Memories in the Mail

Our mail showed up maybe an hour ago. Not that there was much in the mailbox: only a postcard-like ad for a dentist's office, and an envelope from Valpak. The envelope always mentions the chance of $100 in the envelope, so to entice people to open and look at the ads inside. Some ads, I put aside, thinking I might use it some day, maybe, while the rest go into the recycling bin.

One ad that almost always gets my attention is for Village Inn. There are at least three in the county I'm in. But it's been several years since the last time I was in one, and, before that, decades since I'd been in another Village Inn on a regular basis. They tend to be a little out of the way for me at the moment, especially when I have to catch a ride places. But there was a time...

I'd worked on several fire departments in Pinellas County, Florida, decades ago. The first was when I got on as a volunteer with one department in 1979. Then, the beginning of 1980, another department had an ad for full-time firefighter/paramedic trainees. I applied, and was one of six or eight people hired, including another woman. At that time, there was only one other female firefighter in the county (as far as I could tell), and she'd been on the job less than a year. There may have been a couple of other women volunteer firefighters in our county, but I'm talking about paid positions.

I absolutely loved the job, loved getting my EMT license, going through the training. There were only two draw-backs: one was that I had to cut my hair (when it was long, I'd put it in a braid, and, at a fire, could get the hair completely out of the way under my helmet; couldn't do that when it was short!), and the other was that I only got three hours of sleep a night for the 6-1/2 weeks that I lasted in the fire academy. (It had to do with an unsupportive S.O. I'll leave it at that. We all have stories to tell, right?)

I then worked on another department, left that, and, a couple of years later, became a volunteer, then a paid firefighter, at a fourth department.

That's where the trips to Village Inn came in. Whenever we had a large fire, there was always a recap of how the fire went, what we'd done right, and how we could have improved. For the recap, after we had cleaned up and restocked the trucks, the chief would have the group that worked the fire meet up at the nearby Village Inn, where he'd spring for coffee and several pies, so we could pig out while discussing the fire. Nothing like getting a little extra comradery in. The pie and coffee sessions could last a while, and would frequently dissolve into general talk.

"Hey, how are the kids doing?"

"Great. You still seeing what's-her-name?"

"Yup. Hey, Chief..."

Now, whenever I pass a Village Inn, especially the one we'd frequent, I feel like I should stop in and hash out life's eccentricities.

Maybe someday...