Captain, There is smoke rising due south of us.

Michael...Here is a litte story I dashed off just the other day


Shadyside Retirement Home
Shadyside, FL
March 11, 2073

Dear Grandsons, Albemarle and Manfred,

I was overjoyed to hear of your appointments to the ranks of the Tampa Fire and Rescue Service. Your employment with this organization will continue a long-standing tradition of service to the people of the city of Tampa by our family. That tradition began many years ago with the appointment over a hundred years ago of my grandfather, your great-great grandfather, Scott, to the then, Tampa Fire Department in1967. The tradition of service to the community skipped a generation and then at age 32 in the year 2035 I joined the Tampa Fire and Rescue Service.

That summer of ’36 was my rookie year and I spent it with Captain Amos Brigand tooling around the Seminole Heights area with our red pushcart. Captain Brigand was one of the last of the firefighters that had commanded the big pumpers. Oh, there was a pumper at the firefighter museum downtown, but hardly anyone cared any more. It was covered with dust and debris. The tires had gone flat so heavy wooden blocks were placed under the axels to hold it up.

Captain Brigand and I had our window washing equipment piled in our pushcart. We had an assortment of ladders, squeegees, a bundle of rags and soap powder. The pushcart was outfitted with a small water pump that enabled us to wash second story windows. We also had an assortment of home safety equipment such as smoke detectors and fire extinguishers. It was my job to walk up to each residence to solicit window-washing jobs and to try to peddle our smoke detectors and home safety equipment.

You may wonder what in the world I am talking about, but you will soon enough hear the stories of that time. During President Bush’s (Jeb) last term in office another great depression similar to the one back in the 1930’s began. As a result of the hard times many cities across the land could no longer afford to buy fire engines. Instead fire inspectors were hired from the ranks of the unemployed. These inspectors were given a lot of power. They could even come into your home and look for violations of the fire code.

Our city declared that the fire department must be self-supporting so those firefighters not participating in the inspections and the new hires had to go out and drum up money by washing windows and peddling fire safety equipment.

Captain Brigand and I worked out of the fire station in Seminole Heights. This area was hard hit by the depression and the inhabitants were not inclined to purchase our products. On this particular Thursday we were having a particularly bad day. When 5:00 pm rolled around we had only one window washing job and two smoke detectors sold for the whole day. Captain Brigand said that was it for the day and we turned our pushcart around and headed for station.

Chief Inspector Checko was waiting for us when we got back to the station.

“What have you brought in today, Brigand. I hope it is more than what you brought in yesterday,” Inspector Checko sneered.

Captain Brigand handed him our log and the money that went with it. Inspector Checko looked at the money and the log for a moment and then launched into a tirade. “You think you can coast because you will be eligible to draw your pension in three weeks. If you do you have another think coming. Tomorrow is your last day unless you produce. This city is not going to give a pension to a slacker like you.” He then stomped off to his office.

I turned to Captain Brigand and asked, “What are you going to do, Captain?”

He put his big hand on my shoulder and said with a big smile, “When the time comes I will deal with Inspector Checko. Let’s head for home.”

The next day things were going better for us as we had two window washing jobs completed, sold three smoke detectors, and were just setting up the ladder for another window washing. I climbed the ladder and began to squeegee the window in front of me when I noticed smoke rising from the downtown area. I called out to Captain Brigand who was sitting on the curb smoking a cigarette. “Captain, there is smoke due south of us.”

He got up from the curb and threw his cigarette away and said, “Come down here and let me take a look.”

I quickly came down and we repositioned the ladder so he could get a better look at the column of smoke. He ascended the ladder and then yelled down to me while still at the top of the ladder, “Get all our stuff together. We have to go back to the station.”

I got behind the pushcart, but Captain Brigand shouted, “Leave it. We only need the ladder. We hoisted the ladder onto our shoulders and as fast as we could, headed for the station. When we got there Captain Brigand spied Inspector Checko’s city owned sedan and without a moments hesitation took the ladder from me and rammed it through the back window of Inspector Checko’s city owned sedan.

Inspector Checko upon hearing the sound of breaking glass bolted out of his office and nearly fainted when he saw what Captain Brigand had done. Captain Brigand slipped past him, grabbed the sedan keys off the desk in Inspector Checko’s office and ran past the now turning-purple-with-rage Inspector Checko to where I was standing.

Captain Brigand motioned me to get in the passenger seat and we drove off leaving the now completely purple Inspector Checko yelling at the top of his lungs, “You are fired, Brigand. You are fired, Brigand.”

The fire was raging in a warehouse close to the docks. Right next to the fire was a cruise ship loaded with tourists. The fire was closing in on the main entrance to the ship making it impossible to get off the ship. Most of the passengers were able to get off the ship before the fire got too bad, but now several hundred of the passengers and crew were trapped. Preparations were being made to get the ship under way, but it was feared that would take too long and the smoke and heat would take its toll on the remaining passengers and crew.

Captain Brigand quickly saw what was happening and we drove around to the bow of the ship. We quickly pulled our ladder out the back window of the sedan and hoisted it to where the tip of the ladder rested on the railing of the bow. Almost at once the passengers and crew huddled on the deck began to scamper down to safety. By this time engine companies and ladder trucks began arriving from the county and began to set up to combat this fire.

Inspector Checko arrived a bit later and began to complain to the fire chief about what Captain Brigand and I had done. I heard the chief tell him that he couldn’t very well fire us because over two hundred lives had been saved because of what we had done.

When the fire was out and the Inspectors were able to get into the burned out warehouse it was discovered that there were numerous violations of the fire code. The owner of the warehouse was arrested on the spot and he immediately began to sing like a little canary. It seems like Inspector Checko and some of his cohorts were soliciting payoffs to look the other way when there was a violation of the fire code. Inspector Checko was arrested later that same day.

As a result of this fire the city managed to find the funds to buy new fire engines, Captain Amos Brigand got his pension and I didn’t get fired.

I hope you enjoy this look back at the “old days” of your fire department.

Your Grandfather,

Eric “Batka” Major

Is it Bakery or Homemade

Michael,

Do you remember the Black Forest Cherry Cake your mother and I baked for a church picnic?

You probably don’t. You and your sister were only about four or five years old at the time. The picnic was to be held at the Baptist Assembly Grounds. The highlight of the picnic was going to be a cake-judging contest. Your mother picked out a cake she wanted us to make and bring to the picnic. It was this elaborate Black Forest Cherry Cake. She and I spent the whole morning making that cake and when we finished the final decorations this was one magnificent cake. It looked just like the picture in the recipe book. Cherry filling was spread between the layers, whipped cream adorned the sides and top, shredded chocolate was pressed into the sides, curls of chocolate were carefully placed on top and then a garnish of maraschino cherries finished the decorating. This cake was truly a work of art.

As soon as we all got to the picnic your mother and I carefully unloaded the cake from the car and immediately headed for the table where the entries for the cake judging contest was to be held. Mrs. Castor was hovering about eyeballing each cake as it was brought in and placed on the table. Now Mrs. Castor ran a tight ship. There had better not be any fooling around at the cake-judging table. Her eyeballing the other cakes halted when she saw the cake your mother and I brought in. Her gaze immediately became fixed although she continued walking around the table. It was as if she wanted to inspect our cake from every side to confirm her suspicions. Finally she stopped and turned to your mother and hissed, “You bought this cake at a bakery didn’t you? We can’t have any bakery cakes here.”

Your mother was stunned into silence for a moment, but she finally replied rather heatedly, “I will have you know my husband and I spent all morning making this cake and I also washed all the dishes it took to make this cake. WE DID NOT BUY THIS CAKE AT A BAKERY! Mrs. Castor immediately retreated from the cake table at this uncharacteristic show of ferocity from your mother. I really did appreciate your mother defending our cake and there was no need for me to untter one word. I figured your mother had put Mrs. Castor in her place. Besides, I was hungry and there were huge mounds of fried chicken, potato salad, baked beans, casseroles of every description, and assorted desserts waiting to be devoured at the food table.

Our pastor gave the blessing for the food. I loved that man. He never gave long food blessings. Afterward I began heaping my plate with the fried chicken, the potato salad, the baked beans, and assorted helpings from the casseroles and then topped it off with the desserts. When I could finally eat no more I walked down to the lake where members of our group had set some reclining lounge chairs in the shade of the huge oak trees that ringed the lake. I was offered a spot in one of the lounge chairs and promptly accepted the offer. The previous brouhaha with your mother and Mrs. Castor were the last thing on my mind as I began to doze.

These assembly grounds are set amid a very picturesque spot. Huge old oak trees frame the lake to make a picture post-card setting. There is a white sand beach where the younger kids can run and play to their hearts content. I scan the beach to see what you and your sister are doing, but I cannot see you two from where I am reclining so I raise up so I can get a better look at where you two are supposed to be, but I can only see your mother and Mrs. Castor. Oh no, Mrs.Castor is lying face down in the sand and your mother is straddled over her. She has Mrs. Castor’s hair is one hand and with the other hand is shoving Black Forest Cherry Cake in Mrs. Castor’s mouth. Then your mother shoves Mrs. Castor’s head into the sand saying, “This is bakery cake.” Then your mother pulls Mrs. Castor’s head out of the sand and shoves cake into her mouth saying. “ This is my cake. Now can you tell the difference”? This went on for some time. Head in the sand, then head out the sand. “This is bakery cake.” “ This is my cake. Now can you tell the difference”?

I was awakened suddenly by a commotion coming from the sand beach in front of me. Two of the men from our church had Mrs. Castor by her arms and were attempting to drag her past me. She appeared to be quite disheveled with sand covering her face and hair matted with more sand. Oh No! Around her mouth were pieces of cake, Black Forest Cherry Cake to be exact. I was not dreaming. Your mother actually did it to her. I ran over to her and exclaimed, “Mrs. Castor I am so sorry. I had no idea my wife would do this to you.”

“What are talking about,” one the men attempting to hold Mrs. Castor upright said to me. “She was walking on the beach while eating a piece of your cake. She wasn’t paying any attention to where she was going. Your son and daughter dug a big old hole in the sand and she tripped and fell in the hole. She was thrashing about and chocking on your cake at the same time. I thought she was going to die before we could get that cake out of her mouth.

Our cake didn’t win a prize, but your mother and I were not unhappy.


Love, Dad

BLACK - FOREST CHERRY CAKE

2 layers chocolate cake (a tight cake does better than a real light one)
1 (16 oz.) can tart cherries, packed in water
1/4 c. sugar, if you want a sweet filling
No sugar, if you want a tart filling
2 tbsp. Kirschwasser (cherry brandy)
2 tbsp. cornstarch
1/2 pt. whipping cream
1 sm. pkg. instant vanilla pudding
1 c. milk
German's Sweet Chocolate, block

Bake chocolate layer cake according to package directions and cool completely. Drain cherries, reserving liquid. Bring 1 cup cherry liquid (add water to juice to make 1 cup) to boil, stir in cornstarch (and sugar), boil for 1 minute. Take off heat, add cherries and Kirsch, let cool completely. Whip cream frosting: Mix pudding with milk, let it get a little thick. Whip cream and fold into pudding.