FirefighterAid

10/10/2026

THINK YOU CAN COMPETE WITH THESE MUSTACHES? 👀

You’ve got less than 2 weeks to grow out your best ‘stache… or find one to affix to your face 🥸 Whether you’ve been growing yours for months or you’re rocking a perfectly fake ‘stache, everyone is welcome to join the fun!

Come party your mustache off on October 22 at Mavericks Beach Club! Get ready for music, drinks, raffles, firefighters, the mustache competition, and plenty of fun, all in support of FirefighterAid’s Cancer Awareness & Prevention Program. ❤️‍🔥

10 years of Mustache Parties down, let’s make the 11th Annual the best one yet! 🥸🔥

🎟️ Link in bio — grab your tickets and get your stache ready!

09/28/2026

PANCAKES AT THE FIREHOUSE! 🚒🥞

Join us for a Community Pancake Breakfast at SDFD Station 31! Come enjoy a delicious breakfast, meet some of your local firefighters, and support FirefighterAid as we continue caring for the firefighters who care for our community. ❤️

📅 Saturday, October 24, 2026
⏰ 8:00 AM–11:00 AM
📍 SDFD Station 31
6002 Camino Rico, San Diego, CA 92120

🥞 Suggested minimum donation: $10 per plate
❤️ 100% of proceeds benefit FirefighterAid, a local 501(c)(3) nonprofit supporting San Diego County firefighters and their families.

Bring the family, come hungry, and meet the firefighters who serve your community! 🚒❤️

09/24/2026

All photos from the 2026 SD911MSC have been posted over on the San Diego 9/11 Memorial Stair Climb page. Head over and check them out!

09/12/2026

09/11/2026

In recognition of the upcoming 25th anniversary of 9/11, we invite you to take a moment with us today to honor this hero who selflessly gave their all and join us in ensuring we never forget.

Dennis Germain, 33, a firefighter with Ladder Company 2, spent his working hours in the canyons of Midtown Manhattan and his free time on the slopes. He was a ski instructor at Sterling Forest, near Tuxedo, N.Y., where he trained high school racing teams. He skied the Rockies on department trips. And he was indispensable at the annual downhill race at Hunter Mountain, which pits firehouses against one another. Teams of five people grab hold of a 50-foot fire hose and spread out across the trail. The goal is to ski together without letting go, falling, or otherwise messing up. No, they are not allowed to use ski poles. Yes, there are other skiers sharing the snow. Depending on the firefighters’ finesse, the spectacle can be either mildly funny or completely hilarious. “The hoses in many cases would cross and guys would go head over heels down the mountain,” Lt. Neil Skow said. But not Firefighter Germain: “Dennis was always one of the better skiers we had.” His other specialty at Ladder 2 was starting enormous debates in the fire house kitchen with politically incorrect statements he was sure would set people off. As the argument heated up, he would slip away. “He loved what he did,” said his brother Brian, a firefighter in Harlem.

09/10/2026

In recognition of the upcoming 25th anniversary of 9/11, we invite you to take a moment with us today to honor this hero who selflessly gave their all and join us in ensuring we never forget.

Anyone could see that it was a strange combination of jobs, fighting fires and interior decorating. But not David T. Wooley. Captain of Ladder Company 4 in Midtown Manhattan, he also put up wallpaper on the side, turning it into a family affair that included his son, brother and cousin. “He did that because my mother was always asking him to decorate around the house,” said his son, David Jr. “He changed the wallpaper so often, and he was so good at it, that he decided to make it his second career. He did it since 1985 or 1986.” Sure, hanging wallpaper did not quite pack the rush of running into a blaze. But in Captain Wooley’s crew was his brother Burt (another firefighter), his cousin Jeff and his son. “It was time we spent together, and it was almost like not working,” David Wooley Jr. said. As they beautified houses, Captain Wooley, 53, would tune in to a politically conservative radio station. Then his son would switch the dial to a liberal station. That was how it went between the two of them — listen to politics, debate about it, laugh over it. Captain Wooley’s son made fun of him when he took a job putting up wallpaper in the Westchester home of Bill and Hillary Clinton. Meeting them did not change the captain’s political leanings. But Captain Wooley was what his son called a “people person,” and he told his son afterward that the Clintons were “nice and personable.”

09/09/2026

In recognition of the upcoming 25th anniversary of 9/11, we invite you to take a moment with us today to honor this hero who selflessly gave their all and join us in ensuring we never forget.

David Martin Weiss, a New York City firefighter, was built like a fireplug. He stood 5-foot-9 and weighed 225 pounds. He was all muscle, with biceps as big as the thigh of a medium-build woman. He was bulldozer strong. He looked as tough as he sounded. His head was shaved and his body was covered in tattoos. He drove Harleys. He was an ironworker before he became a firefighter 13 years ago. He blended both experiences to become a member of the Fire Department’s elite force. He joined Rescue Company 1 in Times Square about six years ago after receiving a medal for a rescue attempt: a man’s car careered off Franklin D. Roosevelt Drive and plunged into the East River. Mr. Weiss, off duty, stopped his car, climbed down the iron trestles of the elevated highway and jumped into the river to rescue the driver, whose heart had given out. “He just jumped, knowing that he was the person’s only hope,” said Thor Johannessen, a firefighter. Mr. Weiss, 41, of Maybrook, N.Y., had a mean sense of humor. “If he saw a thread, he knew how to pull it to unravel the whole shirt,” said Joel Kanasky, another firefighter. “He was the king of that.”

09/08/2026

In recognition of the upcoming 25th anniversary of 9/11, we invite you to take a moment with us today to honor this hero who selflessly gave their all and join us in ensuring we never forget.

He pushed. Whatever you thought you were capable of, he thought higher. David Lemagne loved to help people, and especially to push them to become all that they could. “He pushed people to get the grades, to get moving, to get motivated,” said his sister, Magaly Lemagne Alfano. “He pushed a lot of friends, and they went further in life because of him.” Officer Lemagne, 27, lived in North Bergen, N.J., and was a police officer for the Port Authority, as well as a part-time paramedic in New Jersey. He had begun riding around in ambulances when he was only 11, learning to care for others. He was assigned to PATH in Jersey City, and when the attack occurred he was told to stay put. But he asked to be sent to the trade center, because of his training as a paramedic. Officer Lemagne was a notorious prankster, and loved to kid around. “He would tell my husband, in front of me, ‘If you ever have a problem with her, I’ll help you get rid of her,’ “ Mrs. Alfano said. “He would say, ‘Don’t worry, no one will ever have to know.’ “ For all his paramedic training, he was not always entirely comfortable with blood. When he was young, he and his close friend decided they would become blood brothers. Fine. Officer Lemagne was handed a knife. “I’m not cutting myself,” he exclaimed in horror. They became spit brothers.