Here are a few random thoughts that popped into my head on a snowy day as I waited for my bride's special blueberry muffins to come out of the oven.

We lost two stalwart volunteer firefighters in recent weeks, Jack Barry and Glenn Townsend. Their passing reminded me of the debt we owe them and our neighbors, the dedicated men and women who staff our volunteer fire departments.

We would be up the proverbial creek without them. Think about it for a moment. They do a good job under tough circumstances.

In big cities, professional firefighters have a big advantage – water. When they are called out, they know they will be able to hook up their engines to an almost unlimited supply of the water they need to save a home.

In many cases, our local volunteers may have to spend much of their effort just to acquire the water they desperately need to do their job. Shuttling tankers back and forth between water supply and a department pumper is just a fact of life in rural volunteer fire departments.

Of course, there are other challenges, as firefighting has gotten more complicated in the last 25 years.

The last generation of firefighters or "smoke eaters," the brave ones who burst into a blazing structure protected only by a hard hat and a rubberized raincoat and boots, armed with a leaky hose, have retired.

I remember watching as those old firemen dragged heavy hoses out of a blazing home as it was ready to collapse. When they took a break, they couldn't wait to sit on the curb and cough out the black goo from their lungs. Then they would laugh, and fumble for a cigarette.

Today, even our little volunteer departments are equipped with air packs and special fire-resistant turnout gear. It increases the members' chances of survival by something like 1,000%. And, thank you, only a few of them smoke cigarettes.

Despite the equipment innovations, close interdepartmental cooperation, training in incident command standards, and common communications, it is still darned hard work. Our volunteers give up nights and weekends, learning their craft, polishing their skills, and catching up on the latest technical innovations.

Someone has to maintain the equipment, too.

In the dead of winter, they might be rousted out of a warm bed. Then they drive their vehicles to a fire ground where they must battle both old man winter and fire. It is a cold, nasty, miserable task.

Once in a while, they pry passengers out of crumpled cars, or fish victims out of the water. Sometimes, these same victims are friends and neighbors.

Remember, these are not highly paid professionals, with generous benefits and guaranteed pension plans. Our local departments are staffed with volunteers.

They are our neighbors, insurance men, realtors, clerks, contractors, fishermen, men and women, old guys and youngsters who volunteer to help us all. Sure, they are paid a few bucks for their services, but really, their compensation is a pittance. In my mind, our taxpayers are getting a heck of a deal for the money they spend on fire service.

We depend on our neighbors, the volunteers, to come to our aid, whether it is to put out a little trash fire that escaped a spring cleanup project, or (God forbid!) a major conflagration. If they don't show up, we are just out of luck.

Here are a few little things we can and should do to make their lives easier. Always pull over when you see a volunteer firefighter in your rear view mirror. When you come upon an accident scene with emergency vehicles parked along the side of the road, please, please, pull over and give them room. And, if there happens to be a fire hydrant in your neighborhood, it would be a big help if you take the time to cut down the grass and weeds from around it. This simple act could save firefighters a couple of minutes when they hook up.

And, come to think about it, they might be fighting a fire at your house.

We are sad to lose firefighters like Jack Barry and Glenn Townsend, brave men who always answered the bell. An old fire chief once told me: “Firefighting is simple. You just put the wet stuff on the red stuff.”

He forgot to add heart and grit and dedication.

Bless them all.

Correction: Last week, I said the yacht Blue Dolphin, once docked in East Boothbay, rests on the bottom of the Detroit River on the Canadian side. Ron Ginger tells me I was wrong. He said she is on the bottom of a Detroit river canal on the American side. Sad in any case. Thanks, Ron.