The writing of a blog is an interesting exercise in many ways.  Perhaps the most interesting and challenging part of it all is picking a topic.  In my case it’s a weekly blog and therefore a weekly decision.

I usually have many different ideas swirling around in my head and in fact I keep a list of things that I want to write or “talk” about.  I have some blogs started, others partly finished, and all saved on my laptop.  There’s a lot of mental cataloguing and random thought collecting going on as I take note of things to possibly write about.  I guess I could just sit down and free associate whatever wants to come out, but the readers may not find that too interesting.  I at least try to be interesting if I can’t be good.  I’ve noticed too that the topics may reflect the mood, setting, and surroundings that I’m in.  Some people might refer to that as therapy, I guess.  I just go with it.

Another issue is what direction to go when considering what the past topics have been about.  I tend to want to vary it a bit, but maybe to be successful one has to stay focused on a genre and become really good, or beat it to death.  Dear Abby and Ann Landers were always trying to be helpful; political talk show hosts seem to be always haranguing; and my favorite sports writers from Sports Illustrated, Frank Deford and Rick Reilly, were always writing about, well you guessed it, sports!

However, something happened last week that left me shaking my head in disbelief, amazement, and sorrow.  Was it coincidental, happenstance, fate, premonition, or just plain old real-time life unfolding in a weird and tragic way?  Whatever it was, it provides the topic for this week filled with emotion and respect.

You see, what happened was I had just finalized my blog titled A Boyhood Hero about my uncle who was a firefighting machine in the form of a fearless, plane-jumping smokejumper.  I then went to my social media outlets to publicize it a bit when the Facebook posts, news, articles, and prayer requests started hitting me in the face about three firefighters losing their lives fighting a forest fire in Washington state.  I was stunned.  I was saddened. I was gripped with emotion.

The timing was terrible.  Real life had just suckered punched me, but much more importantly and tragically, it had just stolen the life from three brave men who chose to stand on the wall of protection; who chose to stand between a raging inferno and those who couldn’t stand; who chose to protect other people’s belongings, property, and lives at the cost of their own.  They put themselves in harm’s way so that others might be safe.  It was a sad and poignant moment as I looked into my phone.  My throat was thick and it was hard to swallow.  Literally, it was hard to swallow.  I thought of other firefighters that had lost their lives too and the families that they left behind.

I’m from Oregon; born and bred, and I come with some family background in that fire fighting arena.  Therefore I have a deep respect for these men and women who lay it on the line and risk it all each fire season.  Out west, we hold them in high regard, and when we lose even one it hurts and grieves us because they are heroes in every sense of the word.  They are as much of a hero to me as the brave men and women in the military around the world, as well as our first responders here at home.

Yes, these firefighters are heroes, but like most real heroes I don’t think they’d ever tell you that.  They would probably just say that they’re doing a job that needs to be done and if they didn’t answer the call, who would?  Heroes try to make calm out of chaos, and if you’ve ever witnessed the destruction of a forest fire, there is a lot of chaos.

To all of those serving on the front lines, I salute you, I honor you, and I esteem you greatly.

So instead of more words, let me share with you in pictures from my Facebook account what people are up against, the situations, a sad result, and a touching tribute.

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