Bill Hobaugh can't begin to count the ball games and tennis matches he's missed.
Shaun Teacher isn't sure when he'll get to finish a meal with his fiancee, Melissa Dicrisso, again.
Teacher, 22, of Southwest Greensburg and Hobaugh, 41, of Harrison City are members of Westmoreland County's all-volunteer hazardous materials team.
For now, their lives are on hold.
Hobaugh, a member of the team for 13 years, said the group usually answers 20 to 30 calls a year.
That was before Sept. 11. That was before most Americans ever heard of anthrax, let alone worried about white powder.
In the new America, where many believe anything could happen, calls for hazmat assistance are coming in left and right. In the last two weeks alone, the team has answered more than 60 calls.
Team captain Bill Wright said 39 of the team's 56 members have answered one or more of those calls.
Hobaugh, who operates a laminator machine at Omnova Solutions in Jeannette, has answered 30 calls. Teacher, an electrical contractor and assistant manager at Lowe's Home Improvement Warehouse of Greensburg, has been out on 56.
"This isn't like New York or Pittsburgh where (hazmat teams) get paid. These guys are all volunteers. And they're running their butts off," said Dan Stevens, press spokesman for the Westmoreland County Department of Public Safety.
Both Hobaugh and Teacher volunteered at the cleanup of the site where United Flight 93 crashed in Somerset County. Teacher also volunteered at "ground zero" in Manhattan before the anthrax scare hit home here.
Teacher, who is poised to become the mayor of Southwest Greensburg next year, lives with his grandparents, Helen and Chuck Teacher. They worry about his long hours.
"Every time I walk in the house, it's 'Did you eat⢠How about a bowl of cereal or some spaghetti?'" Teacher said, rattling off his grandmother's favorite questions.
It's not as though her concerns are misplaced.
The last time Teacher went out to dinner with his fiancee they were halfway through a meal at the Ground Round when his pager went off and he had to run.
Hobaugh's wife, Kathy, learned long ago that the calls come with the territory when your husband is a volunteer firefighter and hazmat team member.
But even Hobaugh conceded that this fall has been far worse than usual. His son David, 11, and daughter Heather, 15, have been supportive, even though their father has missed more ball games and tennis matches than he cares to think about.
"Thank God my wife is as understanding as she is. She works, has her own business. It's tough. She's been great through the whole thing," he said.
They communicate through notes and cell phones, he explained.
But everything since Sept. 11 is blurry. Hobaugh can't even remember just where he was on his 17th wedding anniversary, Sept. 15.
"A lot of times you're home. You plan out your schedule. But very seldom do we get to do what we've planned," he said.
To make up for it, he's planning a weekend getaway.
"We're going away and the pagers and phone aren't going with us. For sure."
Sacrifices don't end with family.
There's no way the team could begin to function without employers who understand the importance of what their workers do for the community.
Hobaugh said Omnova officials let him go on hazmat calls whenever possible. Wright said employers like that have been a lifeline for the unit in the hectic days since Sept. 11.
"A lot of our guys work shifts, so that helps out a lot, but sometimes it seems like everyone who rotates is working daylight at the same time.
"When that happens, there are a handful of guys who are allowed to leave frequently that we rely upon. I can't say how much it means to us that they're available," Wright said.
Dave Maynard, plant manager at Omnova, said the company and its employees understand the importance of Hobaugh's work on the hazmat team.
"We've got a lot of great employees who pitch in whenever he gets called. Whatever we can do to give back to the community is important," he said. "It's people like Bill who make this a good community."
Burl Fox, manager of the Lowe's store where Teacher is an assistant manager, said Teacher is one of several emergency services volunteers who works there.
"Pretty much every time they have something they have to go on, whether it's accident or fire, I try to cut them free to go out on the call. ... Lowe's gives them the opportunity to be part of a volunteer organization," Fox said.
Teacher also has a fledging electrical contracting business. That, he said, has ground to a standstill.
"I've had to postpone jobs. But people understood when I told them what was going on," he said.
The hazmat calls can be exhausting. The simplest ones usually take an hour to 90 minutes to complete. The more complex ones take three or four hours. And someone always suits up in encapsulated biohazard gear to do the actual work of gathering samples and cleaning up.
Teacher said some days it feels as though he lives at the hazmat station on Vaneer Avenue.
"We even moved some tables and chairs around so it would be a little more comfortable there," he said.
But there may be a silver lining. Until Sept. 11, most of the team's work involved chemical spills, tanker wrecks and fires.
"Everyone on the team is getting a lot of experience in (hazmat) suits these days," Teacher said. "If we'd ever get anything serious, we'd all be ready."
