My dad is a rockstar!

Warning:  This is not a back-related post.  I feel like telling about my fun weekend, though, so here goes...

On Saturday, my tiny baby sister graduated from high school.  My dad took it upon himself a year or two ago to run for school board, so he was handing out diplomas.  He gave my lil buddy her diploma and a big hug.  I teared up.  My dad is also the fire chief in the little town where they live.  He started working with the fire department a few years ago and took the whole family along.  He, my good mom, and both of my sisters are now firefighters.  My dad is an excellent writer and has written grants for them to get much more training and essential equipment.  They are not your average hillbilly volunteer firefighters.  I would set them down in the middle of any major city and expect them to give "professional" firefighters a run for their money.

The family has really pushed the Junior firefighter program, partly because when they started, the sisters were too young to be actual FF.  But also because there just isn't a whole lot of appealing and constructive outlets for young people way out there in the sticks.  Our family has developed a relationship with the H's through all of this.  (In fact, my other little sister is marrying an H-boy in June.)  The youngest H-boy is my baby sister's age and has also been heavily involved in the Junior's program.  Last year there was a training accident involving baby sister and the young H-boy.  He was badly hurt and had to spend time in the hospital and rehab for a traumatic brain injury.  Baby sister got some bumps and bruises.  She and my dad didn't sleep for weeks.  H-boy graduated along with my baby sister on Saturday.  My dad handed him his diploma and gave him a big hug.  I cried.  Good Mom cried.  I suspect there were others, but I didn't look around for them.

After graduation, we stopped by the M's, whose Junior FF daughter also graduated.  As we were sitting on their deck (that she built for her senior project...wow!), a storm came rolling in and the county FireCom started calling for stormspotters.  My dad got up to go, and like any kid, I asked, "Hey, can I go?"  "Sure!"  So we hopped in the car, and he took off like a bat outta hell for the fire station.  He grabbed a coat and hat for me, and we climbed in the "medical truck."  He drove us out to the edge of town and we watched the clouds.  There were a few funnel clouds off in the distance, and he explained what we were looking for.  The radio was abuzz with all the funnel cloud sightings from our southeast.  After awhile, the hail started.  At first it was tiny, like the head of a pin, then pea-sized, then dime, and nickel, before turning to quarter.  It passed, and the next round was far off in the distance.  Dad decided to check out what was going on in town, so we went back.  There was some debris lying around: shrubs, trash cans, tree branches.  He drove us toward the south of town and pulled into a lot.  We looked above the truck into some dark clouds.  I said, "Dad, that one has rotation."  He waited for the radio traffic to clear to ask the dispatcher to sound the tornado siren again.  It got suddenly dark around us, and the debris...leaves and branches blew all around us.  The truck rocked violently, and the noise of the wind was deafening.  I looked at my dad, who looked at me and mouthed, "Tornado!"  By then, the debris had changed direction and the tornado moved on.  It was small and didn't cause much damage that we could see.  There was a tree across the roadway and another fire truck showed up with a chain saw.  That guy cut, and we pulled limbs and branches off the road.  The storms had mostly passed.  Awhile later, Dad put up the truck, and we headed back to the house.

Before I left, my Hubs called and asked, "So what did you do all day?"

I told him, "Went to graduation, ate some BBQ, and hung out in a tornado in a fire truck with my dad."

Hubs: "Nice."

"You know that's how we roll."