To: Peachtree City Fire Department

Chief Stony Lohr

Dear Stony,

Please accept our late "thank

you" for inviting us to the annual fire department dinner. It was,

as always, an honor to be with you all.

Something was different this

year, more of a feeling of, well, family. Not that there wasn't in

the past, just that it was more evident this year.

As usual, I am stunned to see

so many young people serving their community. Honestly, Stony, the couple

sitting at our table: They couldn't have been 20 years old. She was

on her due-date that very evening, so I hope everything went well for

them and they have added to the next generation of firefighters.

Good heavens. Is this possible?

They and probably a dozen others in the department had not even been born

when I joined the department in about 1972, 32 years ago.

I was disappointed that more

Life Members weren't at the dinner. As a department, you have all

been so deferential toward us. I know there must be those who see us as

fossils, and can't imagine that we too once wore dress blue with

red-on-gold badges.

You patiently listen to our

tales of homemade tankers and telephone dispatch systems. When Dave and

I first started, we looked at our predecessors the same way, imagining

bucket brigades and hand-me-down hoses.

And no doubt they imagined

a time when there were no residential fires because everyone still lived

in rock caves.

We managed. We were all volunteers

then, even Chief Leach, but as the city grew, we did too, and soon had

to convince "the city fathers," as the chief used to call mayor

and council, to add paid personnel to ensure that the trucks were ready,

the phone answered, the doors up.

It wasn't that volunteers

couldn't do those things. There just weren't enough to give

that many hours to the city without compensation. They had families to

feed too.

We had our bureaucratic battles,

but sooner or later, between "the city fathers" and the generosity

of local industries, we built the department, in both equipment and personnel.

From talking with today's

members, I've learned that the volunteers are still the hands and

feet of the department. And remarkably, the line between volunteers and

the paid staff is less visible than it has ever been. A new spirit of

unity exists within the department, and that makes an old-timer very proud.

Moreover, the professionalism

of the department is better than ever. Dave got me a scanner for Christmas,

and I hear most of the local calls. It's almost embarrassing to compare

today's careful exchange of information with what you might have

heard in the '70s and �80s: "809 to 814. We're enroute

to Piedmont. Would you stop by my house and let the cat out? When I left

for this call, I couldn't find him."

I'm not kidding.

We were also impressed by the

number of fully-qualified females in the department now. Naturally, I

get to brag that I was the first, but I'll confess that the skills

I offered were almost entirely on the EMS side, or in record-keeping and

paperwork. No one insisted that I climb more than three steps of a ladder

or wrestle heavy hose on and off the engine or actually enter a working

fire.

I have no doubt that the delicate-looking

ladies I saw at the dinner are every bit the equal of their male counterparts.

The awards you gave out at the dinner reflected the high degree of their

skills and the high esteem in which they are held by their colleagues.

But besides the young sprouts

y'all have now, you've got a few with some age on them. Assistant

Chief Ed Eiswerth joined as a volunteer, I believe, while I was still

with the department, then went off to another military assignment, until

he retired and returned here.

The only other members still

active in the department since I was there are Training Officer Tom Hughey

and Paul Talbott.

I notice that Tom has an assistant

now, whom the rest of the staff are rushing through so he's ready

if ... uh, no, I don't want to say that. Tom's got a few more

good years in him, although not many will explain "good for what."

Honestly, giving him an award

each year that he doesn't wreck a department vehicle?

And I appreciate that Paul

Talbott was given the recognition he has so rarely received. When you

noted that he has served for 30 years - 30 years! - I was deeply

moved.

Paul is steady and solid, blessed

with stunning mechanical skills and attention to detail, but not so much

charisma. He has written the specs for nearly every piece of equipment

the department has purchased in the last 30 years.

As a Delta employee, he was

able to fly frequently to wherever a truck was being built, to keep an

eye on the process. If some detail is not precisely as ordered, Paul stands

his ground until the manufacturer complies.

His reward was usually that

he got the honor of driving the latest engine from Indiana to Peachtree

City. Imagine the cost if the city had to pay an employee to oversee construction

and then drive home the finished apparatus.

May I be the first to propose

that the next fire station be named Talbott Station?

Thank you again, Stony, from

a couple of old FireMedics (relics?) who are content to listen to scanners

and attend the annual banquet. When a call goes out for one of the nursing

homes in the far end of the city, I'm glad to pour another cup of

coffee and stay right here in the house.

We do what we can do, and that

is to pray for your safety and the well-being of those you are going to

help.

Sincerely,

Dave and Sallie

[Editor's note: So far

as we know, our Sallie is the only newspaper columnist in the world with

a fire station named in her honor.]