I don't have a bucket list, but I did get a bucket ride. Yesterday, I officiated at the funeral of a long-time and influential former Fire Chief of our little town. He brought our local fire department out of the age of ladders and gaggers and into the age of aerial and snorkel trucks and proper self contained breathing apparatus.
It was a very moving service, with gifts of remembrance from family members, including his son, who succeeded him as chief. Members of fire departments from about a dozen or so communities in our county came in to take part in the funeral detail. This was my first time with the traditions of the fire department for a funeral, and it is as tight-knit a community as I have ever met. The final alarm for the chief was one of the most moving moments I have ever experienced in a funeral service.
The trip to the cemetery was another first for me and for the department as well. A well-built, handmade platform rig was placed just behind the bucket of the snorkel truck. The casket was placed on it, and strapped down for the ride. I rode in the bucket with one of the sons, also a firefighter, in a procession that led past the fire station, where the bell was rung 50 times, once for each year of the man's service to the department.
Resquiat in Pacem
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