Hello everyone, this message is to introduce myself and my company. My name is Mark Savage; I'm a USMC Veteran, a 25 yr Journeyman Cable Splicer (A legit cable splicer not what most people would consider a splicer) I come from a 55K manhole/network system, and we never looked up. I currently own an underground training and consulting company called DeadBreak. We are mobile and train everything from splicing PILC cable to Underground onboarding safety and compliance stuff (Confined Space, manhole rescue...) I also am in the process of building an Underground training facility on Local 222's property in Moore Haven Fl. If you're a JL and need splicer training, a data center that needs splicers, we are the solution. I am passionate about changing this industry for the better. We need to train our workforce to be successful and safe and stop these accidents, catastrophic failures and deaths from occurring. I see a few familiar names here but I'm not familiar with everyone. If you would like to connect on LinkedIn, please look me up. Additionally, if anyone has a question when it comes to the Underground please reach out, if I don't have the answer, I have a huge rolodex that I can reach out to (engineers, trainers, sales, distributors...) Stay safe everyone and I'm glad to be a part of the movement!! my email is: msavage@deadbreak.us

Thanksgiving hits different in this trade. While the rest of the world is carving turkeys, passing plates, and taking family photos in warm kitchens… there are linemen staring down a storm front, pulling on boots in the dark, or dropping their fork because the phone lit up with the name we didn't want to see today and we hear the words: “We need you.” And we go. Not because it’s convenient. Not because it’s easy. But because that’s what it means to wear these hooks, this harness, this identity that’s stitched into our skin deeper than any tattoo. This trade has always demanded a little more of us—more time, more distance, more sacrifice than anybody outside truly understands. Thanksgiving is just one more place where the cost shows up on the table: empty chairs, cold plates, kids who don’t know if Dad or Mom is going to make it home before bedtime, spouses who smile through it but carry the weight alone. But here’s the thing, and it’s the truth only boots understand: We’re grateful for this life, even when it hurts. Grateful for the Brotherhood that stands with us on poles, in buckets, in ditches, on storm-soaked rights-of-way where nobody sees the work but everybody depends on it. Grateful for the ones who’ve kept us alive with a shout, a hand on the belt, a “hey brother, hold up.” Grateful for the mentors who taught us the difference between danger and stupidity, between pride and precision, between noise and real leadership. Grateful for the families who hold the line at home so we can hold the line out there. Grateful for the men and women who built this industry before we ever touched a wrench. Grateful for the ones we’ve lost — whose names we carry into every job briefing, every climb, every storm. So this Thanksgiving, here’s my message to every lineman, apprentice, groundman, operator, safety hand, engineer, and everyone out in the mud making power happen: Thank you. For the sacrifices. For the service. For the unseen hours. For the grit that keeps this country running when the lights go out and the weather turns mean.