I don't
know how this happened but it has been two months since my last post. Well I
kinda know, I had a health scare that was just that, a scare and nothing more. It
would seem that I got lost on my plan here. Yesterday I was reminded why this blog is so important me, so strap in because this one
might take you a few extra minutes to read. Eugenia Clifford, John Burke, Jack Lynch, John
Albanese, Kevin Lyons, Vincent Ramio, Harold Cribben. These are the names of
the people I was able to honor since my last post. I feel the need to come
right out and say their names where I wasn't able to tell their story. All
wonderful and amazing people that I will remember during my forever.
This
week will be a tough one. Boston, the city just north of my city, had a nine alarm
fire just the other day. While battling this blaze the Boston fire department
(local 718) was met with incredible odds. Heavy fire, tight quarters, possible entrapment,
and extreme winds coming in off the dirty water of the River Charles. Eighteen
men were injured and two men were killed. Their story is coming.
Yesterday
I had the honor of piping with some of the greatest men I know as we paid respect
to Firefighter Arthur Moscufo of the Medford fire department (local 1032). Mr.
Moscufo was just days from retirement when he passed, only moments from getting
home after his shift. Firefighter
Moscufo was 64 and lived in Wilmington, MA. He died suddenly on March 23rd,
2014. Born in Boston on December 21st in 1949, Arthur attended St. John’s
Elementary School and Christopher Columbus High School. He served his country
as a soldier in the United States Army C/227 Aviation Battalion of the 1st Air
Cavalry Division during his tour in the Vietnam War. He was honorably
discharged on November 2nd, 1971. Arthur joined the Medford Fire Department on
April 17th, 1980 and was an active member of the department at the time of his
death. At first, during the days before the funeral it seemed as though we
would not be able to put together a band, and I thought I was going to be
piping this one on my own. Even the night before I was under the understanding
that it would just be myself, a new piper from Somerville, and a Snare from
Whitman. I knew regardless of the size of the band, we would play well for this
man and his family. I heard an amazing quote yesterday. It went something
like this, "Firehouses are filled
with great and wonderful men, men that would give it all for others. You go in and
pick out the best of those great and wonderful men and you have a pipe band."
This is so true. We ended up with eight pipers, four drummers and we did play
well. All of us were so proud to be allowed to play for the Moscufo family in their
time of need.
I
couldn't possibly share every detail of the day but I can share a couple
moments. First let me start with the ride in, four of us (Brockton, Quincy,
Weymouth, Whitman) met up and drove in together. We drove in this amazing truck
with beautiful leather seats, onstar, automatic doors, and a gps system where
apparently you shouldn't enter info into while driving. OK, I'm making a feeble
attempt at ball busting here, sorry Andy. Anyway, the ride in, like usual we
begin to solve the world's problems. Apparently we figure we can get that done
in the time it takes to get from Braintree to Malden. Each guy interjecting and
cutting off the other as if our point was the fix all, ADD at its best! Hint,
we weren't too successful at solving anything. What I did take out of the ride
in, apparently Dorchester is the true center of the universe, I had no idea. We
arrived in Malden with tons of time to spare, right away we began to bump into
people we don't get to see too often and jump right into the old shtick. Each
guy/gal identical to the four of us clowns that drove in together. A special
sort I must say. Did you know that Dorchester is awesome? Sorry, I digress. Like
I said earlier (reiterate) the services went well. The band played together and
pushed out good sound. We played before and after the mass prior to heading
over to the cemetery for the grave side service. Moscufo is to be cremated but
they brought his casket to the area of the cemetery dedicated to the past
members of the Medford fire department. A classy memorial that stood before a
flag pole where the Standard hung at half staff in his honor. After a short religious
ceremony and the folding of the flag that draped his casket by the Army we
would all head out giving thanks to the Medford and Somerville guys for having
us. The sun was shining at this point and we all felt well. A job well done.
Later
that afternoon we ended up stopping for lunch. We had a great time with even
stronger banter. I learned even more about the greatness of Dorchester. The
wait staff was very good and so nice to us. We got them to sit and chat with us
for a few minutes. Sometimes we forget
that others do care and know what's going on, let's face it we were still
wearing kilts. In light of what happened on the Charles River the other day a gentleman
came to our table. This man was tall with a sporting build. Looked like a solid
worker type guy. Jeans and work boots carrying what looked like job folders. We
were bantering back and forth and yucking it up pretty good at this point. He
stopped short of our table and made eye contact with the three of us. We all
noticed he had the beginnings of tears in his lids. The moment was rather surreal.
He stood for a slight moment, I imagine to gather his words, and began to quickly
thank us for what we do. His chin would then tuck tightly into his chest like
the shyness of a toddler and he would then turn and walk away. We each looked
to one and other and almost simultaneously said out loud. He was crying. We sat
for about fifteen seconds with no words. Without being able to thank the man the
tension built, one of us quipped one of the many inside jokes of the day to get
us back to the previous feelings and enjoyable ridicule. It wouldn't be to long
before the gentleman would return. Immediately I asked him to sit, (as I kicked
out the chair from underneath the table) he graciously accepted and began to
tell us a story where recently he was playing hockey in a league and one of the
players on the opposing team had a heart attack during the game. He told us how
most of the men on the teams were taken by the shock of witnessing the attack.
How one of the players was a firefighter and that firefighter without
hesitation sprung into action. How he, his whole life has felt he was a strong
man until that moment when he watched helplessly as this firefighter worked to
save the life of the player. He used the term hero which always seems very
strange to me. He finished his story with a thank you and a hand shake before
heading out the door. I appreciate that moment for sure, but the kindness would
not end there. Soon after, as we were getting ready to head out ourselves the
waiter would come by again. It would seem that two women in the lounge saw us
and paid our tab. We were shocked at this and needed to thank them. We watched
as the waiter made his way to their table and once we figured out who they were, we grabbed
our drinks and joined them. They were nurses from the Brigham. They had amazing
stories of their own. You see they too see what we see, so they and "we"
understood. We spent about a half an hour at their table talking about events and people before ending with a couple hugs
and thank you for what you dos, and wouldn't you know,
the nurses… they were from Dorchester!!
Peter
