Each year the silent parade of fire equipment from Park Forest and neighboring fire departments rolls past our house in an impressive display of flashing lights. Only the hushed rumble of trucks and ambulances breaks the silence of the darkening night. When we can, we stand and silently salute this proud patrol with flashlights in hand, wig-wagging soundless thank-yous.
For 36 years the fire department has held this parade honoring those who have died or been seriously injured fighting fires. This year’s parade will be at 7 p.m. Oct. 13 and, as in the past, will be preceded by a short memorial service in St. Irenaeus Catholic Church at 6:30 p.m. From 9 a.m. to noon Oct. 15, the doors to the station house will be open to the public for tours and such. The firefighters and paramedics are often the first responders to a crisis. Consider yourself among the fortunate if you have never instantly needed an ambulance at your door or been awakened at night by the terrifying smell of smoke. It is a fearsome experience.
Sweet journey
The last hummingbird, a fat little flitter, left over the weekend. Hopefully, its 2,500-mile journey southward to Mexico or Central America will be made easier by the vast amounts of sugar-water nectar it sipped from our feeder in the back yard. Because they travel so far, they are among the first to leave. “Gotta go,” it whispers between split-seconds sips from the feeder. “Sorry to eat ‘n’ dip, but times a’ wastin'”
These birds are among the most intriguing of creatures, keeping time faster than the blink of an eye or the throb of a heart. The books say hummingbirds can flap their wings about 50 times a second and can fly at speeds of more than 30 miles an hour. Feeding hummingbirds can maintain their stable flight in a turbulent wind tunnel. They can move their bodies sideways to shake off rain drops which can weigh as much as 30 percent of the weight of the bird.
But most impressive is that these birds, the smallest of which can weigh as little as a Lincoln penny, are among the sturdiest of animals, with life spans ranging up to 10 years.
Bon voyage, little guy.
Still waiting
We talked about this earlier in the year, but the time is right to recall two fond memories.
On Aug. 14, 1945, I gripped my mother’s hand as we walked along State Street from Van Buren Avenue to Lake Street and back again. It was V-J Day in America. The war was over.
All public transportation leading to and from the Loop was at a standstill and no one seemed to mind. Thousands were crammed into that one street and I imagine thousands more were on the other streets in the downtown area. Confetti was everywhere. Horns were tooting and people were singing and shouting. It was almost impossible to walk unhampered for more than a few steps. End to end and side to side, is seemed to be just one long, loud party.
It should have been.
Two months later, the Cubs were in the World Series, playing Detroit.
At the age of 10 I awaited two sure things. One: We were on the verge of universal peace. Two: the Cubs would play in a lot of World Series.
I am still waiting.
Reality came quickly. My fourth grade teacher at Lawson Grade School allowed us to listen to the seventh game of the Series. When Detroit scored four runs in the first inning, the teacher turned off the radio and told us to open our workbooks.
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Jerry Shnay is a freelance columnist for the Daily Southtown.