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Saturday, August 27, 2011


It was there when I was a boy during WWII. The scary Colonial siren went off every time there was a fire in our neighborhood, and during those frightening "blackouts" that were part of the scene during the early years of the war when there was thought to be the possibility of an enemy air attack. It was there when I was a teenager and my dear friend Jesse Anderson joined as a volunteer at the tender age of 17. I can still see that blue light and "COLONIAL VFD" emblem on the front of his 1940 Pontiac sedan. Memories of Chief John Lenhardt with the stump of a lit cigarette burning every closer to his lips. "Big John," who was the consummate Fire Chief; always ready, any hour, day or night. It was the boys in his family, all of whom I seem to recall becoming dedicated fire fighters. It was young John, moving to the Mercerville area and becoming Chief of that fire company after serving at Colonial. The memories just keep on coming.

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