12:30 AM, Tuesday, March 2009

As the director of a local chapter for a nonprofit, I was tasked to do a ride along with one of my volunteers. It was a way to learn firsthand what our volunteers did and how they did it.

I have friends and family who are in the emergency services field. I’ve heard them tell stories, share experiences, but never did I truly understand where they were coming from. Never that is, until the night of my ride along with Fred.

Now Fred is an unassuming, elderly gentleman with white hair, a catching smile, and a big belly laugh. He is also one of the most giving and empathetic person I know. I was glad my ride along was going to be with him.

With this organization and the fact our county was very rural, each volunteer was on call for about two weeks. The first week passed without incident and I thought my ride along would not happen while Fred was on call.

Then, on the third day into his second week, Fred called me at about 12:30 AM. I remember it was a Tuesday, towards the end of March. He told me, he’d be to the office in about 15 minutes and I should meet him there dressed warmly.

I work for an organization providing disaster relief To individuals impacted by all sorts of natural and man made dusaster. Home fires remain the highest percentage of disasters responded to. Fred had been a volunteer for over 30 years. I on the other hand had just graduated from college a year prior to taking this job. I had the audacity to think I was prepared. I had read all the books. Watched all the training videos. I would be able to handle this.

We arrived on the scene. It was complete controlled chaos. There was still snow on the ground. Water was everywhere. There were fire hoses everywhere, sirens blaring, lights, people yelling instructions, there was smoke, and a sense of urgency I’ve never experienced in my life. One of the firefighters saw us pull up. Before Fred even had the door open, the fire fighter was waiting for us. He told us to follow him and he would introduce us to the family impacted by the fire.

I followed behind, starting to realize just how unprepared I was. The fire fighter introduced, what I assumed was the mom, to Fred. Before he could get the words out, the woman, who was holding a pillowcase in one hand, flung herself at Fred. Fred wraped the woman in a hug, repeating,”It’s gonna be alright. I am here to help.”

He then started to ask questions in a very unassuming way. Questions like, what’s the first thing you would do if you got up in the morning on a normal day. Immediately, the woman started to fall apart again, realizing she forgot to grab her sons medication.

It was at this point Fred looked at the pillowcase the woman was holding. He inquired about it. All the while telling the woman not to worry about the medication, he would help her get it refilled in the morning. She seemed to have forgotten she was even holding the pillowcase.

She held it up looking at it as if she had no idea how it had gotten there. Then said, “Oh, this is the parakee. I couldn’t carry the whole cage so I grabbed it and shoved it in here.” Then she started to break down again, talking about how her husband didn’t know, how she was such a failure because she didn’t grab the medication, the insurance papers, any money, or even the keys to the car.

Fred stopped her. He looked her straight in the eye, and to this day I will remember forever what he told her. He turned her around and pointed at her three children huddled in the back of an ambulance. He held up the hand holding the pillowcase with the bird in it.

”You did an amazing job! Your first priority was for these children. You did exactly what you needed to do. Everything else can be replaced. I am here to help you.”

I completely shattered inside. I didn’t know what to do Or what to say. For 30 years, this man had risen from a warm bed in the wee hours of the morning, left a family dinner without reservation, or put himself in harms way, to help someone in need. He has held the hands of disaster victims across the country and in our little town. It has been his voice, his sacrifices, that have helped people through some of the darkest times they would face. And all this he did not for praise, money or recognition. He did it because it was right and he could, therefore he did.

It was on that cold, March night, standing in snow up to my ankles, I learned something about altrusitc compassion. The true meaning of selflessness. Thank you Fred.