Illustration by Radiocaptain, and six weeks later I had passed
the initial training and found myself
dressed in bright yellow protective gear,
a helmet, mask and goggles, working on
my fi rst fi re. Almost anyone with average
fi tness and some mechanical aptitude
would have qualifi ed. Four years later, I
had more experience and training and
was able to work on the big fi res during
the antipodean summer of 2019-20.
Bush fi refi ghting is not complicated.
In general, a fi re starts at a single point.
Many of the fi res that summer were
started by lightning strikes, but the
spark can just as well be faulty electrical
equipment, a cigarette or a kid playing
with a lighter and an aerosol can. The
fi re spreads from its point of ignition
outward, irregularly, subject to the wind
and the contours of the land. A fi re that
starts in a remote area can get very large,
very fast. Our job as bush fi refi ghters is
to get in front of it and stop its spread. A
lot of the time, fi refi ghting involves fi ve
or six people in a truck rolling up to a
threatened area, dragging canvas hoses
through sclerophyll forest and hosing
down an advancing edge.
Firefi ghting turned out to be part of
what I needed to help process my grief
and trauma. Look at this, I thought. Th i s
is what it’s like in my brain. The entire
world, as far as I can see, is literally on
fi re. Giant trees have become fi reballs,
and there’s a fi refront that sounds like
a train as it moves through the canopy.
Snakes and scorpions, fl eeing the fi re,
traverse my boots. It’s loud; the air is
hot; everyone is tired and hungry. A rag-
ing bushfi re is the best metaphor I’ve
yet found for something I have not been
able to express.
Time on the fi reline is time not spent
contemplating misfortune. My grief is
ever-present, but the sense of loss is less
acute. I think there is comfort in embrac-
ing external chaos, taking it on and taming
it. I cannot bring Floriane back, but I can
protect a house, a barn or a fl ock of sheep.
And it’s not some obscure hobby,
something only reserved for the few:
Volunteers make up about 70 percent
of the personnel of fi re departments in
the United States and approximately 54
percent of its active fi refi ghters. They’re
also not a rural phenomenon: Nine
volunteer companies respond to calls
within the fi ve boroughs of New York
City. There’s often a unit within a short
distance of almost everywhere. Most
units require an interview, followed by
some initial training that covers safety
and basic procedures, after which a new
fi refi ghter can work under supervision.
From there, the amount of additional
training is usually proportional to the
volunteer’s commitment — people who
show up often tend to get more training.
Living as we do on a warming, drying
planet with increasingly extreme weath-
er, volunteering off ers a way of being
tangibly useful, of doing something
besides feeling utterly powerless. The
parties tend to be pretty good, too.
Bereavement is a state of being, like
having a chronic illness or a haunting past
that can’t be overcome. It becomes part ofyou and must be dealt with. I’ve learned
that the process is diff erent for everyone
and there’s no magic formula for learn-
ing to get on with life — even Floriane
would say I have other things to get on
with, including the raising of her brother.
Firefi ghting is not unlike being a parent in
some ways. People call us with problems
they can’t solve, which is to say there’s
a wall of fl ame coming toward their
house or a giant tree has come down on
their roof in a storm. The problems then
become ours, and we do our best to take
care of them. Sometimes we try and fail.
But what I’ve come to learn is that it is
better to have stood up for a community,
for a child, than to have stood by and done
nothing at all.‘‘It’s not like you’re rolling fi lm — when
you’re recording voice, you can fail all
you want,’’ says Eugene Mirman, a come-
dian and voice actor who plays Gene
Belcher, the 11-year-old middle child on
the animated television series ‘‘Bob’s
Burgers,’’ which debuted in 2011. ‘‘That
allows for more risk and taking chances
and trying diff erent jokes.’’ Be prepared
to say a line dozens of times in a dozen
diff erent ways. ‘‘You could say lines in
an angry, happy, questioning or fun
way,’’ Mirman says. While voicing the
character of Gene, Mirman emphasizes
a youthful exuberance and optimism and
cadence that’s slightly more upbeat than
his everyday adult voice.Tip By Jaime LoweHow to Do a
Voice-OverTo prepare, try yawning, relaxing your
jaw, raising your arms, hitting yourself in
the chest, smiling while saying a happy
line. Keep a glass of water or tea nearby.
Mirman records on his feet; a music stand
holds his script. ‘‘I stand so I can do the
physical actions described,’’ says Mirman,
who works out of a soundproof booth in
his home. ‘‘If you have to make running
noises, you probably wiggle your body in a
slight running way mimicking the actions.’’
Develop relationships with your fel-
low performers. When you get together,
whether in person or online, it helps to
chitchat and catch up with one another.
Mirman has known his castmates for
years (they were hired partly, he says,
‘‘because we already knew each other’’),
and that has fostered the ‘‘familial’’ com-
fort level needed to go off on ad-libbing
tangents. Comedy productions in partic-
ular require improvisational freedom. ‘‘In
the second episode of ‘Bob’s,’ there’s a
whole part where Bob is trapped in the
wall of their home,’’ Mirman says. ‘‘And
Gene starts talking to him about ‘The
Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe’ and
how he’s sure Salman Rushdie wrote it. It
was just this random thing we improvised,
and it actually got used.’’
Even when following the script or the
director’s guidance — whether record-
ing solo or with the cast — try not to
just say one line at a time. Make it feel
as if you’re responding inside the scene.
‘‘You want it to sound like you’re discov-
ering it as you’re saying that thought,’’
Mirman says.Firefi ghting
turned out to be
part of what
I needed to help
process my
grief and trauma.David Wall
lives in Sydney,
Australia, with
his family.18 11.14.