Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Randy's First Fire Call.

My eyes flew open to a high pitched alarm going off! "Was that a fire call?" I ask my snoring husband Don beside me. My question brings only a half hearted snort and then silence until our bedroom door flies open and our 18 year old son Randy bursts in and exclaims "Fire call!" And something else my half asleep mind didn't comprehend, and he ran out the front door. Started his truck up and roared out the driveway. "Drive carefull!" I yelled after him but all we could hear was the droan of his motor as he rounded the curve in Guilford. I quickly said a little prayer asking the good lord to keep my son safe and then lay there wondering what lay ahead of him. This took me back to when he was a small child and had the flu. I lay there chuckling to myself at the similarity of it. I remember way back laying in bed trying to sleep when suddenly Randy burst through the bedroom door only to announce he was going to be sick to his stomach! "Get to the toilet, both Don and I roared, but too late. Randy was too busy hurling undigested wieners all over the hall floor. I can laugh about it now, but at the time, it wasn't so funny! Time sure has flown. I can still remember Randy's first cry in the hospital, and how deep his little voice was even then. How he loved trucks and how when we went for walks he insisted on taking his little three wheelers and push them stubbornly along the trail the whole way singing along to himself all the while. It only seemed natual when he began going to Uncle Allan's farm at the ripe old age of 9 and began driving tractors all summer. Any work around the yard that involved a machine usually had Randy at the wheel. School was always a thorn in Randy's side, but he persevered to get his grade 12. I think maybe his grandfather was what kept him at it. He used to tell Randy how important it was he got his grade 12 and because they had such a great relationship, he didn't let his grandpa down even though his grandpa had passed on a few years before.
It just seemed natural when Randy got his drivers licence. Seemed he should have had it all his life. I remember going to the zoo on a class trip and I came down with one of my lovely migraines. I seriously considered letting Randy drive home at the age of 10. I do believe he could have done it no problem at all. So grade 12 graduation has come and gone and Randy now works for Thomas construction. He drives the huge loader in the pit and works the screener that sifts all the debris out of the winter sand that gets put on the highways. Since being employed at Thomas's, he's became a volunteer firefighter for Stanehope Township. This takes an amazing amount of time and dedication from anyone, but especially a young lad of 18. He's also achieved geting his DZ license which really worries me. Only for the fact I know someday there's going to be a big pebble hauler sitting in my driveway!
I'm still laying there awake wondering what he's going to see tonight on his very first fire call, but off in the distance I can hear the familiar droan of his truck coming along the highway and slowing down into the driveway. The front door opens and closes and Randy comes to our bedroom door and announces kind of dissapointedly that the call was called off. "Some domestic." he tells us. "See ya's in the morning." I quickly thank the lord for keeping him safe and think to myself how proud I am of him as I slip into a good nights sleep.