Monday, August 29, 2011

A Firefighter's Wife

This is what I am - a firefighter's wife.  My husband is an Asheville Firefighter and 100 percent of the time, I am proud of this.  There is never a moment that I wish he did anything else.  Hayne did not discover his profession until we were married for a few years and our daughter Laela was on the way.  He operated a small film business at the time and realized he needed to find something that was more regular. That was when someone proposed the idea of fire fighting.  He was immediately drawn to the idea, while I was thinking this was just some fantasy that every man has at some time or other - to be a cop, a firefighter, in the military - all very manly, but seriously, is that what you really want to do, or does it just sound cool?  Well, turns out, that it was exactly what he wanted to do, and he spent the next year pursuing it.  Hayne went to training school to become a firefighter, and not only loved the entire training process but excelled in every way a student could.  A year later he was on line with the city of Asheville. Both of us were thrilled.  Even with the difficulties that come with any job, there is never a day Hayne does not want to go to work.  He has told me that many times.  I loved to teach, still do, but there were MANY mornings I woke up wishing I could take the day off.  Hayne absolutely loves what he does.  He gets to help people.  Firefighters walk into the worst day of someone's life and offer hope.  It comes in many different forms, but regardless of what the call entails, they are entering into someone's pain - sometimes a life threatening pain.  Hayne loves this about his job - every firefighter I know loves this about their job.  It is what drives them to be great - they love to help people.  They want to literally save the day, but this job does not come without a price.
In all honesty, I do not think about the danger involved in what Hayne does as a firefighter.  There are a few reasons for this.  One, I know how well trained he is and that everyone he works with is trained the same way.  Two, Asheville department has excellent safety standards and well trained officers to enforce them.  Three, Hayne is smart and He is not going to do anything that would put his life in jeopardy unless it was to save someone else.  But there is the rub.  If someone else is in Jeopardy, he would do anything to save them - anything.  Any of the Asheville fire fighters would do the same.
Last month tragedy struck the Asheville Fire Department when a respected and loved veteran of the fire department was killed in a fire.  I did not know Captain Jeff Bowen personally.  I do not know his family.  But I know what He did.  Captain Bowen did exactly what he was trained to do and walked into danger, because someone in that burning office building might need his help.  He knew the risk, he knew it was dangerous, he knew the air was short, and he went anyway.   That is what Captain Bowen was trained to do, and that is what he did.  There was a price that was paid for what he did.  The price paid was that a wife lost her husband and children lost their dad, because this is what firefighters do.  Stacy Bowen is a firefighter's wife.  She is one who knew what her husband did and was proud of him for every moment he fought for the lives of other people.  She is one who knew there was great risk in everything her husband did, but was so proud of him for every moment of it.  As I said, I do not know her, but I understand her and I love her and I love her husband, because I too am a firefighter's wife.  I too know what Hayne does on a regular basis for the good of other people - to help them, protect them and maybe even save them.  I could not be more sorry for the loss of Captain Bowen, but it has made me even more aware of what Hayne does, what they all do, and I am grateful.  Grateful that there are men and women willing to do what they do, and they love it.  Grateful that there are families who sacrifice for the good of others.  And grateful that Captain Jeff Bowen was an exceptional captain, firefighter, husband and dad to the very end.  Thank you Captain and Stacy Bowen.  We will forever remember and be grateful for you all.

Captain Jeff Bowen





Visiting Dad at work

Cord in training 

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Laela's first hair cut

My baby girl turned three in May, and I have not once touched her hair with a pair of scissors.  Some of it was sheer determination on my part,  and some of it was pure luck because her hair grew out so beautifully.  However, she is headed to school in a couple weeks and I figured it was time.  So we went to my beautiful and incredibly talented friend Michelle at Illusions Spa in Asheville.  Laela asked to go to Auntie Chelle because that is where Mommy always goes, and she got her first trim.  Michelle even taught me how to braid.  Hopefully, I will not forget how when it is my turn :):)


Doing a little jig before the big event 
She is ready for her close up :)



















Saturday, August 20, 2011

Minnesota 2011



I love Minnesota in the summer time.  It is warm, beautiful, and such a great time to spend on the lake - any lake really.  This year the Johnson family went to Park Rapids, Minnesota, and stayed in a cabin on a lake there.  The entire Johnson clan, nine adults and six children under the age of five, inhabited the Foy's lake house, and after six days we left still liking each other.  It was great to see Laela and Cord enjoy their cousins Davis, Kiki, Preston and Triston.  This time is precious to me because my family is so far away, and I treasure our time with them.  Here are the pictures of what our week together looked like.


Jumping off the dock








The little men :):)




Breakfast with Preston

Yep its morning - I'm not exactly happy about it :)



The cutest girl ever:)


Caleb and Triston

Papa, Nonnie and Wendy cheering on the kids.


Nice jump Preston




Davis learned how to swim this summer.



Sweet Boy!

Anni and Kiki

My water baby










What my dad does on vacation....







Campfire time







The sandbar