Farthest North FOOLS Bio
Welcome
to the Farthest North Fools website. Our little chapter in the heart of the
Interior of Alaska is among the newest chapters in the Fraternal Order Of
Leatherheads Society. We may be new, we may be small in number, but we are
filled to bursting with strength of heart and enthusiasm for the ethic which the
FOOLS aspire to and to which we few FNF brothers have dedicated ourselves to.
Bein' the president of the chapter, I find myself the spokesman for a group of
guys that generally don't think much o' words. So I feel foolish doin' all this
yappin' cross the web.
If
you'll bear with me, I'd like to let you in on a thought or two that we feel is
worth the air'n. Then I'll allow, I best shut my jibs.
From
the very beginning, our chapter has been just a little bit different. We
attribute that to the lack of warm weather, excess frost on the outhouse boards
and a tendency to view the rest of the country between large helpings of moose
meat and fresh salmon, or caribou for those of particular taste. Often it seems,
we feel as if we are standing on a South facing slope, peering through the mist
at America far below, and wondering
what all the fuss is about. For crying out loud, the Weather Channel even gave
updates on the weather in
Iraq, but not one little blurb about the 49th
state.
So
perhaps this explains our lack of polish and parade. Few, if any of us, have
ever had the privilege of honoring the dead the way the fire service
traditionally does. Though we are deeply moved every time a brother falls, we
often feel unable to make the depth of our sorrow understood by those who are
there to share in the suffering. Words over the web seem cold. It is a goal of
ours to be present at some point, to show our deep respect for the brotherhood.
We trust that until then, those Fools in the lower 48 will understand our hearts
are always with them, and we do keep vigil here, and remember fallen brothers.
I
said we're different. Perhaps we are, but only
geographically. It is fun to play on the stereotypes. In truth, we are a small
group of Leatherheads among a highly dedicated, typically under funded, bunch of
firefighters. Among our Alaskan ranks are firefighters from all over the U.S. We have
gritty native Alaskans, egotistical Texans, rusty Washingtonians and misguided
Californians, linguistically handicapped New Yorkers and cantankerous Arkansas
Razorbacks, just to name a few.
A
diverse group we are and our firefighting reflects that.
Some of us are staunchly West Coast in approach while others are definitely more
East Coast. Some of us are just plain backwoods about it. Across the board we
all think too much of ourselves. The fourteen or so Farthest North Fools
however, tend to be a complex blend of all these, with a healthy dose of East
Coast traditionalism thrown in. Every single FNFool feels the blood pump when a
brother gets first due on a working job, every one of us lives by Chief Croker's
definition of a fireman. We few FNFools are from almost all of the local area
departments and are usually in the very thick of the fighting on any issue
dealing with the safety of firefighters, the effectiveness of various methods
and tactics and the fight to remember the fallen and preserve our history. We
are not the most loved among our ranks, we are the most likely to speak the
truth.
That
brings me to my main point. Our little chapter has big dreams. We do not aspire
to be known for parades, for wildest parties or the longest moustaches,
(although individual members do pull our weight in each of those areas). Our
tiny ranks have a desire to be known as men of action. Embedded upon our hearts
and reflected in our eyes is the motto, “Actiones Non Verba”. Action, not words.
WITHOUT ACTION, YOUR WORDS HAVE NO MEANING. WITHOUT ACTION, I DON'T HEAR YOU!
Among the Farthest North Fools you must have some sand in your words, meat on
the bone, fruit of your labor. I'm so damned tired of firefighters who make the
big bucks, carry a notebook full of certificates, sport the “No Fear” T-shirts
and flap their jibs about being the bravest o' this side o' town, but haven't
got a lick o' horse sense. You know the type, they like the FOOLS idea, but
don't have a clue what its about.
Some
of the best firefighters I've had in my company were the quietest and hardest to
get through to. In the end, they're the ones who put a layer of tar down! Why?
Because to make the grade they have to daily put into action what others just
talk about.
The
brothers of the Farthest North Fools are, as one, men of action. In each of our
departments, we are the ones upsetting the apple cart and challenging status
quo. As we continue to move towards the finest years of our careers we vow to
help each other keep from becoming stuck in the muck that turns firemen into
mutts, that costs lives and makes widows. We will reach over department
boundaries to give a brother a hand. We look our brothers in the eye and tell it
like it is. We watch each other's backs. Each of us strives to teach the young
ones how to survive and live and love the job like a professional.
This
is the noblest profession on earth. How could we accept anything less of
ourselves? Firefighters are the ones looked to when disaster strikes, so we
better have our powder dry! Amen? I never want to be the one responsible for the
death of one of my own. In order for that to be, I must remain a man of action,
dedicated to pursuing the best that can be given. Doing the right thing, doing
our best to bring everyone home, keeping the faith, and remembering those who
have already given all that can be given. And most importantly, showing those
following us how to do the job from the front line, not the LazyBoy. If we
don't, who will?
Am
I boasting? NO . I'm stating our objective, so that brothers have a mark to hit,
somethin' to lay their sights on. How ‘bout it? Where do you stand? You gripin'
about your department or doin'somethin to fix it? Do you pat mutts on the back
or do you look them in the eye. You collectin' a check or doin a job? Or are you
sittin' on a fence somewhere, amazed at the number of fatherless children
pilin'up? Put some grit in yer gut, pull your boots on, grow a long moustache
and start livin' like you got a pair. Heap savvy?
As
my good brother Ronnie is fond of saying, “I'm done talkin'”.
The Prez.
Farthest North Fools
