April 17, 1997

Many of you know that my husband (insert newlywed giggle here) is a retired Lieutenant from the Fire Department. He is a hero. He has stared death in the eye. Saved people. No, RESCUED people. He's delivered babies and held people as they took their last breath.

When I take the time to really think about his past career, I freak out a little. I don't know how I would feel if he had that same job today. I am, however, proud of him in ways that I am not able to fully articulate. He is brave and calm under pressure. He knows that there are some rules that aren't to be broken (of course none of them have anything to do with me, ha ha). He is a forward-thinking man. I love him in ways that I didn't think was possible.

In 1997, his crew responded to a house fire in Prince George's County, MD (outside of Washington, D.C., near Andrews Air Force Base and the University of Maryland.) He called me at work to tell me that he had been burned in a fire. "OK," I said. He told me that he was on the way home from the burn unit, and that he was alright. He asked me to meet him there. "Sure," I said. I walked over to my boss and started to tell her, "Um, Denise? Chip was in a fire and I have to go." Somewhere between the words "Chip" and "fire" I realized what was happening and I was scared.

The home that caught fire was condemned, if I remember correctly. There was a family living there. Mom, Dad that was working across the street, and little Jamie Lynn. They were using propane, funnelled through a garden hose, to cook with - or something equally as horrifying.

This is the house, and the man hanging upside down is my husband.

Time healed his 2nd & 3rd degree burns but I don't think that he'll ever forget how that day changed his life. Everyone called him a hero for staying on the 2nd floor for so long, feeling with his hands, around the walls and floors, inside and outside of countless rooms, hoping to find her.

The floor, from the damage of the fire and the water, began to give way and he had to jump out of the window, head first, without her. Jamie was so small and I know that he thinks of her every day. He received the Gold Medal of Valor, the highest honor, and only felt sorrow, failure, and disappointment.

As I sit here, listening to Chip shout out Jeopardy responses, I wanted to take a moment to tell you that I have a winner. He knows (most of) the answers and is a good man.


How lucky I am.