Happy Father’s Day!

My dad and I, summer of 2010

On February 18^th, 1985, I was 6 years old.  It was Washington’s Birthday, and I was off from school so my dad took me out to go bowling for the afternoon.  It wasn’t something that we did very often, so it was nice for a change.

Back in the early to mid-1970s, my dad was an active member on the Island Heights First Aid Squad.  When I came along in 1978, family became the priority.  He took a break from the “EMS thing” for a while, but always kept a blue metal first aid kit in his trunk, just in case he ever needed it for our family or someone else in need.

As we drove home on Route 37 in Toms River that evening, an intoxicated elderly woman left a bar somewhere along the route.  Route 37 is a six lane road in most parts, with an often ignored speed limit of 50 MPH, and a large median separating the east and west travel lanes.  She got on the wrong side, and started traveling east bound in the west bound lane.  Our local fire chief from Island Heights saw this happening, and despite his frantic calls over the radio, there was nothing anyone could do.  She slammed head on into an oncoming car ejecting the driver, a younger woman, who was obviously unbelted.

As we came up to the scene on our way home, my dad felt compelled to stop and help.  I sat impatiently in the car, just wanting to go home at this point, a six year old not really understanding or comprehending exactly what happened.  Eventually, after the ambulance and paramedics had gotten there and taken her away, my dad cleaned himself up along with the other good Samaritans who had stopped, and we took the short trip the rest of the way home.  We still talk about it sometimes, but it’s really just another story in the long list we’ve accumulated over the years.

Twenty seven years later, my dad is now a nineteen year member of the Island Heights First Aid Squad, serving his second tour as the squad’s captain.  A month ago, he was driving his usual route to his job at the golf course he works at when he pulled up on a two car accident with an overturned jeep.  My dad’s first aid kit in his trunk has been greatly upgraded over the years, but it’s still there sitting in his trunk waiting to be used.  Just like he did more than twenty seven years ago, he pulled over to help.

Due to the entrapment in the one vehicle, getting to the driver who was conscious but clearly very injured was difficult, and there wasn’t much that anyone could do for him until the fire department arrived and extricated him.  He was then moved across the street to a waiting helicopter and transported to the regional trauma center where he later died.

For his entire life, whether he was on a squad or not and whether his card was valid at the time or not, my dad was always willing to stop and help out.  I’ve been with him plenty of times when he’s done it as well.  We’ve ridden countless ambulance calls together, and both talked our way through plenty more runs looking for reassurance that we had each done the right thing.

Don’t discount the role of my mother though, she’s been there too keeping us both in line, although many would argue that it’s actually her that needs to be kept in line sometimes!

My dad is truly an inspiration to me.  He’s the one who got my whole family involved in this mess seventeen years ago, and without his devotion to the field as a volunteer for the many years that he has done it, I might not be where I am today

Thanks for everything, Pops.  Happy Father’s Day!