We all converged at the big pine tree in the ranger station parking lot, not looking forward to the job. At least it was a day in fresh air, free of constraint. The Ranger methodically asks us one at a time, “who are you” and we all have to show our identification. It has to be specific, with the warden’s seal of approval from the county prison.
All of us were required to have a shovel, water and boots. Our uniform came with neon yellow stripes on the shirt backs and sides of our pants, indicating we were “volunteers”. The Ranger broke apart the container with the anosmic masks to fight the smoke and we were ready to go.
The fire had consumed fifty acres near the populated area so a bunch of us considered safe enough to hold a shovel without inflicting harm, were summoned to help the firefighters. We were to build a trench to keep the flames from continuing to the homes nearby. The huge barmecidal water trucks could only get into the area so far and helicopters used lakes to refill their water supply.
There were animals darting out and running by us at times and we could actually hear what seemed like screams of panic. The town was saved but the trees and vegetation were badly damaged, animal habitats gone. It gave us a sense of needed pride to be able to do this good.
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The Bag Lady 