One of the important off-season tasks has been the overhauling of the competitor biography information database.
We have expunged all of the data and will start afresh this season. Clearly, some of the archival data were dated.
It is our intention to use everyone's biography once they step out on the course. You earned it.
Think of it this way: a batter steps into the box. What about this guy do I want to know? What would make him interesting? What drives her to compete.
We don't need a long narrative. But what about you do you think people might find to be interesting?
How many runs on the course? What's your personal best? Do you have a personal goal.
The announcer will have access to your Lion's Den membership- when you made it and where.
This "baseball card" synopsis will add interest for everyone.
Timely thoughts and relevant information for fire-athletes...©, 2023
Monday, February 25, 2019
Tuesday, February 19, 2019
How Many Push-Ups You Can Do Could Predict Your Risk of Heart Disease
Scientists have identified what they think could be a simple, practical test to predict people's heart health, and it's about as quick as saying, "Drop and give me 40".
In a new study led by Harvard University, researchers found that men's ability to do more than 40 push-ups was linked with significantly reduced risk of serious heart problems over the next 10 years – in some cases slashing risk by as much as 96 percent.
"Our findings provide evidence that push-up capacity could be an easy, no-cost method to help assess cardiovascular disease risk in almost any setting," says occupational medicine resident Justin Yang from the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health.
"Surprisingly, push-up capacity was more strongly associated with cardiovascular disease risk than the results of submaximal treadmill tests."
Of course, the ability to do 40 push-ups in the first place is generally indicative of a high level of physical fitness – especially among middle-aged men, which is what the group the researchers were studying.
So it's not exactly news that being physically fit reduces your risk of cardiovascular disease (CVD) events – such as heart attacks and developing coronary artery disease.
But what's new and useful here is the ability to predict these kinds of health problems with such a simple, universal test – and with what looks to be greater accuracy than expensive equipment like treadmills.
Not that the results we have now necessarily apply to everyone. In the study, Yang and his team studied a relatively niche cohort: 1,104 active male firefighters, with an average age of 39.6 at the beginning of the study. These participants were observed over the space of a decade.
During the 10-year study, 37 of these men experienced CVD-related outcomes, such as heart failure, sudden cardiac death, or receiving a diagnosis of coronary artery disease.
What's interesting, though, is that of all those 37 men, all but one were participants who weren't able to complete over 40 push-ups in their baseline physical exam at the outset of the study.
Broadly speaking, the team observed lower CVD risks in all groups with higher push-up capacity, but if you could do above 40 push-ups (out of a maximum 80 in the baseline test), the results put you in a much healthier place compared to those whose capacity is low.
"Participants able to complete more than 40 push-ups had a 96 percent reduction in incident CVD events compared with those completing fewer than 10 push-ups," the authors write in their paper.
It's worth noting that male firefighters aren't representative of other segments of society as a whole, so the results seen here wouldn't necessarily be reproduced in other people, which the researchers acknowledge.
But it's still a finding that bears further consideration in follow-up studies, especially since gauging push-up capacity is such a relatively easy clinical test for health professionals to conduct with patients who are physically able to undergo it.
"The push-up examination requires no special equipment, is low cost or no cost, can easily be performed in almost any setting within 2 minutes, and provides an objective estimate of functional status," the authors explain.
"It is a quantitative measurement that is easily understood by both the clinician and the patient."
If clinicians adopt the findings, it could be a simple adjustment to physical examinations of patients that are already testing fitness levels.
The adjustment may be simple – and the science may be obvious – but that doesn't mean the takeaways wouldn't potentially be life-saving.
"Push-up capacity is positively correlated with aerobic capacity and physical fitness," senior author of the study and CVD specialist, Stefanos Kales, told Inverse.
"These types of objective functional markers are generally good predictors of mortality."
The findings are reported in JAMA Network Open.
In a new study led by Harvard University, researchers found that men's ability to do more than 40 push-ups was linked with significantly reduced risk of serious heart problems over the next 10 years – in some cases slashing risk by as much as 96 percent.
"Our findings provide evidence that push-up capacity could be an easy, no-cost method to help assess cardiovascular disease risk in almost any setting," says occupational medicine resident Justin Yang from the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health.
"Surprisingly, push-up capacity was more strongly associated with cardiovascular disease risk than the results of submaximal treadmill tests."
Of course, the ability to do 40 push-ups in the first place is generally indicative of a high level of physical fitness – especially among middle-aged men, which is what the group the researchers were studying.
So it's not exactly news that being physically fit reduces your risk of cardiovascular disease (CVD) events – such as heart attacks and developing coronary artery disease.
But what's new and useful here is the ability to predict these kinds of health problems with such a simple, universal test – and with what looks to be greater accuracy than expensive equipment like treadmills.
Not that the results we have now necessarily apply to everyone. In the study, Yang and his team studied a relatively niche cohort: 1,104 active male firefighters, with an average age of 39.6 at the beginning of the study. These participants were observed over the space of a decade.
During the 10-year study, 37 of these men experienced CVD-related outcomes, such as heart failure, sudden cardiac death, or receiving a diagnosis of coronary artery disease.
What's interesting, though, is that of all those 37 men, all but one were participants who weren't able to complete over 40 push-ups in their baseline physical exam at the outset of the study.
Broadly speaking, the team observed lower CVD risks in all groups with higher push-up capacity, but if you could do above 40 push-ups (out of a maximum 80 in the baseline test), the results put you in a much healthier place compared to those whose capacity is low.
"Participants able to complete more than 40 push-ups had a 96 percent reduction in incident CVD events compared with those completing fewer than 10 push-ups," the authors write in their paper.
It's worth noting that male firefighters aren't representative of other segments of society as a whole, so the results seen here wouldn't necessarily be reproduced in other people, which the researchers acknowledge.
But it's still a finding that bears further consideration in follow-up studies, especially since gauging push-up capacity is such a relatively easy clinical test for health professionals to conduct with patients who are physically able to undergo it.
"The push-up examination requires no special equipment, is low cost or no cost, can easily be performed in almost any setting within 2 minutes, and provides an objective estimate of functional status," the authors explain.
"It is a quantitative measurement that is easily understood by both the clinician and the patient."
If clinicians adopt the findings, it could be a simple adjustment to physical examinations of patients that are already testing fitness levels.
The adjustment may be simple – and the science may be obvious – but that doesn't mean the takeaways wouldn't potentially be life-saving.
"Push-up capacity is positively correlated with aerobic capacity and physical fitness," senior author of the study and CVD specialist, Stefanos Kales, told Inverse.
"These types of objective functional markers are generally good predictors of mortality."
The findings are reported in JAMA Network Open.
Tuesday, February 12, 2019
Looking for a Keiser Sled?
There will be an opportunity to pick up a Keiser Force Machine at the end of our week in Orlando, inside the Orange County Convention Center.
Price: $2400.
Interested?
Give Daniel a call: 301.421.4433 x 110
Price: $2400.
Interested?
Give Daniel a call: 301.421.4433 x 110
Sunday, February 10, 2019
Ted Jarboe: Drillmaster Extraordinarily
Ted Jarboe was the consummate fire officer. He had 40 years on the job here in Montgomery County (MD), before retiring to Orlando.
I attended his retirement party and promised that I’d stay in touch. Ted worked on a couple of safety initiatives with me for a national electrical safety association.
I sent him an email last week, inviting him to come to our Collegiate Cup Challenge at the Orange County Convention Center, coincidental with the 66th Annual Meeting of the American Collge of Sports Medicine.
Then, my son Brent, working on B shift today sent me a text that Teddy had passed.
I immediately called his brother Jimmy and expressed my condolences and great appreciation as Ted was the lead instructor for my firefighter basic and advanced classes.
Back in the last century, the University of Maryland’s College of Engineering set all doctrine for certification in the state. I checked my wallet cards, and as I remembered, there was Ted’s signature.
A real giant in the field. Ted had his undergraduate degree from Maryland and was a standout engineer.
Pictures below are some artifacts from our collective past
I attended his retirement party and promised that I’d stay in touch. Ted worked on a couple of safety initiatives with me for a national electrical safety association.
I sent him an email last week, inviting him to come to our Collegiate Cup Challenge at the Orange County Convention Center, coincidental with the 66th Annual Meeting of the American Collge of Sports Medicine.
Then, my son Brent, working on B shift today sent me a text that Teddy had passed.
I immediately called his brother Jimmy and expressed my condolences and great appreciation as Ted was the lead instructor for my firefighter basic and advanced classes.
Back in the last century, the University of Maryland’s College of Engineering set all doctrine for certification in the state. I checked my wallet cards, and as I remembered, there was Ted’s signature.
A real giant in the field. Ted had his undergraduate degree from Maryland and was a standout engineer.
Pictures below are some artifacts from our collective past
 |
| Ted Jarboe must have signed thousands of these cards over the years |
 |
| The University of Maryland would morph into MFRI- a worldwide presence in firefighter training |
Sunday, February 3, 2019
Why the Patriots Are Champions
The Patriotsʼ secret is focusing on the details. Every. Last. Detail.
Sally Jenkins ATLANTA —
“We all want to know it because everybody would like to replicate it if they knew,” says Trent Dilfer, the ex-quarterback turned NFL Network analyst who won the Super Bowl with the Baltimore Ravens in the 2000 season. “Iʼve studied it and tried to understand it, but Iʼd be lying to say I totally did.”
Every NFL club is a complex organism with assets in different departments, but the Patriots more than any team in history are able to resolve all facets into performance on the field in crucial moments. Take those plays in overtime of their AFC championship game victory over the Kansas City Chiefs to reach the Super Bowl: Everyone in the stadium — and the world — knew quarterback Tom Brady would look at Julian Edelman and Rob Gronkowski on third and 10; they got open anyway.
“Theyʼre always on point,” says Los Angeles Rams defensive back Aqib Talib, who played for the Patriots in 2012 and 2013 and won a Super Bowl with Denver in the 2015 season. “They throw the ball so fast, but theyʼre always on point. Thatʼs so tough to do.”
The Patriotsʼ methods to a large extent remain in a lockbox, thanks to Coach Bill Belichickʼs secretive nature: He refused to practice outdoors this week because the field was surrounded by “20-story skyscrapers” that he said offered too good a view. But some things can be gathered from former Patriots or favored broadcasters who have been inside the operation. What emerges is a portrait of a team that simply practices at a more extreme cadence than others and is zealous at even the most minor-seeming tasks. The Patriots personify an old quote from former Miami Dolphins coach Don Shula, who once was asked, “Why donʼt you overlook a little mistake?” Shula answered, “Whatʼs a little mistake?”
The Ramsʼ 33-year-old coach, Sean McVay, got a brief look at the Patriots in 2014 during a joint training camp workout when he was still an assistant with the Washington Redskins. McVay noticed, first of all, that there was not a single rote or apathetic moment: If a player wasnʼt on the field, he was running in an individual drill with a position coach.
“If you knew nothing about football — not a thing — and you just watched them, youʼd say, ‘Thereʼs something different about that team,ʼ ” McVay told NBCʼs Peter King last week.
McVay left the practice with one thought: “Thatʼs what it looks like when itʼs done right.”
Sally Jenkins ATLANTA —
Patriots quarterbacks Brian Hoyer, left, and Tom Brady stand with Coach Bill Belichick during a practice in January. (Steven Senne/AP)
The New England Patriots franchise is a snarling, unkillable monster where
explanations go to die. Try to define how this singular club has made nine
Super Bowls in 18 seasons, and you wind up trapped in a lot of bland,
meaningless generalities about “efficiency” and “execution” that donʼt
come close to capturing its precision-blade offensive excellence or its
hand-in-the-dirt defensive violence or its pure greed for winning. Every NFL
team preaches execution. So how come nobody can imitate the Patriotsʼ
standard of it?
The most knowledgeable NFL observers struggle to analyze the sheer
sustenance of their record, by what method they have maintained such a
perfection-crazed level over two decades when cycles of roster turnover,
burnout and strategic evolution deteriorate every other team.
“We all want to know it because everybody would like to replicate it if they knew,” says Trent Dilfer, the ex-quarterback turned NFL Network analyst who won the Super Bowl with the Baltimore Ravens in the 2000 season. “Iʼve studied it and tried to understand it, but Iʼd be lying to say I totally did.”
Every NFL club is a complex organism with assets in different departments, but the Patriots more than any team in history are able to resolve all facets into performance on the field in crucial moments. Take those plays in overtime of their AFC championship game victory over the Kansas City Chiefs to reach the Super Bowl: Everyone in the stadium — and the world — knew quarterback Tom Brady would look at Julian Edelman and Rob Gronkowski on third and 10; they got open anyway.
“Theyʼre always on point,” says Los Angeles Rams defensive back Aqib Talib, who played for the Patriots in 2012 and 2013 and won a Super Bowl with Denver in the 2015 season. “They throw the ball so fast, but theyʼre always on point. Thatʼs so tough to do.”
The Patriotsʼ methods to a large extent remain in a lockbox, thanks to Coach Bill Belichickʼs secretive nature: He refused to practice outdoors this week because the field was surrounded by “20-story skyscrapers” that he said offered too good a view. But some things can be gathered from former Patriots or favored broadcasters who have been inside the operation. What emerges is a portrait of a team that simply practices at a more extreme cadence than others and is zealous at even the most minor-seeming tasks. The Patriots personify an old quote from former Miami Dolphins coach Don Shula, who once was asked, “Why donʼt you overlook a little mistake?” Shula answered, “Whatʼs a little mistake?”
The Ramsʼ 33-year-old coach, Sean McVay, got a brief look at the Patriots in 2014 during a joint training camp workout when he was still an assistant with the Washington Redskins. McVay noticed, first of all, that there was not a single rote or apathetic moment: If a player wasnʼt on the field, he was running in an individual drill with a position coach.
“If you knew nothing about football — not a thing — and you just watched them, youʼd say, ‘Thereʼs something different about that team,ʼ ” McVay told NBCʼs Peter King last week.
McVay left the practice with one thought: “Thatʼs what it looks like when itʼs done right.”
The great Indianapolis Colts wide receiver Reggie Wayne spent 11 days with
the Patriots in 2015 as a free agent at the end of his career before deciding
to retire. Wayne was a champion worker in his own right, part of a Super
Bowl team under Coach Tony Dungy in the 2006 season. But in his few days
with the Patriots he was struck by the absoluteness of their concentration
and absorption with details that might become critical inflection points in
big games. In one 45-minute meeting on “situational football,” they
reviewed not only the two-minute offense but exactly how players should
give the ball to the referee between plays.
“Lot of guys, you see them toss the ball to the ref,” Wayne says. Not the Patriots. “You donʼt know if the ref can catch or not, so if they drop that ball and itʼs bouncing around, thatʼs time running off the clock.” The Patriots were drilled to sprint to the ref and hand it to him, to get a quicker spot and save a second. They would “go over and over and over it,” Wayne said, and didnʼt seem to resent the monotony.
The conservation of time begins the moment they walk in the building.
“Look, if you show up one minute late, they just tell you to go home for the day,” says former New York Giants Super Bowl quarterback and CBS analyst Phil Simms, a Belichick confidante. The Patriots “set more alarms” than other teams, Talib says, all in the name of “habits.” The time sacrifice requires such cooperation from spouses that safety Devin McCourty said his wife tells him: “Go watch film. I want to go to the Super Bowl. Iʼve got the kids.” Brady remarked this week that he has spent more time with Belichick in his life “than with my parents.”
Thatʼs confirmed by Willie McGinest, defensive cornerstone of the Patriotsʼ 2001, 2003 and 2004 Super Bowl-winning teams. He used to try to beat Belichick to the office. “I would get there at 5 in the morning,” McGinest says. “Once he heard I was coming in, he would be there at 4i30.” The sense of urgency permeates the building, he says, down to the laundry staff. “If the uniform guy donʼt have the uniforms straight and ready to go, somebodyʼs on his ass,” McGinest says.
The same is true on the practice field, where staccato-shouting coaches continually clean up slippage in the technique of the most blooded veterans.
“You go to their practices, theyʼre always setting something straight,” CBS analyst Boomer Esiason says. “Bill will walk over and say, ‘How many times do we got to tell you, stay on the outside, stay on the outside.ʼ ”
When there is a mental mistake, there is no happy talk about it from Belichick says, ‘I donʼt believe in lying to a player.ʼ Itʼs not a franchise for high- priced egos that need flattery.
“If they do, probably the New England Patriots is not the place for them,” Belichick says before pausing. “Look, I think itʼs just about being honest. I donʼt think you tell somebody they did a good job when they didnʼt do a good job. I think if they do a good job, you tell them they did a good job. If they didnʼt do a good job, I think you tell them, ‘Hereʼs what you need to do better.ʼ I donʼt believe in lying to a player.”
By all accounts, the Patriotsʼ ticktock urgency is coupled with an intense physicality in practice few other teams are willing to risk. Simms says of Belichick, “If he could, their ass would be in pads every week.” McGinest recalls that frequently defensive starters would act as the scout team against Bradyʼs offense, mimicking the opponent “because we wanted them to see what it was really going to look like in a game. We would give them their first look — and we would give them a full-speed look.”
Simms witnessed a practice two years ago, as the Patriots were readying to play the Pittsburgh Steelers in the 2016 AFC championship game. Simms was “shocked at the pace,” given that it was the postseason, and at the fierceness with which they went at each other. On one play, Brady threw a pass out to Edelman, his close friend and favorite target. It was a bad throw that tailed into the dirt. Edelmen dived down to get it, caught his cleats in the grass and face-planted in the turf. He got up with a clod of dirt in his face mask and began cursing Brady for lousy execution.
“Lot of guys, you see them toss the ball to the ref,” Wayne says. Not the Patriots. “You donʼt know if the ref can catch or not, so if they drop that ball and itʼs bouncing around, thatʼs time running off the clock.” The Patriots were drilled to sprint to the ref and hand it to him, to get a quicker spot and save a second. They would “go over and over and over it,” Wayne said, and didnʼt seem to resent the monotony.
The conservation of time begins the moment they walk in the building.
“Look, if you show up one minute late, they just tell you to go home for the day,” says former New York Giants Super Bowl quarterback and CBS analyst Phil Simms, a Belichick confidante. The Patriots “set more alarms” than other teams, Talib says, all in the name of “habits.” The time sacrifice requires such cooperation from spouses that safety Devin McCourty said his wife tells him: “Go watch film. I want to go to the Super Bowl. Iʼve got the kids.” Brady remarked this week that he has spent more time with Belichick in his life “than with my parents.”
Thatʼs confirmed by Willie McGinest, defensive cornerstone of the Patriotsʼ 2001, 2003 and 2004 Super Bowl-winning teams. He used to try to beat Belichick to the office. “I would get there at 5 in the morning,” McGinest says. “Once he heard I was coming in, he would be there at 4i30.” The sense of urgency permeates the building, he says, down to the laundry staff. “If the uniform guy donʼt have the uniforms straight and ready to go, somebodyʼs on his ass,” McGinest says.
The same is true on the practice field, where staccato-shouting coaches continually clean up slippage in the technique of the most blooded veterans.
“You go to their practices, theyʼre always setting something straight,” CBS analyst Boomer Esiason says. “Bill will walk over and say, ‘How many times do we got to tell you, stay on the outside, stay on the outside.ʼ ”
When there is a mental mistake, there is no happy talk about it from Belichick says, ‘I donʼt believe in lying to a player.ʼ Itʼs not a franchise for high- priced egos that need flattery.
“If they do, probably the New England Patriots is not the place for them,” Belichick says before pausing. “Look, I think itʼs just about being honest. I donʼt think you tell somebody they did a good job when they didnʼt do a good job. I think if they do a good job, you tell them they did a good job. If they didnʼt do a good job, I think you tell them, ‘Hereʼs what you need to do better.ʼ I donʼt believe in lying to a player.”
By all accounts, the Patriotsʼ ticktock urgency is coupled with an intense physicality in practice few other teams are willing to risk. Simms says of Belichick, “If he could, their ass would be in pads every week.” McGinest recalls that frequently defensive starters would act as the scout team against Bradyʼs offense, mimicking the opponent “because we wanted them to see what it was really going to look like in a game. We would give them their first look — and we would give them a full-speed look.”
Simms witnessed a practice two years ago, as the Patriots were readying to play the Pittsburgh Steelers in the 2016 AFC championship game. Simms was “shocked at the pace,” given that it was the postseason, and at the fierceness with which they went at each other. On one play, Brady threw a pass out to Edelman, his close friend and favorite target. It was a bad throw that tailed into the dirt. Edelmen dived down to get it, caught his cleats in the grass and face-planted in the turf. He got up with a clod of dirt in his face mask and began cursing Brady for lousy execution.
“What did you say?!” Brady snapped at him, and the two men went helmet
to helmet and began screaming at each other.
“Thatʼs just how they are,” Simms says. “Then I heard Bill ran ʼem a lot after practice.”
They beat the Steelers, 36-17.
Belichick sets the basic template and schedule, but somewhere along the line the Patriots players adopt it as theirs, and pride in execution becomes a partnership that has won at least 10 games every season since 2003.
“Itʼs certainly not the easiest place to play,” special teams captain Matthew Slater says, “but it works for us because of the buy-in. Guys are willing to check their egos at the door and say, ‘Hey, Iʼm in this for the greater good,ʼ and the guys who arenʼt willing to do that usually donʼt last long here. . . . So I think itʼs a perfect match. Bill has the formula, and he gets the right guys to come in and do it the way he wants it done.”
The Patriots long have been accused of practicing dark arts, but there is no swallowable pill or spying or ball deflation ploy that is a shortcut to their substance. Their success is the result of manifold parts: scouting, an economistʼs grasp of salary management, the discipline not to be seduced by talent and to bring in only the most intelligent players preloaded with work ethic, Belichickʼs deep strategic background, and a quarterback for the ages who has played into his 40s. These are all crucial. But theyʼre ultimately just piecemeal factors that lead up to the collective on-field performance by players who take an incalculable pride in craft and learn to enjoy winning more than any leisure.
“When I go and spend time with them at practice, I always walk away going, ‘Well, I know why they win,ʼ ” Simms says. “When I go to another team, I go, ‘Uh, thatʼs why they are where they are, looking for another coach every third year and never winning a lot of games.ʼ ”
“Thatʼs just how they are,” Simms says. “Then I heard Bill ran ʼem a lot after practice.”
They beat the Steelers, 36-17.
Belichick sets the basic template and schedule, but somewhere along the line the Patriots players adopt it as theirs, and pride in execution becomes a partnership that has won at least 10 games every season since 2003.
“Itʼs certainly not the easiest place to play,” special teams captain Matthew Slater says, “but it works for us because of the buy-in. Guys are willing to check their egos at the door and say, ‘Hey, Iʼm in this for the greater good,ʼ and the guys who arenʼt willing to do that usually donʼt last long here. . . . So I think itʼs a perfect match. Bill has the formula, and he gets the right guys to come in and do it the way he wants it done.”
The Patriots long have been accused of practicing dark arts, but there is no swallowable pill or spying or ball deflation ploy that is a shortcut to their substance. Their success is the result of manifold parts: scouting, an economistʼs grasp of salary management, the discipline not to be seduced by talent and to bring in only the most intelligent players preloaded with work ethic, Belichickʼs deep strategic background, and a quarterback for the ages who has played into his 40s. These are all crucial. But theyʼre ultimately just piecemeal factors that lead up to the collective on-field performance by players who take an incalculable pride in craft and learn to enjoy winning more than any leisure.
“When I go and spend time with them at practice, I always walk away going, ‘Well, I know why they win,ʼ ” Simms says. “When I go to another team, I go, ‘Uh, thatʼs why they are where they are, looking for another coach every third year and never winning a lot of games.ʼ ”
Today's Feel Good Story from the Washington Post
After a woman gave birth at home, firefighters shoveled her driveway to get the ambulance through
By Lindsey Bever, January 29
There was no time to make it back to the hospital. Cassy Abram, who was 37 weeks pregnant, and her husband, Scotty, had spent the night in a hospital in Iowa, but by Monday morning, the physicians had concluded it was simply not time for her to deliver the baby, she said.
The couple, from Cedar Rapids, fought freezing temperatures and snow-covered roads to get back home. Minutes later, the baby was on the way.
Cassy Abram told her husband to call for an ambulance, but before he could make the call, she had delivered their son on the living room floor. “It was crazy,” Cassy Abram, 28, told The Washington Post. “I don’t know how else to explain it.”
It had been a joyous — albeit stressful — morning, but the Abrams said that when Cedar Rapids firefighters arrived, they made it even more special. While several of them tended to the mother and baby inside, two others responded to the scene in their personal vehicles and shoveled snow from the couple’s driveway so Cassy Abram and her baby could be taken to the hospital.
Cassy Abram’s aunt, Larissa Ruffin, was on the phone for the birth. It was about 6:30 a.m. when Cassy Abram started to deliver and told her husband to get help. He called Ruffin.
“He said, ‘Help me!’ ” Ruffin recalled, saying that she could hear Cassy Abram screaming and crying in the background. “I told him, ‘Call 911!’ ”
Suddenly, Ruffin said, she heard him say, “Welcome to the world, baby boy,” and she heard the newborn cry. “I was so confused,” she said.
Just like that, Ruffin said, Scotty Abram Jr. had been born. Ruffin said her niece cleaned out the baby’s nose and mouth, and Scotty Abram called 911. When first responders got there, Scotty Abram cut the umbilical cord, and the firefighters evaluated the mother and child.
Cedar Rapids public safety spokesman Greg Buelow said that upon arrival, firefighters put out a call for another crew to clear snow for the ambulance, and two other firefighters showed up in their own cars. Buelow said the firefighters, Bryan Johnson and Jason Aarhus, shoveled the entire driveway.
Buelow said the “heartfelt” gesture was “an example of the dedication and compassion of the firefighters we have working for the city of Cedar Rapids. They truly care about the community."Ruffin said the mother and her newborn were taken to the hospital by ambulance and are doing well. The Abrams are planning to bring Scotty Jr. home on Wednesday, Ruffin said.
By Lindsey Bever, January 29
 |
| Scotty and Cassy Abram with their newborn son, Scotty Jr. (Larissa Ruffin) |
There was no time to make it back to the hospital. Cassy Abram, who was 37 weeks pregnant, and her husband, Scotty, had spent the night in a hospital in Iowa, but by Monday morning, the physicians had concluded it was simply not time for her to deliver the baby, she said.
The couple, from Cedar Rapids, fought freezing temperatures and snow-covered roads to get back home. Minutes later, the baby was on the way.
Cassy Abram told her husband to call for an ambulance, but before he could make the call, she had delivered their son on the living room floor. “It was crazy,” Cassy Abram, 28, told The Washington Post. “I don’t know how else to explain it.”
It had been a joyous — albeit stressful — morning, but the Abrams said that when Cedar Rapids firefighters arrived, they made it even more special. While several of them tended to the mother and baby inside, two others responded to the scene in their personal vehicles and shoveled snow from the couple’s driveway so Cassy Abram and her baby could be taken to the hospital.
Cassy Abram’s aunt, Larissa Ruffin, was on the phone for the birth. It was about 6:30 a.m. when Cassy Abram started to deliver and told her husband to get help. He called Ruffin.
“He said, ‘Help me!’ ” Ruffin recalled, saying that she could hear Cassy Abram screaming and crying in the background. “I told him, ‘Call 911!’ ”
Suddenly, Ruffin said, she heard him say, “Welcome to the world, baby boy,” and she heard the newborn cry. “I was so confused,” she said.
Just like that, Ruffin said, Scotty Abram Jr. had been born. Ruffin said her niece cleaned out the baby’s nose and mouth, and Scotty Abram called 911. When first responders got there, Scotty Abram cut the umbilical cord, and the firefighters evaluated the mother and child.
Cedar Rapids public safety spokesman Greg Buelow said that upon arrival, firefighters put out a call for another crew to clear snow for the ambulance, and two other firefighters showed up in their own cars. Buelow said the firefighters, Bryan Johnson and Jason Aarhus, shoveled the entire driveway.
Buelow said the “heartfelt” gesture was “an example of the dedication and compassion of the firefighters we have working for the city of Cedar Rapids. They truly care about the community."Ruffin said the mother and her newborn were taken to the hospital by ambulance and are doing well. The Abrams are planning to bring Scotty Jr. home on Wednesday, Ruffin said.
Friday, February 1, 2019
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