Where has the time gone?
It seems like only last week I was sitting in that tiny room at the county fire department headquarters. Barely big enough for a table and two chairs, it was the best we could get, given the lack of funding to back a program people didn't really believe would get off the ground. Sure, they recognized the necessity of it. They just didn't think it would get the official support it needed anytime soon.
Thankfully the fire department is an awful lot like Boy Scouts. The desire to 'be prepared' meant that when the White Paper came out, the folks at headquarters started making plans to accommodate our own paramedic program. Even though it would be a while before Congress agreed to it – and we all knew they would have to, eventually – LA County didn't want to get caught behind the 8-ball. When a couple of local doctors approached the department about the program, they already had a pretty good idea of what would be involved. It didn't take long before the first paramedic class in LA County was underway and I'm proud to say I was part of it.
Right after training we were tasked to recruit other firefighters. Although I didn't doubt the importance of what the paramedic program could do, without the official sanction it needed I was beginning to worry about our ability to get enough people interested in the job. As I sat in that little office, way too much time to think only added fuel to the fire of worry that burned inside me. We needed the paramedic program badly but from the lack of people walking through the door, I didn't know if we'd be able to do it.
I suppose that's why I was so passionate whenever I had a chance to explain the program to anyone who'd listen. My wife certainly got an earful when I first signed up. Lord knows what I did right to deserve a woman like Joanne but she's always been in my corner when I needed her. I'd go home after one of these information sessions, down on my ability to recruit 'hose jockeys' to the cause, and she would always be there with a sympathetic ear and a rational opinion. Lots of people have said I'm calm and composed under pressure but they have no idea how instrumental my wife has been in keeping me there.
The main problem was that although the men of the department recognized the need for qualified medical personnel in the field, every one of them had signed up to be firefighters. They didn't want to do something else. Hence the nickname 'hose jockey'. It might sound derogatory but it was an accurate description of a job they loved to do. Trying to convince them to join the paramedic program was, for a lot of them, like trying to talk them into quitting firefighting. More than once I'd gone through the explanation that no, they didn't stop being firefighters when they became paramedics. They just had to be paramedics first whenever it was needed.
Too few signed up in those days, in my opinion. I was beginning to lose hope. I started questioning my ability as a recruiter, going over my spiel in my head to find the flaws in my approach. Originally I'd gone in with notes and documents containing facts and information about the program but no one seemed interested. Joanne said it right when I went home that night. "They're men, Roy. Men don't want to read manuals. Tell them why you joined the program."
God, she's brilliant.
Since then I'd managed to garner a little more interest. The numbers were still down but I became more positive about the outcome. The program was still in its infancy, not yet approved for the field, but at least it had gotten up on its knees and started crawling.
I still remember the day Johnny came in to learn about the program. From the start I knew his captain had pushed him to do it. He was never very good at hiding his emotions – not from me, anyway – and the mixture of skepticism and vague disinterest was easy to read on his face. The disinterest faded pretty fast but Johnny held on to the skepticism until the bitter end. I'm not sure what I said that finally changed his mind that day. All I know is that right up until he asked to borrow my pen, I was sure he was going to be one of the many who'd told me they'd 'like to think it over' and never came back.
Ah… Johnny. I would've sworn he was still a boot, fresh out of the academy. He looked so young and eager back then. Little did I know at the time that that fresh-faced innocence was my soon-to-be partner's total outlook on life. Even now, all these years later, Johnny still has the vibrancy and optimism of a five-year-old. Don't get me wrong – he's not naïve by any stretch of the imagination. Johnny just has one of those free spirits that won't be knocked down for long, no matter what happens. If I were to be totally honest, I'd have to admit that I'd probably be bitter and jaded by now if it weren't for him. Johnny has kept me young.
Now that I think about it, that's probably why I've always called him 'Johnny' instead of 'John' the way the other guys on our crew do – did – sometimes. To me, 'John' is a guy who's got a wife and kids and a dog and probably works nine-to-five in a bank somewhere. Not boring, precisely (especially since that description would almost fit me), just… predictable. Johnny is anything but. One thing I learned pretty quick about him is that if he gets quiet, the other shoe is about to drop.
Sometimes I wonder what effect marriage would have on my partner. Johnny's always bouncing from one relationship to the next like a pinball in an arcade game. When I try to picture him with someone like Joanne, a little part of me dies inside. Joanne is a perfect match for me, naturally, but my effervescent partner would wither away in that kind of relationship.
God, that's sounds terrible. I wouldn't change a single thing about my life – not one. For me, it's as close to perfect as any human being could ever hope to get. I'm as deeply in love with my wife today as I was on the day we got married. More, even, because the life we've shared since has only strengthened that bond. My children are a constant source of pride and joy, regardless of how they behave. Every bad day we've had has been countered by a flood of good ones. No… I have zero regrets. I just know that my life wouldn't suit Johnny at all.
We've talked, Johnny and I, about how he would like a relationship like mine. I know he thinks that but deep down what he really needs is someone to share Johnny Gage's special kind of life. I sometimes try to imagine what the perfect woman for him would be like: would she be irrepressible, like him? Flighty? Romantic? Like someone out of a dime-store novel? Or would she be more of an outdoorsy type? Athletic? Animal lover? Tree hugger? Vegetarian?
Although I like to get whimsical about the future Mrs. Gage – who is out there, I have no doubt – I have to admit that, to some degree, she's going to be a lot like me. She'd have to be. Tolerant, flexible and grounded yet ambitious, adventurous and agreeable. Yes, I said adventurous. I can be – to a point. Like I said: Johnny keeps me young.
That brings me to a depressing thought: what's going to happen, now that Johnny and I are no longer partners? We'll still be friends of course, but what kind of friends will we be? Without the schedule that threw us together for twenty four hours at a time, whether we wanted to be or not, will our friendship stay strong? Or will it fade away over time? No matter the promises we made one another after becoming captains, life has its own current. Two people can be thrown together one day and then a change in the tide can make them drift apart, regardless of what they intended. Without his upbeat attitude, his fresh outlook and his boundless enthusiasm, will I become a different person? Will I… get old?
Sounds silly, I know. We all get older. But there's a difference between getting older and getting old. Johnny could explain it better than I can. With age comes wisdom, stability, patience and contentment. But I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about getting old. Stagnant. Routine. Predictable.
Boring.
Johnny's not boring. I can't imagine him that way. If I stretch – really stretch – I can see him as an old man with white hair and stooped shoulders, but that picture always has him laughing and playing with a group of children gathered around him like a gaggle of geese. No matter how I try, it never changes. Takes a lot of effort to conjure that up, though – Johnny's youth seems immortal, sometimes.
I don't know what the future will bring. I'm a captain now, with my own crew to look after. I hope that I'm as good at it as Captain Stanley is. I'm going to miss him and the guys at the station, but I'm ready for this chapter of my life. I only hope that someday I'll be able to look back on my years as captain and say that I was a damn good one. I have a pretty good role model in Hank Stanley but I think… I think I have another in Johnny Gage, too. Marco would laugh, Chet would ask me if I'd lost my mind and Mike would shake his head quietly but I know it's true. Hank's leadership and my experience tempered with Johnny's enthusiasm… Sounds like a good mix to me.
