A whole career of firsts, and nowhere to put them. Sixty-some prompts, seven chapters, and a lot of blank lines — for the first working fire, the first mayday you heard, the meal you never finished.
For the firefighter who never talks about it — and the family who wishes they would.
Academy through the last alarm. It follows a career in the order it actually happens.
First working fire. First nozzle. The address everybody knows. Written by someone who ran the calls.
Ruled, heavy paper that takes a pen. Nothing in here is filled in for you.
You've watched them come in at seven in the morning and say it was a quiet night. You know it wasn't. Twenty years from now the details go soft — the addresses, the names, the ones they got out.
This is somewhere to put it that isn't you, and isn't a chaplain, and isn't the bay at three in the morning. There are pages in the back for you to sign too — most people write theirs before they hand it over.
"Someday this book will have soot on it. Maybe worse."
Left page asks. Right page is yours. No dates to keep up with, no wrong answers, and nothing to fall behind on.
A portion of every copy funds AEDs and CPR training for communities through Bond's Path, Inc. Somebody's first arrest is somebody else's worst day — this puts a machine on the wall before the tones ever drop.