Amerikai Magyar Hírlap, 2009 (21. évfolyam, 1-50. szám)

2009-09-11 / 34. szám

Fighting the Angeles Forest Fire I was coming home from one of my trips to the city that has no clocks, and very little news. They say what happens there stays there, and what happens elsewhere rarely makes it in. I was still on top of the world from my fabulous results in the tour­nament, my thoughts full of the luxurious suite at the palatial hotel, the games, the food, and the magic of my favorite resort. The Southwest plane was on time, as usual, even though it had landed only moments before. As I entered the cabin, I lifted up my luggage (no easy task) and slipped it into the first available slot. Then I walked on to see if I could find my usual window seat. There was a solo guy sitting in the isle seat in row 8, on the right side of the plane. “Do you mind if I sit in there?,” I asked and he politely got out of his seat to let me in. He had a rugged face, a lean and strong build. Impossible to tell his age. We exchanged a few words, like where you come from, and where you going. I did not quite get what he was saying, about going to some Dam, like Hanson Dam or something, in Lake View Terrace. Why would anyone want to go there? Is he visiting someone, or does he work there? He pointed to the insignia on his dark blue shirt, and said, “I am a firefighter.” He said he was sent here from Utah to help fight the fire in the Angeles Forest, near Los Angeles. Firefighters sleep at the Hansen Dam Park, the site of a makeshift command post set up to fight a wildfire in the San Gabriel Mountains near Los Angeles Frankly, I had no idea there was a fire in L.A. The only time I sat in front of the TV was just before leaving for the airport, and then I was watching Ted Kennedy’s funeral service. I never liked the man, and now I felt that I may have misjudged him. All I knew about him, other than that he was a Democrat, was the unfortunate affair at Chappaquidick. Now listening to his colleagues and family members eulo­gize him in glowing terms, it seemed to me that he had spent the rest of his life atoning for it. And he did manage to redeem himself. I told my neighbor about my daughter Kat who had been a firefighter for a year. I told him how they got rid of her saying that she “looked tired” after cutting apart a whole car with a heavy tool at the 9- month exam. Although I loved all the free time she used to have in her schedule, I explained, I am glad she is not fighting fires any more. I was always wor­ried about her, that she might get hurt. He said his parents felt the same way about his job. He grew up in L.A., he said, and his parents still live there. At this point I told him about our restaurant, and gave him a newspaper so he can find his way there. My neighbor spent the rest of the flight sleeping, and I was enjoying every minute of the flight. It was a short one, I could already feel the plane having started the descent towards Burbank. The captain’s voice came through the loudspeaker: “Ladies and gentleman, soon we’ll be landing at Bob Hope Air­port in Burbank, slightly ahead of time. But first we have to fly over the area of the fires. Don’t be alarmed when you see the smoke.” Alarmed? What does he mean? It was a beautiful, clear summer day, just past noontime, you could see every speck of dust on the ground, and we were almost home free. Suddenly, we found our­selves in a soup of thick white smoke. At first, it looked no different from when you fly through a cloudy sky. It got heavier and darker as we proceeded. Soon it was dark as night all around us, and you could smell the smoke inside the plane. It was scary, and an eerie silence descended on the plane as we were passing through the darkness, with the acrid smell of smoke in our nostrils. By the time the journalist in me took over, striv­ing to take a picture, it was almost too late. Looking back, I saw the dark brown wall of smoke receding, revealing billows of white smoke that from a distance seemed like several huge explosions. Something like the World Trade Center before it collapsed. Or the mushroom cloud of an atom bomb. Now I understood what my neighbor was trying to tell me. These few moments brought home the seriousness and the extent of the threat. I thanked him and his teammates for what they do, so that we can be safe and comfortable in our homes. He said that was his job, although sometimes he feels he is getting too old for it. He has been fighting fires for over thirty years! The landing in Burbank was the usual small mir­acle in our day: one moment, the smooth touchdown, and the next, we are parked at the gate. My neighbor looked outside and sighed with relief: “There is one of my bags! And the other too! How could I do my job without them?” “Do you carry your equipment with you?” - I asked, remembering from Kat’s firefighting days how heavy the suit and boots were. Yes, he said, I just barely got away with the weight at check in, with 49 pounds. - Don’t you get a special allowance when you go to help out with fires? He said no. He helped to get my luggage down from the rack, the suitcase that I had struggled to lift up there seemed like a feather in his strong hands. Just before the line started to move, I asked his name. “Glenn” - he said. - “My name is Glenn.” “Stay safe, Glenn, and God bless you.” * * * Already out in front of the building, I was calling my husband to tell him that we landed. As I stood there in the shade waiting for him, I suddenly saw Glenn emerge with two huge red bags - the kind my daughter used to have when she was a firefighter. He was dragging an enormous cylindrical red canvas sports bag with wheels in the right hand and a similar square one in the left, with two smaller beige bags thrown over his shoulder. He seemed to be crushed by the weight, especially since it was 100 degrees Fahrenheit at 1:30 p.m. in Burbank. I wanted to take a picture of him but again, it was a delayed reaction. I just stood there mesmerized, watching his figure get smaller and smaller and finally disappear behind a bus at the bus stop. I took no picture of him, but it was forever etched on my mind, this figure burdened by weight and heat, and this was just the beginning for him. Soon he would be face to face with the fire and much worse heat, in his heavy gear. It was so strong on my mind that I sat down on the stone bench, took out my notebook and made a drawing of him, as I remembered. I’m so glad I thanked Glenn for his courage and sacrifice, for all he did so that we can be safe and, free of problems in our homes. Thanks again, Firefighter, stay safe and God bless you! BY SUSAN JANCSO San Francisco Celebrated Hungarian National Day Photo: Charlotte Maillard-Shultz, Chief of Protocol of the State of California and the City and County of San Francisco and Eva E.Voisin, Honorary Consul General of Hungary, San Francisco, raising the flag at San Francisco City Hall . San Francisco celebrated Hungarian National Day by raising the flag at City Hall on August 20. Ms. Shultz presented a Resolution honoring Hungary to Eva E.Voisin and told the guests that her husband, Dr. George Shultz, had many fond memories of Budapest, where he visited often during his tenure has Secretary of State. This Warning came to us by way of the Inter­net, about the latest method bad guys use to steal your car. Don't be a victim! San Bernardino County Sheriff's Department Warning..!!!! Warning..!!!! Warning..!!!! Just last weekend on Friday night we parked in a public parking area. As we drove away I noticed a sticker on the rear window of the car. When I took it off after I got home, it was a receipt for gas. Luckily my friend told me not to stop as it could be someone waiting for me to get out of the car. Then we received this email yesterday: WARNING FROM POLICE. This applies to both women and men. Beware of PAPER ON THE BACK WINDOW OF YOUR VEHICLE - NEW WAY TO DO CARJACKINGS (NOT A JOKE) Heads up everyone! Please, keep this circulating... You walk across the parking lot, unlock your car and I get inside. You start the engine and shift into Reverse. I When you look into the rearview mirror to back out of j your parking space, you notice a piece of paper stuck to I the middle of the rear window.. So, you shift into Park, I unlock your doors, and jump out of your car to remove j that paper (or whatever it is) that is obstructing your j view. When you reach the back of your car, that is when the carjackers appear out of nowhere, jump int o your car and take off. They practically mow you down as they speed off in your car. And guess what, ladies? I bet your purse is still in the car. So now the carjacker has your car, your home address, your money, and your keys. Your home and your whole identity are now compromised! BEWARE OF THIS NEW SCHEME THAT IS NOW BEING USED. If you see a piece of paper stuck to your back window, just drive away. Remove the paper later.. And be thank­ful that you read this warning. A purse contains all kinds of personal information and identification docu­ments, and you certainly do NOT want this to fall into the wrong hands. LAX-BUD-LAX $535 •-ÍŐ1 +Tax -t-Fee április 1-től Információért hívják ZSUZSÁT TEL: (310) 652-5294 FAX: (310) 652-5287 1-888-532-0168 DUNA Travel 8530 Holloway Dr. #102 W. Hollywood, CA 90069 Spa, Hotel foglalások, Kocsi bérlés Kedvezményes repülőjegy árak i-—, , ,, ^subscribetoX Szeptember l_b 2(M)9^ THE HÍRLAP! fi

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