THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Tuesday, February 14, 1995 TAG: 9502140058
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E4 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: Mom, I'm Bored
SOURCE: Sherrie Boyer
LENGTH: Medium: 67 lines
MY NEIGHBOR, the mother of three sons, once described her boys' vision of the perfect day: dirt, water, plastic dinosaurs. But the best part was a trip to the fire station.
We like the fire station too, so it's amazing to me that it's been two years since we visited one. Then, Maddie wasn't quite two and Sam was just a babe in arms. Allio had a blast. But it was definitely time to visit again. To pat the wheels, sit in the big trucks, try on the boots and stare at the lights.
Anyone can visit a firehouse. The firefighters at stations we visited say it's fine for individual families to just stroll up when the trucks are home. If things are peaceful, someone will likely offer to show you around. You'll need this guide especially if the children want to sit in the driver's seat.
But you'll also want the guide to answer the questions you can't, from how to get the lights flashing to why there are so many numbers on any particular dial.
For an organized tour, and fire departments love to do these, you need to make a reservation. Small groups are fine. For information on a tour, school visit, or to doublecheck which stations you may want to visit, call your city's fire prevention center.
One morning, Sam and I dropped the girls at their respective classrooms and headed downtown. Sam was excited. But then he asked if the fire station had trains.
I just laughed and kept driving. Only when we stood in the bitter wind, with fire trucks in sight, did I realize Sam was serious.
``No, Mummy. I want to see trains.''
We shivered. Sam curled into a mournful little ball around my knees mumbling about trains. I edged a little closer to Fire Station 1 in downtown Norfolk, hoping the massive building would block the wind. We stood hand-in-hand then, peering through the glass garage doors at nearly a dozen red, yellow or white emergency trucks, ambulances, and cars.
``Well, Sam,'' I finally asked. ``What do you think?'' I'll never know if it was the weather or true desire, but Sam headed for the door.
Inside, he was the cute two-year-old, toddling ahead, pointing out the wheels, hoses, ladders and yellow hats. He balked when a fireman offered to lift him into the driver's seat of the biggest rig, but giggled and had to sit in all three of the tiny ambulance go-carts built to weave through a festival crowd.
He admired the chief's car, full of fire hats and coats, the rescue raft and a red communications bus. But then he was done. And we left to a stream of questions about why the building didn't have trains.
So Saturday, we visited again. On hearing the plan, Maddie bounced excitedly and couldn't get her shoes on fast enough. Sam, however, opted to stay at home with his toy trains.
At the fire station, my talkative Maddie, nearly four, suddenly became shy and quiet, awed by the cavernous garage filled with fire engines. Firefighter Danny Adams scooped her in and out of driver seats, stood her in his boots and firepants, and even turned on the flashing lights.
Speechless, Maddie could only grin, but that she did, from ear-to-ear.
If you want to visit a station her are the phone numbers of some fire prevention or fire marshall numbers: Chesapeake, 547-6165; Norfolk, 441-2481; Portsmouth, 393-8689; Suffolk, 539-6471; Virginia Beach, 427-3580 (then touch 460). For additional numbers, check the blue pages of the phone book. by CNB