Memorials

2019 Prineville Hotshots (plus an ardent fan)

We travelled to our Prineville rental last spring with family intending to take my nephews to the Hotshot memorial. It’s dedicated to the 9 Prineville Hotshots and 5 other firefighters caught in a firestorm on Storm King Mountain at Colorado’s South Canyon Fire. That fire was 27 years ago, but I made a vow not to forget.

What could I say to my nephews, ages 13 and 14 at the time, to show that life is short, and faith, words, actions (choices) matter? I didn’t know what to say except that I knew some of those men and women taken too soon from this life. I’d grown up with one of them. Most of the hotshot crew members started out as strangers but by the end of each difficult fire season, they felt more like family. Looking at the memorial, I didn’t want my emotions to overwhelm, but also didn’t want to sound like a tour guide. Maybe I could share a few stories about the ones I knew. Help my nephews see beyond the old photo on the plaque.

I didn’t get the chance. The day we would’ve gone, both boys came down with high fevers. With a raging fear of COVID-19, we returned home to quarantine and wait for the flu that didn’t come. (It hit us 9 months later.) Yet another reminder that we can’t see what’s coming. Good or bad, ready or not, here it comes. The adage, “Live each day as if it were your last” has some merit. 

A few months before my mom passed on, she started saying I love you daily. Something she didn’t say when I was young, but decades later knew her heart was failing. Everyday. Lest there be any doubt. I appreciate it more as time passes. When I tell someone I love them, it’s not just something nice to say. (Sometimes I hear those words casually said when actions say otherwise.)

I hope to have another chance to visit the memorial with family. I’ll try again because I love them— both my relatives and those hard-working, little-bit-crazy wild-land firefighters I once worked shoulder to shoulder with and had the privilege to know.