from the shelves and composed them on the tiles.
“I don’t either.” John struggled for the right words to say to her. Looking at her back he finally spoke. “Anna, you know it’s not like that. No one wants a hurricane to come and knock down their house, but it happens. It’s not entertaining. All we can do is help them through it and make sure everyone is safe.”
Turning around to face him, Anna cocked her head and rebutted. “What about your safety John? How am I supposed to believe that you’ll always come home when I’m here and I’ve seen some of the crazy things you do?” She spun toward the counter again and cracked open an egg.
John sighed behind her. “I know we do stupid things sometimes. But I am safe. You have to believe that Anna. I didn’t make Lieutenant for nothing.” With a quick movement of his heal he was strolling away from her, out of the kitchen.
“He’s right honey,” Mike hadn’t been listening in, but he caught the last part of the conversation and knew about Anna’s worries. He and his wife had had the same discussion many times over the years. “Ya just gotta trust him. He loves you and he wouldn’t want ya to be alone. That’s enough to keep a man careful, trust me.” Mike turned and left the room.
Anna’s shoulders dropped and she rolled her head around in a circle to stretch her neck. Midway around the second circle, eyes cast up at the ceiling, Anna inhaled sharply. “Oh crap….Oh crap! John! Guys! Get in here!”
Heavy footfalls and then they surrounded her all looking up at the dark, spreading water mark on the space above them. “When do you think it started?” Curtis asked.
“Must’ve been within the last few hours. It wasn’t there this morning,” Nick said.
“I’ll go get a ladder so we can check it out.” Ben hurried from the room, the door shutting firmly behind him.
“Anna, can you move this stuff please?” Andrew loved her cakes, but now definitely wasn’t the time. “Thanks for catching it too.”
“No prob. Just wanted to distract myself for a bit and pass the time.” As soon as the words left Anna’s mouth, the lights flickered then went out. “I should have guessed the power would go out and there would be no way to cook it,” she chuckled at herself. Luckily, the backup generators powered that wing in case of such emergencies and after a moment the lights flickered back on, but at a dimmer setting.
The door to the other side of the kitchen opened again and Ben entered carrying the ladder. Already the water mark was three times larger and dripping steadily. He hastened to set it up under the mark then climbed up while being spattered on the head. While Nick and John steadied him, gripping the ladder and his ankles, Ben reached up touching the wet board of the drop-ceiling.
“There’s pressure here. Want me to lift it or leave it?” Ben asked the Chief.
“We have to fix whatever is wrong. Push it up and out of the way,” Nick directed him.
“O-a-kay, you’re a da boss,” Ben joked in an Italian accent. He pushed upward on the board which crumbled against his pressure and let lose an icy wave from the ceiling down onto them all, knocking Ben, John and Nick to the floor.
“You alright kid?”
“I’m good Chief,” Ben reassured him. “Kinda surfed on down.”
It was steadily raining from the opening in the ceiling down on them all and several of the other particle boards were now also darkening. Nick leaned forward and looked up to the ceiling. “Well, this wasn’t planned for. It looks like several of the roofing tiles have been removed.”
“What do you mean?” Anna asked. “There’s no roof?”
“No, there’s a roof, but large pieces of it are missing and we don’t have any boards here to fix it.”
“Tarp won’t hold either with this wind,” John added. They could distantly hear it whistling around the missing pieces of roof. “Not that we have any way to get up there in this storm to fix anything anyway.”
“So we’ll just set up a way to empty the water as it comes in,” Ben suggested. “Buckets and pots ya know?”
“We couldn’t keep that up for hours Ben, but it’s a nice thought. We need to get our gear and evacuate.” The lights flickered again. “Everyone, suit up, grab supplies and get down to the trucks. It’s gonna be tough driving off the island without flooding out but we don’t have any choice if the place is going to fill.”
***
“Come on boys!” Anna called the dogs from the couches in the other room and rushed off toward the hall in two inches of water.
“Take it easy! If you fall and break your ankle, you’ll regret it,” John advised her. Together, they made their way down the slippery hall past the firefighters in their rooms gathering their bags. Opening the door to the metal mesh stairs that lead to the first floor and bay, Anna stopped instantly, John walking into her back.
“Is that water? John, the first floor is flooded!”
“This day is getting worse by the minute. Chief!” John called out to Nick down the hall. “The first floor is filled three feet of water! I wouldn’t worry about grabbing changes of socks; we need to get out of here fast!”
The Chief appeared in the doorway closest to them. “Please tell me you’re joking.” Not waiting for an answer, he stuck his head around the corner and instantly reached to his waistband for a radio. “Looks like the flood doors failed. 601 to Dispatch,” he relayed. There was no response. “601 to Dispatch.” Once again there was no reply. “I guess the radio channels are out. We’re on our own people.”
“We know you can handle this, Chief,” Anna spoke calmly. “What should we do?”
“Let’s leave everything that isn’t necessary and load into the boats and onto the jet skis immediately,” the Chief addressed the group that had gathered in the hall and on the stairs to gaze at the cold water two floors below them. “Move people!” He barked at them and everyone scrambled down the stairs.
Anna scooped up the puppy and watched her step as she hurried down. At the halfway landing between the first and second floors, John stepped into the rising cool water and ordered Jackson to stay with him. Together they waded over to the nearest boat around the sad looking and useless fire engines in the bay. Anna handed Rocky to John as she approached the boat and set their pack under the seat to keep it as dry as possible after she lifted herself in. Ben, Andrew and Curtis were in the boat closest to the flood doors, and both Nick and Mike were ready on jet skis. Anna undid the tarp she had grabbed and wrapped it around the four of them to protect them from the most of the wind and piercing rain. This may be the stupidest thing they ever did, but as she glanced around the bay, she noticed the large cracks in the concrete walls where rain was dripping through, she decided that they didn’t really have a choice.
Nick signaled them to follow and headed to the nearest flood door. Hopping off the jet ski and into the mixture of salt and rain water, he undid the flood doors and opened them to the fierceness of the hurricane. Wind whipped the tops of trees around like children fling clappers back and forth at a birthday party and the rain poured from the sky.
“The goal is the bridge,” he shouted at them. “We’ll make it there and we’ll hold fort til the eye. Once the eye breaks, we can make for Mount Pleasant across the marsh.”
Like turtles headed out to sea, they moved slowly in a zigzagging line down JC Long Blvd against the swirling wind. Tiny people huddled up against the storm in their boats being tossed around as they fought their way forward. The flashlights on each boat flickered. Anna couldn’t stop thinking about how surreal this situation was. She couldn’t see the road because of the feet of water covering the entire island. It was so unnatural to see only half the gas station and the roofs of all the abandoned cars on the street. They turned, passing straight by the useless stop sign, and felt a small sense of relief at being halfway there.
Out of nowhere a large gust of wind caught up under the tarp that Anna held around herself, the dogs and John. The corner in her left hand flew out of her grasp and flapped up, back and forth in the torrents of air. Instantly, automatically, Anna flung her fingers out in reach for it and her momentum threw her over the metal edge of the launch and into the cold currents.
“Anna!” John instantly stopped heading toward the bridge and followed her bobbing head. Thought the water wasn’t very deep, it was flowing over the island in waves making it difficult to stand up and impossible to walk. “Try to grab something!”
Already halfway down the block, Anna struggled to swim in the four foot high water to the left side of the street so she could grab one of the many signs in the parking lot of the post office. Already she passed the vacant lot on the left of the post office but after a lot of struggling and feeling like a fish swimming upstream, she was able to grab ahold of the “Buckle Up” sign at the exit. The metal bit into her palms and curled fingers but Anna held on tightly, refusing to let go. She couldn’t hear anything but the rush of the water and the wind and rain pushing into her eardrums. Finally being able to look around, Anna saw that John knew where she was but the others continued on unaware. Anna and John had been the last in the line up from the station. With no radios and the storm’s noise, no one would be able to hear them shouting.
John was coming to her quickly in the current and shouting something inaudible. He was able to maneuver slightly more easily using the boat’s motor and anchored himself in the vacant lot up the road from Anna. He held up a rope and made a motion to show her he was going to throw it to her. At the slightly awkward position she had of attempting to stand up by hugging the pole and wrapping her ankles around it, Anna was able to release one hand to prepare to grab the rope while still holding the sign with the other. She looked at John and nodded her head once to indicate that she was ready. She watched as his arm went back and the rope came flying at her. John knew to tie a knot at the end of the rope to make sure it went where he wanted and Anna stretched her hand out catching it as it splashed into the water.
She held it up so that he could see his toss was perfect and slowly, carefully, tied it around her waist and let go of the sign. Holding tight to the rope, Anna continued to place one hand in front of the other, pulling herself forward while John reeled her in, until at last she was at the boat. He grabbed her and pulled her up, flopping her in like a wet fish. They didn’t even feel the sting of rain anymore. They looked at each other for one moment, seated, soaking wet in the middle of a hurricane, and smiled. John cranked the motor propelling them forward back up the waves along Palm, back toward the bridge.
They held hands as the boat squeezed between the beaten trees and side of the bridge spotting the other firemen anchored to the center under the hump out of the worst of the storm. Together, they would all wait for the eye of the storm and then push forward again, to safety and Mount Pleasant.
The Storm
It was the morning of the anniversary of 9/11 and the radio weatherman was promising a few showers due to the hurricane coming up the coast, a few drops of which fell on the windshield as Anna headed home from the grocery store. The brown paper bags in the backseat were bursting with bacon, eggs, loafs of bread, sausage, butter, jam, syrup and ingredients for pancake mix. As she turned onto her street, Anna noticed the several American flags flapping on the paneled houses surrounding her, meaning that many of her neighbors remembered the events that had passed 9 years ago on this day. Today, in remembrance of the firefighters, police personnel, and many citizens who lost their lives, there would be parades, meals and gatherings in their honor. Despite the cooler temperature this year and the predicted coming showers, nothing had been canceled yet. Hopefully it'll stay that way, Anna prayed as she pulled into her drive.
About a half hour later, groceries in their right places, Anna stirred the frying pan full of eggs, and glanced out the kitchen window and noted by the heavy black clouds rolling into place, that the weatherman had been right about the hurricane off the coast rolling in. John, Anna's husband, and some of the guys from the fire station were due home any minute and Anna planned to treat them with a big breakfast.
Moving around the kitchen she loved as if she could do it in her sleep, Anna made not one error stepping over their two dogs to get to the organized fridge for the grape Smucker's jam and the butter she would lavishly spread over her toast. Anna loved to cook and bake; especially for people. She had the innate talent to look at a recipe, make a few adjustments of her own, and create a fabulous, well, whatever she had made. The firefighters at her husband's station loved her baked goods. Birthdays, holidays and special requests were always mentioned or hinted at in the hopes that Anna's big heart would tempt her to bake a wonderfully decorated cake, or a batch of original cookies, or some other dessert. Most of the time it worked too and Anna would cave and spend a few hours in front of her stove.
The dogs, hearing a distant engine, scrambled up from the rugs on the kitchen floor and raced to the front windows in the formal dining room. All around the house the blinds were always slightly lifted so they could see out of the low windows to greet passerby with a bark, or rush to the window holding a stuffed animal, tails wiggling happily. John entered the house first, and kissed Anna warmly as she met him at the door then stepped aside to let the others in. As the men and their families walked into the house, Jackson, the 3 year old black lab, began to bark and wiggle then raced off to grab his stuffed brown moose, his favorite toy, so he could wrestle with the kids. Rocky, the six month old puppy, overcome by his love of people wasn't really sure what to do, but hurried from person to person licking hands in hello.
In a pack not very different than a small football team, the guys crowded into the kitchen in front of Anna then turned at the sight of the food and gave her quick hugs and raised eyebrows before shifting automatically into a line, ready to consume the masses she had prepared. The women who had children helped them carry their plates along the long counter and they all slowly moved past the warm eggs, steaming piles of sausage and bacon, gently built houses of toast, and delicate stacks of homemade pancakes; each depleting slightly with every passing person. Settling around the table on additional mix-matched chairs, standing at the bar, or sitting in the living room, the group fell silent and looked to John to say a few words about the reason for their morning gathering before the meal was eaten.
“We're here this morning to remember the brothers and sisters we lost in a horrible incident nine years ago this time today,” John began addressing the solemn faces looking at him. “It's important to pay our respects to the people whose bravery and heart in their actions helped this nation see that we should each care for our neighbor selflessly. We should rise each morning with the idea in mind to do something kind for a stranger. We should work to improve the lives surrounding us, and make them happier if we can. I don't want today to become something sad though. Instead, I believe we should all be proud to live and work in this country. Paying tribute and keeping in our hearts those we lost should only be part of what today is about. The other part should be keeping up that tradition. Which I know we all will. Now, thank you Lord for providing us with this meal and my gorgeous wife to cook it for us. Let's eat it before it gets cold.” Anna smiled at John and took her place near him at the table.
Sitting on her right, Mike looked over at Anna, a mischievous look in his eye as he said, “John's right ya know, ya are gorgeous,” in that deep Southern drawl he had. Anna smiled at him squinting her eyes slightly as she pointed out that she was already married.
“Bein' married doesn't mean a woman can't hear she's purdy. In fact, she ought ta be told daily,” Mike proclaimed digging into his stack of pancakes. Mike's wife had passed away a few years ago and though no one really knew his age, it didn't seem to matter. He had the heart of a thirty-year-old and was very fit for however old he was from being a firefighter all his life.
To the background of chitter-chatter and silverware clinking, the household radio, not to mention several on the men's hips, squawked with the dispatchers voices sending out test tones for the morning shift. As Anna finished her plate and stood to refill orange juice glasses and cups of coffee, the sky opened up. It kind of sounded like a percussion band was playing lightly on the roof. Instantly the small children playing with the dogs on the living room floor moaned. In their minds the festivities of the parades filled with balloons, tossed candy and floats had come to a screeching halt.
Anna loved children but sadly couldn't have any herself. John was devastated when they heard the news. She quickly got out the coloring books for them from her secret drawer in the kitchen and moved the photo albums from the coffee table for a work space.
“Gonna be a shit storm,” Mike muttered.
“Maybe,” John replied. “Wonder if they'll continue on with all the plans for today? I'm gonna turn on the weather channel and see what they say.” He rose and moved into the living room near the TV. The guys excused themselves, stood and followed. After a click and a series of button pushing, John, Mike, Curtis, Nick, Ben and Andrew all stood in front of the big screen waiting for the latest on the storm while Sarah, Beth, Tracy and Olivia gave Anna a hand cleaning up the dishes and loading them into the washer.
“The tropical storm has quickly advanced to a Category Three Hurricane. Though it was supposed to continue up the East coast and strike the Northern part of the United States, James has taken a large left turn and looks to hit us dead on. We would like to advise everyone that winds and rain with this storm are very powerful. Hurricane James is expected to reach Charleston fully within two hours. We are encouraging everyone to take this very seriously. All activities and parades planned for today have been canceled. Please remain indoors and take extreme caution when traveling anywhere. If you have the ability to leave, an evacuation is advised but not yet mandatory...” the weatherman was heard through-out the household as everyone stopped and listened.
“Time to go earn some overtime,” Mike smiled and picked up his coat from the front door. John switched the TV off and walked into the kitchen to talk to Anna just as the women came out and began gathering up coats and little ones.
“Thanks for coming everyone. Be safe driving home ladies and we'll see you at the station in a few guys. I think Anna and I will head over to lend an extra hand.” John said more goodbyes and closed the door securely blocking out the roar of the pounding rain.
Closing the last cabinet, Anna turned as John's boots stopped at the doorway of the kitchen. “We heading in?” she casually asked.
“Yep, I think so. You know it'll be chaotic with traffic once the rain hits downtown,” John smiled.
“And people are stupid when they shouldn't be,” Anna added what he left out. “I'll run upstairs and change and then load the gear into the truck in case we need it,” she said as she moved up the back stairs. “You gonna board up the house?”
John smiled at his thoughts. “Yeah, honey. I'll be done in a few minutes. Meet you at the truck. Come on boys, let's go get wet,” John addressed the two muts that had followed him and walked toward the back door to board up the windows.
Throwing on her uniform, Anna packed a bag of extra clothes and socks for them, then downstairs added in a few Ziploc bags of dog food in case it was needed. Grabbing her radio, securing everything breakable, and putting all things of value in the safe, she took one last look around and hit the light switches before locking the door and walking to the truck.
“Howdy ma'am,” John greeted her in his mock cowboy accent as she climbed in the cab. Grinning and shaking her head while he backed down the driveway, Anna just shook out her hair and turned around in the seat to put the orange vests on the dogs so they could be spotted in the downpour.
“I can't believe it's coming down this hard already. It was just supposed to be a few showers today,” Anna half shouted over the water thundering on the roof as they drove down the already flooding streets to the station.
At the top of the Isle of Palms bridge, the view was breath-taking. The sky was every color of blue imaginable as the navy clouds from the hurricane mixed with the bright indigo far in the distance the day should have been. Reflected by the dark, rolling ocean, it would've made a beautiful painting. The opposite side of the bridge, leading off the island, was almost at a dead stand still as the locals knew that even a minor storm could put their houses under water.
The station was buzzing with noise from the volunteers who came in. B-shift had been dispatched to Sullivan’s Island to help out for the duration of the storm but no calls had been made yet except a medical assist to help a wheel-chair bound man and his family into their car so they could drive upstate. Anna whistled to the dogs and helped John unload the truck and bring their supplies in to store in their lockers.
Up on the third floor in the living quarters, the TV's were all turned to the news or weather. Hurricane James was only an hour out but it was already causing damage downtown. Most of the streets were flooded and several of the really old historic homes on the Battery had crumbled under the wind gusts and waves coming up over the concrete barriers. As Andrew entered the room, John turned to him and asked what Olivia was doing with the kids.
“Oh you know her; she's already halfway to her mom's in Georgia. They'll be safe there and at least Corey and Jenny will have more entertainment with their Grandma then in some hotel room,” he told the group.
“I'm sure they'll stay ahead of the storm,” Anna assured him, but before anything else could be added, tones began ringing through the speakers.
The dispatchers female voice came very clearly into the silent room, “Attention station one, attention station one. The police station is requesting assistance with the placement of sand bags in the dunes. Please meet them at 23rd Street as soon as possible.”
“Copy. Enroute with Truck One,” Nick replied into his radio. He, Curtis and Ben left the room quickly down the back hallway.
“I think we should secure things here,” John announced. “If the hurricane is strong enough, the sand bags on top of the dunes won't stop the waves and rain from easily flooding the island. Half the cops are helping with the traffic off the island and the other half are on sand bag patrol with Truck One. That leaves us for any emergencies that occur. We should be prepared to leave the station to hold up against the storm on its own.”
“Sounds like a plan. The shutters are already up and the flood doors are down, but it would be smart to prepare the Engine and extra trucks for anything that could possibly come up. Plus we'll definitely need the boats and jet skis in a few hours.”
John smiled over at his wife. “Let's go then.”
***
Another hour later everyone was back and the storm was officially in Charleston County. Most of Isle of Palms had been abandoned except for the few families that had barricaded their houses like forts and were determined, against advice, to stick it out. Several crazy surfers had been pulled out by the tide and brought back in with the help of firefighters. The Northern end of the Island, up in Wild Dunes, was mostly under two feet of water already while the Southern part of the island was in a water cyclone as sea water and rain clashed under and around the small bridge to Sullivan's Island. The police station had sent their patrolmen out to make sure that everyone remaining on IOP was escorted from their homes to Mount Pleasant for their safety, whether they wanted to leave or not. After they finish, the cops are free to go home to their families.
At the fire station, the bay was locked up tight and everyone was up on the third floor watching the storm rage out at sea and keeping up with the rest of the state via news channels. The first floor was slightly flooded with a few inches of water but so far, the flood doors were holding up very well.
“I think I’m going to bake a cake,” Anna announced exiting the room down the hall that lead to the kitchen. Following her, John put an arm on her shoulder as she began to open cabinets.
“Uh, babe? I’m not really sure it’s cake-baking time,” John tried to casually mention.
“What do you want me to do? Stand around and wait for a call? No one is on the island. I don’t think it’s fun to watch people lose their houses.” Anna pulled ingredients from the shelves and composed them on the tiles.
“I don’t either.” John struggled for the right words to say to her. Looking at her back he finally spoke. “Anna, you know it’s not like that. No one wants a hurricane to come and knock down their house, but it happens. It’s not entertaining. All we can do is help them through it and make sure everyone is safe.”
Turning around to face him, Anna cocked her head and rebutted. “What about your safety John? How am I supposed to believe that you’ll always come home when I’m here and I’ve seen some of the crazy things you do?” She spun toward the counter again and cracked open an egg.
John sighed behind her. “I know we do stupid things sometimes. But I am safe. You have to believe that Anna. I didn’t make Lieutenant for nothing.” With a quick movement of his heal he was strolling away from her, out of the kitchen.
“He’s right honey,” Mike hadn’t been listening in, but he caught the last part of the conversation and knew about Anna’s worries. He and his wife had had the same discussion many times over the years. “Ya just gotta trust him. He loves you and he wouldn’t want ya to be alone. That’s enough to keep a man careful, trust me.” Mike turned and left the room.
Anna’s shoulders dropped and she rolled her head around in a circle to stretch her neck. Midway around the second circle, eyes cast up at the ceiling, Anna inhaled sharply. “Oh crap….Oh crap! John! Guys! Get in here!”
Heavy footfalls and then they surrounded her all looking up at the dark, spreading water mark on the space above them. “When do you think it started?” Curtis asked.
“Must’ve been within the last few hours. It wasn’t there this morning,” Nick said.
“I’ll go get a ladder so we can check it out.” Ben hurried from the room, the door shutting firmly behind him.
“Anna, can you move this stuff please?” Andrew loved her cakes, but now definitely wasn’t the time. “Thanks for catching it too.”
“No prob. Just wanted to distract myself for a bit and pass the time.” As soon as the words left Anna’s mouth, the lights flickered then went out. “I should have guessed the power would go out and there would be no way to cook it,” she chuckled at herself. Luckily, the backup generators powered that wing in case of such emergencies and after a moment the lights flickered back on, but at a dimmer setting.
The door to the other side of the kitchen opened again and Ben entered carrying the ladder. Already the water mark was three times larger and dripping steadily. He hastened to set it up under the mark then climbed up while being spattered on the head. While Nick and John steadied him, gripping the ladder and his ankles, Ben reached up touching the wet board of the drop-ceiling.
“There’s pressure here. Want me to lift it or leave it?” Ben asked the Chief.
“We have to fix whatever is wrong. Push it up and out of the way,” Nick directed him.
“O-a-kay, you’re a da boss,” Ben joked in an Italian accent. He pushed upward on the board which crumbled against his pressure and let lose an icy wave from the ceiling down onto them all, knocking Ben, John and Nick to the floor.
“You alright kid?”
“I’m good Chief,” Ben reassured him. “Kinda surfed on down.”
It was steadily raining from the opening in the ceiling down on them all and several of the other particle boards were now also darkening. Nick leaned forward and looked up to the ceiling. “Well, this wasn’t planned for. It looks like several of the roofing tiles have been removed.”
“What do you mean?” Anna asked. “There’s no roof?”
“No, there’s a roof, but large pieces of it are missing and we don’t have any boards here to fix it.”
“Tarp won’t hold either with this wind,” John added. They could distantly hear it whistling around the missing pieces of roof. “Not that we have any way to get up there in this storm to fix anything anyway.”
“So we’ll just set up a way to empty the water as it comes in,” Ben suggested. “Buckets and pots ya know?”
“We couldn’t keep that up for hours Ben, but it’s a nice thought. We need to get our gear and evacuate.” The lights flickered again. “Everyone, suit up, grab supplies and get down to the trucks. It’s gonna be tough driving off the island without flooding out but we don’t have any choice if the place is going to fill.”
***
“Come on boys!” Anna called the dogs from the couches in the other room and rushed off toward the hall in two inches of water.
“Take it easy! If you fall and break your ankle, you’ll regret it,” John advised her. Together, they made their way down the slippery hall past the firefighters in their rooms gathering their bags. Opening the door to the metal mesh stairs that lead to the first floor and bay, Anna stopped instantly, John walking into her back.
“Is that water? John, the first floor is flooded!”
“This day is getting worse by the minute. Chief!” John called out to Nick down the hall. “The first floor is filled three feet of water! I wouldn’t worry about grabbing changes of socks; we need to get out of here fast!”
The Chief appeared in the doorway closest to them. “Please tell me you’re joking.” Not waiting for an answer, he stuck his head around the corner and instantly reached to his waistband for a radio. “Looks like the flood doors failed. 601 to Dispatch,” he relayed. There was no response. “601 to Dispatch.” Once again there was no reply. “I guess the radio channels are out. We’re on our own people.”
“We know you can handle this, Chief,” Anna spoke calmly. “What should we do?”
“Let’s leave everything that isn’t necessary and load into the boats and onto the jet skis immediately,” the Chief addressed the group that had gathered in the hall and on the stairs to gaze at the cold water two floors below them. “Move people!” He barked at them and everyone scrambled down the stairs.
Anna scooped up the puppy and watched her step as she hurried down. At the halfway landing between the first and second floors, John stepped into the rising cool water and ordered Jackson to stay with him. Together they waded over to the nearest boat around the sad looking and useless fire engines in the bay. Anna handed Rocky to John as she approached the boat and set their pack under the seat to keep it as dry as possible after she lifted herself in. Ben, Andrew and Curtis were in the boat closest to the flood doors, and both Nick and Mike were ready on jet skis. Anna undid the tarp she had grabbed and wrapped it around the four of them to protect them from the most of the wind and piercing rain. This may be the stupidest thing they ever did, but as she glanced around the bay, she noticed the large cracks in the concrete walls where rain was dripping through, she decided that they didn’t really have a choice.
Nick signaled them to follow and headed to the nearest flood door. Hopping off the jet ski and into the mixture of salt and rain water, he undid the flood doors and opened them to the fierceness of the hurricane. Wind whipped the tops of trees around like children fling clappers back and forth at a birthday party and the rain poured from the sky.
“The goal is the bridge,” he shouted at them. “We’ll make it there and we’ll hold fort til the eye. Once the eye breaks, we can make for Mount Pleasant across the marsh.”
Like turtles headed out to sea, they moved slowly in a zigzagging line down JC Long Blvd against the swirling wind. Tiny people huddled up against the storm in their boats being tossed around as they fought their way forward. The flashlights on each boat flickered. Anna couldn’t stop thinking about how surreal this situation was. She couldn’t see the road because of the feet of water covering the entire island. It was so unnatural to see only half the gas station and the roofs of all the abandoned cars on the street. They turned, passing straight by the useless stop sign, and felt a small sense of relief at being halfway there.
Out of nowhere a large gust of wind caught up under the tarp that Anna held around herself, the dogs and John. The corner in her left hand flew out of her grasp and flapped up, back and forth in the torrents of air. Instantly, automatically, Anna flung her fingers out in reach for it and her momentum threw her over the metal edge of the launch and into the cold currents.
“Anna!” John instantly stopped heading toward the bridge and followed her bobbing head. Thought the water wasn’t very deep, it was flowing over the island in waves making it difficult to stand up and impossible to walk. “Try to grab something!”
Already halfway down the block, Anna struggled to swim in the four foot high water to the left side of the street so she could grab one of the many signs in the parking lot of the post office. Already she passed the vacant lot on the left of the post office but after a lot of struggling and feeling like a fish swimming upstream, she was able to grab ahold of the “Buckle Up” sign at the exit. The metal bit into her palms and curled fingers but Anna held on tightly, refusing to let go. She couldn’t hear anything but the rush of the water and the wind and rain pushing into her eardrums. Finally being able to look around, Anna saw that John knew where she was but the others continued on unaware. Anna and John had been the last in the line up from the station. With no radios and the storm’s noise, no one would be able to hear them shouting.
John was coming to her quickly in the current and shouting something inaudible. He was able to maneuver slightly more easily using the boat’s motor and anchored himself in the vacant lot up the road from Anna. He held up a rope and made a motion to show her he was going to throw it to her. At the slightly awkward position she had of attempting to stand up by hugging the pole and wrapping her ankles around it, Anna was able to release one hand to prepare to grab the rope while still holding the sign with the other. She looked at John and nodded her head once to indicate that she was ready. She watched as his arm went back and the rope came flying at her. John knew to tie a knot at the end of the rope to make sure it went where he wanted and Anna stretched her hand out catching it as it splashed into the water.
She held it up so that he could see his toss was perfect and slowly, carefully, tied it around her waist and let go of the sign. Holding tight to the rope, Anna continued to place one hand in front of the other, pulling herself forward while John reeled her in, until at last she was at the boat. He grabbed her and pulled her up, flopping her in like a wet fish. They didn’t even feel the sting of rain anymore. They looked at each other for one moment, seated, soaking wet in the middle of a hurricane, and smiled. John cranked the motor propelling them forward back up the waves along Palm, back toward the bridge.
They held hands as the boat squeezed between the beaten trees and side of the bridge spotting the other firemen anchored to the center under the hump out of the worst of the storm. Together, they would all wait for the eye of the storm and then push forward again, to safety and Mount Pleasant.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
The Writer
Today I was inspired by myself. Ha, that sounds funny. Well here is the poem that I spit out while working on my short story. Enjoy.
The Writer
My fingers move across keys much like a pianists,
Click click to backspace, tap tap tap creating words.
Striking letters to make pages instead of turning them.
The cursor blinks tauntingly up at me, black against white.
It tells me that the story isn't over, there is always more to say.
I create characters, places, plots and trouble.
I entice the reader, you, to look at my words,
Absorb their meaning, and care about the characters.
They become your friends as you root for them to win,
Your enemies as you wish for their defeat.
Conflict arises and your heartstrings tug, your throat constricts,
Your eyes move quickly across the page, growing wide,
You hope the outcome is how you want it.
The last page is near, the cliff hanger is here,
I write as you read, and the story ends.
You feel a sense of wonder, and I feel accomplished.
The Writer
My fingers move across keys much like a pianists,
Click click to backspace, tap tap tap creating words.
Striking letters to make pages instead of turning them.
The cursor blinks tauntingly up at me, black against white.
It tells me that the story isn't over, there is always more to say.
I create characters, places, plots and trouble.
I entice the reader, you, to look at my words,
Absorb their meaning, and care about the characters.
They become your friends as you root for them to win,
Your enemies as you wish for their defeat.
Conflict arises and your heartstrings tug, your throat constricts,
Your eyes move quickly across the page, growing wide,
You hope the outcome is how you want it.
The last page is near, the cliff hanger is here,
I write as you read, and the story ends.
You feel a sense of wonder, and I feel accomplished.
Friday, September 3, 2010
The Mountain Trip
Alright guys, I had to write a page of a short story for my Fiction Writing class. We had to take one of three senarios (1.Drag a body down the beach, 2.A wife watches her husband be attacked by a bear, 3.Find a body in the woods). The trick is that we had to write the actual topic in a "cold" demeanor. Tell me what you think of mine...
A quarter mile away from where her parents had set up lunch, the trees grew thick and dark, and the ground was damp and cool. Ali climbed up on a large, oval-shaped white rock to better see ahead of her. Her parents had decided to go hiking and camping as a way for them to bond with her for the weekend. Ali wasn't ecstatic about going, but at least she could breathe outside. Her younger brother had been kidnapped three years ago when he was eight and it tore her family apart. Though Ali still missed him and worried about him, her parents were crushing her to death with their concern about her. Turning on top of the great rock, Ali decided to walk towards the stream. She watched squirrels chase each other and dance up the tall pines, hearing the gravel trail and fallen pine straw crunch under her walking sneakers. Breathing deep and glancing up through the leaves at the sky, Ali felt alone for the first time in a long time. It felt glorious. Reaching the trembling brook, Ali sat down by the water's edge and began to pull off her sneakers and socks so that she could dip her feet into the coolness.
Stripping off her pack and leaving it near her shoes, she began to walk downstream a bit over the smooth stones thinking about what life would be like if David had never been taken, about the normal life she'd have. About fifty feet from her bag, Ali almost fell sliding on a slick rock. I have to stop daydreaming she scolded herself. Looking down to pull her foot from the mud she had sunken into Ali decided to turn back before she hurt herself.
Twisting back around carefully, she saw his face first, swollen and just above the water. The eyes, the black large eyes, frozen wide and set deep in the greenish glow of his skull. He lay belly up in the creek, his spine twisted around his pack, limbs spread at impossible angles. Flesh was torn from the left side of his face, but the dark blood that would've run from the crevasses was long gone in the current. The jeans and sweatshirt he wore was torn in places and stained blotchy with black mud. The shoe from his bent right foot was a bright burgundy and looked like it had been for a while.
Ali was so shocked she had walked right by him around the bend without noticing, the thought to scream or call for help was delayed a full minute as she tried to convince herself she wasn't seeing what was right in front of her. “MOM! DAD! HELP!” Ali yelled as she found her voice...
Would you want to keep reading this? Did I portray finding the body in a "cold" way? Is there anything you can think of to improve it? Thanks! Love you! :)
A quarter mile away from where her parents had set up lunch, the trees grew thick and dark, and the ground was damp and cool. Ali climbed up on a large, oval-shaped white rock to better see ahead of her. Her parents had decided to go hiking and camping as a way for them to bond with her for the weekend. Ali wasn't ecstatic about going, but at least she could breathe outside. Her younger brother had been kidnapped three years ago when he was eight and it tore her family apart. Though Ali still missed him and worried about him, her parents were crushing her to death with their concern about her. Turning on top of the great rock, Ali decided to walk towards the stream. She watched squirrels chase each other and dance up the tall pines, hearing the gravel trail and fallen pine straw crunch under her walking sneakers. Breathing deep and glancing up through the leaves at the sky, Ali felt alone for the first time in a long time. It felt glorious. Reaching the trembling brook, Ali sat down by the water's edge and began to pull off her sneakers and socks so that she could dip her feet into the coolness.
Stripping off her pack and leaving it near her shoes, she began to walk downstream a bit over the smooth stones thinking about what life would be like if David had never been taken, about the normal life she'd have. About fifty feet from her bag, Ali almost fell sliding on a slick rock. I have to stop daydreaming she scolded herself. Looking down to pull her foot from the mud she had sunken into Ali decided to turn back before she hurt herself.
Twisting back around carefully, she saw his face first, swollen and just above the water. The eyes, the black large eyes, frozen wide and set deep in the greenish glow of his skull. He lay belly up in the creek, his spine twisted around his pack, limbs spread at impossible angles. Flesh was torn from the left side of his face, but the dark blood that would've run from the crevasses was long gone in the current. The jeans and sweatshirt he wore was torn in places and stained blotchy with black mud. The shoe from his bent right foot was a bright burgundy and looked like it had been for a while.
Ali was so shocked she had walked right by him around the bend without noticing, the thought to scream or call for help was delayed a full minute as she tried to convince herself she wasn't seeing what was right in front of her. “MOM! DAD! HELP!” Ali yelled as she found her voice...
Would you want to keep reading this? Did I portray finding the body in a "cold" way? Is there anything you can think of to improve it? Thanks! Love you! :)
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