Just like the phone call a fire chief never wants to make, I was on the receiving end of that call I’ve dreaded my entire life in May. I was in my dorm at the National Fire Academy for Fallen Firefighters Memorial Weekend when I woke up at about 1:30 a.m. to a group of missed calls from my brother, and I already knew what it was before I called him back. We had lost the “first chief” I ever had to answer to, my mother, Carol Matthews.
I always have given my father 100 percent of the credit for my love of the fire service, but while I was traveling home from Emmitsburg, I recalled so many times how my mother stepped up to help me—getting me to Fire Explorers meetings or my internship, taking me to cover fires of all sorts and plane and automobile crashes before I had obtained my license so that I could cover the incidents for the local media.
She was always my rock, but I didn’t realize our friendship until the past few years. Although I always knew that she was my cheerleader with some sage advice, I didn’t realize she also served as a counselor, which could include a slap across the face when I needed it.
Much like the best moments in the firehouse, many of my mother’s and my greatest moments were spent talking at the kitchen table early in the morning or when I got to their house after landing at 10 p.m. Just she and I, trying to figure it out.
I’d like to share some of the words of wisdom and life lessons that I learned from her over 48 years.
Life isn’t fair and not all things are equal. Even when it is, you still have to work hard to earn whatever it is that you want. And, if it isn’t going the way you want, persevere, work harder and don’t give up.
Being stern isn’t about being in control; it’s a thoughtful and caring investment in your life or others’ lives at that moment. More importantly—and often only realized much later—she took that tone with me with the long-term outcome(s) in mind. I learned from her that toughness and kindness can coexist, and they often are the best combination.
For years, she barked, “Don’t talk back at me.” Nonetheless, I would, and about 15 years ago, we had an hourslong chat about “talking back.” It wasn’t so much the fact that I would snidely respond to her, she explained, but that I wasn’t spending the time listening to what she had to say. At the same time, think before you speak: It can save you some trouble, and once words are spoken, they can’t be unheard.
Until I graduated high school, I hated the 6 a.m. wakeups. That takes me back to her morning message, “Even if you don’t feel like it, do it anyway.”
The other mindset that she instilled in me, without saying it directly, was the value of time and that we shouldn’t waste it. This seems simple, but in the chaos of life, it’s easy to lose track of time until it’s too late.
When I was younger, she took a liberty with one of John F. Kennedy’s most famous quotes: “Ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country.” Her version was: “Ask not what your mother can do for you, but what you can do for your mother.” When my siblings and I were giving her a hard time, she was stern in asking what we did for her.
The next time that you’re at your station, ask your brothers and sisters what you can do for them. My first chief lived by that motto, and it would carry on her legacy if you did the same.
