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I remembered everything I learned from the young man in the wheel chair on the Right Choice Island. He had set up my website. I was getting accustomed to the trials and tribulations of mining the web for customers. It started to pay off. Suddenly the ghosts of years gone by started to appear on my computer screen. My initial E-mail, directing people to my website, started to bring results. Several old running mates ordered my Fire Horses book. One of them had a website that was number one on Google. That site is www.detroitfirefighters.com . He added me as a link. Another site is www.detroitfiremensfund.com and they too added a link. I reciprocated with a link. Like a giant spider web my cyber world expanded. The orders for Fire Horses started rolling in. It had been quite a journey so far but I still had a lot to learn. I opened a new door.Packing, shipping, and posting was the next bog I had to wade through. I found it took cash to master this part of the trip. The post office alligator was the one who could gobble up money almost as fast as the sharks and agents who swam in the Promotion Ocean. I took my time. I soon found the right path.

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The first guy I talked to, at my book signing, engaged me in conversation for a half an hour. It was interesting because he asked me every imaginable question you could think of abaout the Fire Department. When he left I was reeducated about what it took to be a Firefighter. Several other people came by and in two hours I sold six books. Not a lot but enough to get the word out that Fire Horses was for sale at the book store. All in all my first book signing experience was a good one. The book store took fifteen books to stock their inventory. I learned that people are naturally curious. Not all are interested in the action/adventure genre. Many have an interest in the Fire Service and I was humbled by how many thanked me for my service. The day I spent, at the book store, signing my book, added to my knowledge bank. I was getting smarter and smarter as I traveled through Literature Land. My next move was to improve my website. I realized the computer would be my most effective tool in selling my book. Advertising in a small town newspaper brought small town results. Advertising to the world on the web broadened the chances for success. I was again going to sail the Promotion Ocean but this time I was Captain of my own ship.

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What a day me and Cummings had. It was fun drinking beer with the Firefighters but I was sick as a puppy the next morning. It was time to get back to my travels in Literature Land. I contacted a book store in Cheboygan Michigan. The owner agreed to allow me to have a book signing in his store. I bought some advertising in the Cheboygan Tribune announcing the event. The cost was $160 for two weeks of daily ads. It was expensive for the return I got. You must remember I am a wanderer in this new area of book promotion. I had visions of throngs of people pushing and shoving to be the first one into the Log Mark Bookstore. When I arrived I found an old hound dog sleeping by the front door. He opened one eye  and gave me a greeting by thumping his tail twice on the sidewalk. I was sure he would have been more enthusiastic if the book was called Fire Dogs instead of Fire Horses. Inside the manager had set up a table close to the checkout counter. I took a seat behind posters heralding the qualities of my novel. On the wall, behind my chair, were enough pictures of fires to make the devil himself smile. I was ready. The door opened and my first customer approached the table.

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Going into that old neighborhood was like sneaking into a war zone. Holy Cross Church was still there. Everything around it was shabby and sad looking. There were the burned out hulks of once happy homes. We pulled up in front of Solosy’s Funeral Home. There was a ten foot fence with razor wire at the top surrounding the place like a fort. The structure was still in good shape. There were two stories. The bright red bricks stood out like rubies compared to the dilapitated dwellings in the neighborhood. Where the sign once said Solosy’s Funeral Home now appeared a logo proclaiming this as the site of the Axemen’s Motorcycle Club. The door was made of diamond plate steel with a fire axe welded to it for a door knob. We pounded on the door. A tough looking young Firefighter with a Maltese Cross tatooed on his neck came to let us in. He was proud of the construction they had completed so far. In the viewing room was an area for a coffin. The Firefighters had converted this spot to a stage for a band. Near by was a brass fire pole in case any of the lady visitors decided to pole dance. The bar was at the rear of the dance floor. It had an emblem depicting the Axemen’s coat of arms. I heard a pop top open and was handed a cold beer. We sat and talked for hours. Cummings got his instructions for the art work he was to do and we left to visit the last bar standing in Delray. It was quite a night for the Firewriter. It was full of memories and I slipped back into that special camaraderie Firefighters have for each other. I was home again. It was a short reprieve from my travels in Literature Land.

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We polished off a few beers. Cummings said he had to go to a meeting with the Axemen. They had called him to come from out of state to do some art work on their club house. It seems they were in the process of re-doing an old funeral home in a seedy part of Detroit called Delray. My God, Delray was where I grew up. It was in the heart of the Seventh Battalion. It was where I had been a working Firefighter for thirty years. The club house was the long abandoned Solosy Funeral Home. It was across the street from Holy Cross Church where I married my lovely wife Jo. My children attended parochail school there. “Come with me,” Cummings offered. He didn’t have to ask twice. It was going to be fun. We were quite a pair. I was the former Seventh Battalion Union Director. Cummings was once on the department Clown Team. He dressed as a dalmation dog when he did his clown gig. I tossed a big tip to our sweetie bar maid and we were out the door of Casey’s Bar and on our way to adventure down in the Seventh Batttalion.

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When I walked into Casey’s Bar I stepped into the past. The place was full of old memories. It was 16 years since I mingled with the Firefighters who frequented this place. The echos of long ago meetings filled my head. Many of my running mates, who I shared a beer with at this bar, were long gone. Most were in heaven. A few were probably at the great fifth alarm the Devil runs for those who who go astray. I didn’t recognize any of the young Firefighters who were talking and laughing at the bar. The bar maids were new and good looking as usual. I ordered a beer and looked at the end of the bar. Was that Jerry Cummings? Yes it was. He looked up and started to smile. He was just in from out of town to help the Axeman motorcycle club work on their new club house. We grabbed each other and hugged and laughed. It was good to see a brother Firefighter to share the past with.

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When I got to Detroit I went to the Firemen’s Fund Office. I hadn’t been there in 16 years. The place was full of old friends and Debbie was there at the front desk to greet me. I got a big hug and enough hand shaking to loosen up my arthritic right shoulder. Time evaporated like the fog on a windshield when you turn on the defroster. I was back with my beloved Firefighters. We talked about old times and the many people who passed away in the years since I left the department. We started to talk about my book Fire Horses. I explained how I wanted to get my memories down on paper. A fictionalized novel was rthe best way. I asked the Fund if they would give me a link on their website. No problem. The www.rjhaig.com site would be hooked up with a class outfit like the Detroit Firemen’s Fund. I was pleased. I was once again traveling in familiar waters with my old Firefighter buddies. I thanked them. As I left and got another warm hug from Debbie. I was headed for Casey’s Saloon the bar I mentioned in my book Fire Horses.

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Once my web site was done I got to stand up and admire my work. It was beautiful. I jumped around with my hands over my head in the traditional we scored a touchdown signal. Then it crashed. It was gone. My screen gave me instructions on what happened. It was all bull crap. It was one of those evil gremlins who used to work on our war planes in world war two. This was the new battle ground for the gremlins. they had attacked my web site with a vengence. It took two days for my young mentor to get things straightened out. When it came back on line I was careful not to jostle my computer. I admired the site in quiet reverence. I was ready to cross the Promotion Ocean once more. I was headed for Detroit to talk to people to promote my book Fire Horses.

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It was fun setting up my web site. I was now traveling with a pack of nerds. Click here, set up a new thread, use this tab, upload and download, were some of the concepts I absorbed. The hyrogliphics of the computer territories was complex but I slowly started to go with the flow. Soon my web site started to come alive. I felt like Dr. Frankenstein. All I needed was a final jolt of energy to bring my masterpiece to life. My home page jumped out at readers with a blast of fire yellow color. My name, R J Haig was emblazoned across the top with roaring flames as a background. The navigation tabs were bright red fire alarm boxes. My book, Fire Horses, filled the right side of the screen. I decided to give my readers a Engine House recipe once a month. The first entry was my Fire House Chili formula. This concoction will allow you to pass gas guaranteed to keep flies and mesquitos from coming near you. My site www.rjhaig.com was ready to go.