Engine 8 - San Jose
Maybe it is that feeling of helplessness we feel when tragedy strikes. Who is Going to Help? And then the natural inclination to say — How Can I help?
As the one year anniversary of 9–11 rolled around in sunny San Jose, I looked for ways to appeciate and connect with our own first responders. The ones who rush in to help. And I looked at Engine 8, two blocks from my house.
On a hot August morning, I walked over to the station house with my little two year old and introduced myself. The firefighters were pleasant of course, charming even. They gave Amelia a tour of the kitchen, locker room and let her climb on the truck. I called it a truck back then, I know it better now as an engine.
The conversation left me empty, wanting something more. A stronger connection with those who risked it all, a small way in which I could support them like they support us. Some how if I could be closer to Engine 8, I could be closer to my first home back East and all could be safe.
I went back to the station again and suggested that I could organize 40 meals for 40 nights starting on the first anniversary of 9–11. It was not easy to reach agreement as there were three shifts, three captains, and a variety of rotations who all needed to agree to the plan. Not easy and yet agreement went quickly through the ranks. Perhaps they wanted a connection too, a neighborhood where they belonged.
Having helped with forming the local moms group, I reached out to moms for help. Rather quickly the schedule filled up with volunteers and meal plans so as not to duplicate food. Moms would deliver meals and leave them at the door if the engine had a call.
There were gaps in the schedule so myself and a few other moms doubled up or tripled up on cooking and delivery. There were unexpected illnesses of children or parents and the occasional mishap but most went smoothly. But one meal delivery has always stood out in my mind.
A neighborhood mom had just finished making lasagna for her family and headed for the fire station. She took the stroller for her one-year-old child, carried her infant in the front-pack, and had the two-year-old hold the side of the stroller while she balanced the lasagna as she walked. Within a few feet of the station, the stroller didn’t quite clear the curb and it almost tipped over. The child was safe but the lasagna was lost. And without missing a beat the mom quickly turned around went back to her house, pulled out the lasagna that she had planned to serve her own family and returned to the fire station with the promised meal. We were all looking for ways to contribute and create a stronger connection; we built one.
After the 40 nights were over the firefighters at Engine 8 were exceptionally appreciative and knew many of our moms by name. However when the next anniversary came along they suggested that we find another way to connect. They had found that they enjoyed the camaraderie of making their own meals and burning their own toast and that perhaps there was another way we could all enjoy being neighbors.
I sat down with several of the firefighters in the kitchen and discussed what might be an appropriate choice. They were kind and patient but they really didn’t see a way how we could help out. They’re quite a self-reliant bunch. I finally asked if there was anything they would want for the station. I offered to get a group to paint the station something more cheery than beige, but they were content with the color scheme. Since it was Engine 8 they had found a wooden frame that might be made into a table top shaped-8 but that would take some actual craftsmanship from an artist unknown. I was about out of ideas when, one of the firefighters mentioned “hey what about a bell?”
“A bell? Wow. Don’t you have a bell?” Well it turns out they had a bell. But the bell they wanted was a very special and expensive bell that was on the front of an engine and could be rung manually from the inside of the cabin. They showed me pictures they had saved of the bell. A very pretty silver shiny bell on the right side of the front of the engine. It didn’t really matter to me that they already had a bell. All that mattered was that they wanted this one.
I contacted several moms and suggested a pancake breakfast. I organized with Walgreens and asked if we could use their parking lot. We had lots of businesses sponsor us and we invited families from the neighborhood to come and the Dads flipped the pancakes.
We raised almost enough money for the bell but not enough for the installation. And our local neighborhood association picked up the remainder of the expense and the bell was installed. And when we had Halloween parties at our house for 10 years Engine 8 would come and lead the parade around the block and the kids would ring the bell that everybody helped bring to Engine 8.
The following anniversary I was stumped as to how I could contribute back to our first responders who were so close by in my own neighborhood. I offered the only thing I could think of. A yoga class.
You’re thinking the same thing they thought. Yoga for firefighters? Big strong adrenaline focused firefighters in a yoga class. It didn’t make sense to them either. But you offer what you have in the moment and that’s what I had. And of course, they said no thank you.
But I was not turned away easily. And once every other week or so I would go back to the station and offer the yoga class. They continued to decline.
At one point they finally recognized that I was not going to go away until a class was had; they agreed to attend yoga under one condition. That I spend the day with them in the fire engine and go on calls as an observer. I wholeheartedly agreed, who doesn’t want to be a firefighter?
We went on many calls and I was overwhelmed with the variety and range of calls. Engine 8 is one of the busiest stations in San Jose. We did find time to visit the San Jose Day Nursery where my daughter spent morning playtimes. They insisted that I dress in full gear with mask and whatever else they added on. I could barely walk around and I wasn’t in a building that was on fire, going up the stairs.
The next day was the yoga class. And I knew they expected something fluffy, something inconsequential and easy. They were attending the class to placate me in the hopes that eventually I would fade into the distance and they could get back to their real jobs. But I wanted to make the class worth their time and continue with “How Can I Help”.
Within the first seven minutes of the class I heard the captain call out from the back of the room.“Hey Irene, we have a 24-hour shift coming up and if you keep going like this we’re not gonna make it.” As designed, they had started to sweat from the fluffy yoga class.
I re-live that moment over and over again with a smile on my face. Yoga isn’t what you think it is. And it always depends on the teacher.
I am forever grateful for our first responders and these treasured memories of connection, community, and a spirit of supporting one another in good humor. And I still consider when the captain came up to me after class and said “you’re really strong, you’d make a great firefighter”. But there’s no way I could carry all that stuff they carry and also carry someone out. But then again, who doesn’t want to be a firefighter who rushes in to help?
Dedicated to my lifelong friend and retired firefighter.
Irene Smith, JD, PhD
