By Bequi Livingston
As we find ourselves in full swing of wildfire season, it also brings a multitude of wildfire anniversaries. For me, the Dude Fire first comes to mind, which took the lives of five members of the Perryville Inmate crew and a Corrections Officer on June 26, 1990. In 2024, a memorial park was dedicated to the Dude Fire victims, with a documentary coming out soon.
Shortly after, comes Yarnell Hill, which claimed the lives of 19 members of the Granite Mountain Hotshot crew on June 30, 2013, with South Canyon, on the heels, claiming the lives of 14 elite firefighters on July 6, 1994. There are so many more, including Rattlesnake, Thirtymile, Battlement Mesa, and Mann Gulch. There are others that are tucked in among them; too many to recall, yet every single event requires remembrance and a time of contemplation for those that were lost and injured, and those left behind to grieve.
Last Memorial Day, 2024, I had the honor of being the keynote speaker at the annual remembrance commemoration, held at the New Mexico Fallen Wildland Firefighter Memorial, settled in the serene Smokey Bear Historical Park, where Smokey Bear is buried in Capitan. Here, among the pines, is a bronze statue of a wildland firefighter, aside the plaque naming those that have lost their lives in New Mexico wildfires. For several years, the Smokey Bear Historical Park has been hosting this commemorative event, for the families and friends of the fallen, remembering those that have been lost, while supporting those left behind to grieve. The celebration is by invitation only to the families and friends of the fallen, along with other local wildland firefighters and special guests.
The 2024 event started with a bagpiper escorting people to their seats, followed by a welcome and prayer, and then my keynote speech, which I had to read, line by line, in order to keep my focus with all the emotions it brought up. My daughter Amity, was among the group, representing Bernalillo County Sheriff’s Office who lost 3 BCSO crewmembers, and one BCFD crewmember on their Metro One BCSO helicopter, while supporting a wildfire in Northern New Mexico on July 16, 2022. Ironically, my daughter had been on the Air Unit. deciding to take time off to focus on her work as a Deputy; otherwise, she could have easily been on that helicopter. That event took this mother to her knees, as tears welled up in my eyes as I spoke, glancing to see my daughter seated there in front of me, giving me strength and encouragement to speak my truth. She became my Touchpoint of Hope, helping to support and ground me when I was really struggling to get my words out.
The event was beautiful, with each name being read, s-l-o-w-l-y, to the chime of the bell, as the bagpipe touched our heartstrings with its serenade. Snacks were provided afterwards, giving everyone a chance to share stories of their loved ones. My speech included a poem that I wrote around the theme, Touchpoints of Hope, as suggested to me by my good friend Mary Lavin, Manager of the Smokey Bear Historical Park.
A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A WILDLAND FIREFIGHTER
by Bequi Livingston
The thunderstorm rolls in with lightning ablaze.
We look towards the mountains with a purposeful gaze.
Binoculars in hand as we intensely look for smoke.
As the fury of the fire storm suddenly awoke.
The ring of the fire bell, as we’re called into place.
Assembling our fire gear as we quicken our pace.
Chainsaws and hand tools, Pulaski’s and more.
We think of our loved ones as we walk out the door.
Once on the wildfire, the adrenaline pumps.
Whether digging a fire line, in the air, or smoke jumps.
We all are gathered here in the place we call home.
Doing a job we all love, knowing we’re never alone.
Our head is held high, with our boots on the ground;
The Pulaski swings wide, as it clears the hard mound.
The pack on our back feels like lead on our hips;
“Bump Up”, says the crew boss, as we curse from our lips.
The whir of the copter blades, hums out a tune,
As the pilot maneuvers, on the edge of a spoon.
The Bambi bucket sways full of water to drop,
On a long line beneath it as the water just plops.
The airplane above us as it circles the fire;
Whether ‘eyes in the sky’ or another desire.
The smokejumpers exit, as parachutes fill with air.
The pilot who flies with grace, our lives in their care.
The Engine crews come on scene with hoses laid out,
Pumping water from the nearby lake, never in doubt.
The dispatchers standing by, with radio in hand,
Supporting us through every vocal command.
Once the fire subsides and it’s time for a break;
We assemble in fire camp as long as it takes.
Eating MRE’s from a plastic bag, or catered galore.
We sleep on the ground, with the generators roar.
Then it’s back to the line, once again at daybreak,
Another long shift, as we struggle to stay awake.
Hours turn into days, and days turn into weeks.
As our body writhes with pain, of which we never speak.
We return to our loved ones, the ones always left behind.
As we struggle to grasp our reality off the fire line.
It’s hard to sit still as fire pulses through our veins.
We can’t wait to go back to this world of chronic stress and pain.
It’s all that we know, it’s what we love most.
This chaos called wildfire, of which we all boast.
Yet, it’s here in this place that we forget who we are.
But this is the job that we all love and admire.
Yet, it’s the invisible wounds that tend to tear us apart.
The grief and the trauma, the ache in our hearts.
The unspoken horrors, the tears we can’t cry.
We’ve felt so much craziness, yet we can’t reason why.
It’s here in the place, that can take us to our knees.
Affecting our health, through chronic disease.
Our loved ones feel lost, as they too feel grief.
The people we’ve lost, the things we have seen.
It’s so hard to explain how this place feels to us.
Words can’t begin to describe the incredible loss.
We know we need help but there seems nowhere to turn.
Yet, we know we must reach out and get help in return.
We are all humans here in this place we call home.
And wildfire beckons us back to our bones.
And just like the wildfire that brings life back to earth.
We must trust the great process through fire and rebirth.
And, just like the Phoenix bird that rises above,
Bursting forth from the ashes, filled with compassion and love.
This majestic bird teaches us how to rise and to cope.
Leaving us all feeling grateful, knowing there are TOUCHOINTS of HOPE.
During this wildfire season, may you honor those that have been lost in a way that is meaningful to you. I invite you to take time for silent contemplation and stillness on each of the anniversaries, sitting with your own grief, in whatever way feels safe and supportive. We do such a good job, in this wildland culture, to let these important moments pass us by, busying ourselves in order not to feel our own grief. May this inspire you to take time for your self-care first, and perhaps become a Touchpoint of Hope for somebody else that might be in need of support.
Be safe, be brave and take good care of YOU.
Bequi Livingston was the first woman recruited by the New Mexico-based Smokey Bear Hotshots for its elite wildland firefighting crew. She was the Regional Fire Operations Health and Safety Specialty for the U.S. Forest Service in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
