Way too often Ive heard people say everyone knows everyone in Wallowa County. Ive often taken the tack such thinking is wrong. Instead, maybe everyone thinks they know everyone in Wallowa County.

Yet, pondering today, Im comfortable taking a middle ground. Somewhere between knowing and thinking we know lies truth. And, when it comes to the absolute truth about any human being, no one on earth today is privy to such information.

For example, take Rayford. He passed away the other day and Id guess everyone who knew him and attended his funeral or knew him and didnt attend his funeral thought they knew who he was.

I knew him to a point, but not well.

He headed a 25-man USFS firefighting team I was part of two summers. He wielded a mean shotgun; had a dynamite no-nonsense wife; and fathered children with myriad all positive personalities.

And he saved my life.

In fact Rayford saved 25 lives that day, mine being merely one. But he doesnt get all the credit, because his decision made in concert with the head of another 25-man USFS firefighting team saved a total of 50 lives.

How it happened will shock some in Wallowa County, but in all honesty decision-makers for the USFS are human, thus not infallible. And on this day they made mistakes on a fire in southern Oregon that could have been disastrous.

We loaded up at daylight in a 25-man crummy (at least thats what we called the vehicle), but didnt unload until four hours later. Evidently the smoke was so thick the fire bosses couldnt decide where to put us.

We unloaded on a steep, no-turn-around road with a second 25-man crummy unloading in front of us. Temperatures already were hot, not the best time to build fire line in steep terrain.

With spot fire after spot fire flaring uphill behind us, our efforts were futile, and Rayford ordered us back to the crummy.

Enter USFS mistake No. 2.

No one had turned our vehicles around, instead leaving them pointed downhill. This was a Basic 101 mistake, like an eye doctor losing a contact lens down the sink.

At this point in time, we had no choice but to trust Rayford to save our lives. Looking through the many windows of the crummy, we could see crowning fire in treetops fast approaching and Rayford and the other crew boss in deep discussion about 50 yards away downhill.

Maybe we were too well trained to panic. Maybe we had no options. Either way, tension was peaking when Jimmy, possibly the funniest person Ive ever known, stood up in the crummy and yelled, Were all gonna die, were all gonna die! and the tension was broken with laughter.

And yet, the hot fire continued to come closer and Rayford and the other dude continued to talk.

Maybe eight to 10 minutes in total while the forest fire continued its uphill march.

Jimmy yelled again. Were not gonna die, were not gonna die! That helped, but what authority did he have to speak such words?

Rayford and the other man next returned to respective crummies and marched all 50 of us single-file back through the fire into a meadow theyd seen below.

The next day Jimmy and a friend returned to our crummy and took photographs. My biggest memory of those shots was a metal door handle torched to molten lead.

No, none of us knows the truth of others we meet. Maybe its best to treat them with love and respect and move on.

Jabberwock II columnist Rocky Wilson is a reporter for the Chieftain.