FLY CREEK — To help ease the trauma of childhood emergencies, Margaret Wolff chose an age-old symbol of warmth and safety-quilts.

Wolff, the owner of Heartworks in Fly Creek, hosted a party last Friday evening to give five small, colorful quilts to members of the Cooperstown Emergency Medical Services squad to be used for children who are treated by the squad. The idea came after Wolff realized how difficult it is for the emergency squad to get new members and how much time the members volunteer.

"They give so much of themselves, and this is one way of showing appreciation. I was thinking about how it must be for children who are involved in emergencies," Wolff said, standing near a rack of colored thread and neatly folded squares of fabric, surrounded by hanging quilts. "Now the emergency squad can wrap them up in a blanket and it will hopefully help them feel a little better."

"It's one of those things," said Joe Monington, who will soon be exiting his post as captain of the EMS squad, "where I'm hoping that we don't have to give them to anybody. But you do beautiful work."

New captain Bob Satriano, a 21-year EMS veteran, trained nurse and one-time emergency services professional in New York City, said that emergencies involving children are far and away the worst of what he sees.

"Somebody once called us a cult," Satriano said. "A good cult, of course, but a cult. We have blue lights on our dashboards, we park nose out so we can leave quick, we carry pagers and radios, scissors, flashlights and gloves in our pockets. We have to keep a pair of pants hung up with our coats so we can get dressed in the middle of the night and get moving. It's just a different way of thinking, being a volunteer."

There are "an awful lot of missed dinners," Satriano said, "and it's important to get support from your family. My wife and son are pretty good about it. And Karen, she's good too."

The Karen to whom he is referring is Fred Lemister's wife. Satriano said that Lemister, who recently went on call number 5,000, is "the father of the EMS." He has been on the squad since 1971, and while Satriano said he makes only ten or twelve of the nearly sixty calls they get each summer month, Lemister is there for at least half.

You don't get to 5000 by sitting it out, that's for sure.

"He wants the recognition," Satriano said, "we all do, that's just the way it is. But shake his hand once, not twice. We wanted to get him a huge plaque, he's the first person ever in this department to make 5,000 calls, but that's not how he wanted it. So we got a small one."

The men and women in the community who volunteer their time to aid in the alleviation of crises have a way of watching out for one another, Satriano said. There's a county wide stress de-briefing team and the volunteers talk to one another about unforgettable moments during their work, memories that linger longer than the smell of smoke on their clothes or the jarring feeling of being awakened in the middle of the night in response to the alarm.

"We watch out for our own," Satriano said. "We help each other through it. Sometimes hours after a call we get in touch with each other to talk about it. We watch for mannerisms that tell us somebody's having a tough time after the fact. I watch out for them, and they're watching out for me."

The fire house is so quiet in the middle of the day that it's difficult to imagine the adrenaline of a catastrophe bringing the place to life. There are two ambulances, two pumpers, a rescue truck filled with tools, airpacks, lights and a generator, a rescue boat that will soon be in the water, Satriano said, and an antique truck that can still be used in a pinch to fight fires.

"We use it for funerals," Satriano said of the truck, "and for parades and parties. Once a year we take it out and have a party for kids. They climb on it and we take then for a ride and they get to squirt water. It's a good thing because maybe later they'll want to fight fires."

Fortunately, the shrill call of danger didn't interrupt the festivities at Heartworks last Friday night.

"This is really something else," Monington said, standing in the kitchen of the classroom where women get together to sew. Stacked teacups painted with gold sat on the windowsill and plates of potatoes and chicken and desserts steamed on the counter. "I expected finger food," he said. "This is great."

The place was designed by Wolff with camaraderie in mind. As volunteers work on the quilts they talk about their lives and about their sewing skills. Panels of quilted flowers line the walls. It is a place of comfort and productivity.

"Anyone can come and volunteer to sew," Wolff said. Already, nineteen quilts have been completed, five have been presented the to EMS, and the tops for another twelve were recently stitched by ten volunteers. Wolff publicizes sewing days in her newsletter and mentions them to customers, and she can be contacted at 547-2501 for more information.

"I donate the supplies and materials," Wolff said, "and the quilters kindly donate their time."