MONROE, Mich. (AP) -- When the emergency calls come, they answer no matter if it is the middle of the night or the middle of dinner.
The immediate need for help knows no holiday or evening at the movies. But they understand what needs to be done, so they grin and bear it.
They are the wives of volunteer firefighters.
While the men rush off to save lives or homes, the wives or girlfriends are left behind with shopping carts full of groceries or without a date at events.
``I have been left at restaurants and at weddings, and we had to wait for him at Christmas dinner,'' said Dundee resident Mary Massingill, who has been married for 29 years to Terry, assistant chief of the Dundee Township Volunteer Fire Department. ``It has been a tremendously big part of our lives and a huge time commitment. But it has been really important to him. And the pride I have for him surpasses everything else.''
A volunteer firefighter is on call 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year. In almost all cases, an emergency run takes precedence. In Monroe County, there are between 500 and 600 volunteer firefighters, and most are men.
If they are married, wives must understand the dedication involved, otherwise there will certainly be hardships.
``You kind of learn to say I'll meet you there,''' said Sharon Welton, who's been married to Jerry, chief of the Luna Pier Volunteer Fire Department, for 40 years. ``There's not much you can do. You see how important it is because he's out helping somebody.''
The firefighters are known for their dedication to the community, but their wives share in that commitment. When the calls come in the middle of the night, the wives also are awake. If there's a bad fire that takes up an entire night, wives commonly bring water or coffee and handle radio duties.
But one of their most important jobs is as a sounding board. The death and devastation firefighters encounter can be emotionally difficult. And most times the first person they see when they come home is their wives.
Sometimes she plays the role of counselor, other times she becomes the target of frustration.
Mary Massingill recalled how the 1997 airplane crash that killed 29 affected her husband. Dundee was one of the first fire departments on the scene and so was Terry Massingill. While she had to be a listener, she also had to deal with the frustration that follows.
``You just have to be there for them and try to help as best you can,'' she said. ``You can't take it personally.''
For those outside the world of volunteer firefighting, the commitment is almost impossible to understand. Calls everywhere have increased. At some of the busier departments, firefighters' lives are interrupted, on average, more than once a day.
Monroe Township is such a place. Chief Larry Merkle said this year his department has seen streaks of 25 to 30 runs a week. When he first joined the department in 1971, there were between 60 and 70 calls a year. In recent years, the number of calls has exceeded 1,000.
Merkle said his own dedication to the department is equaled by the dedication of his wife, Marilyn. They've been married almost 29 years. He said wives are the backbones of many firefighters.
``They have to put up with an awful lot,'' he said. ``If affects your whole family. It is very important to have your wife on your side.''
Volunteer firefighters are like family. And in several cases it is a family tradition. The Merkles' two sons _ Michael and Brian _ also are members of the department. Brian's wife, Tammy, said she knew what she was getting into and did not hesitate at the lifelong commitment. They've been married for three years and have a young daughter and a baby on the way.
``How could I fault him for helping people?'' she said. ``It can get frustrating but it means so much to him. If I had something that important to me, he would support me.''
Being married to a firefighter means there must be a willingness to make constant adjustments in life. Sometimes they are subtle; sometimes they are disruptive.
When the Massingills go out for dinner, they stay in Dundee so they could either walk home or run to the fire station if necessary. When Brian and Tammy Merkle go grocery shopping, they hit the dairy aisle last because too often they have had to leave a grocery cart full of items to run to a call.
In all cases, the lives of firefighting families must be flexible. Vacations sometimes are uneasy, Sharon Welton said, because her husband worries about enough manpower back home. And when it comes to social gatherings, wives often have to go solo, at least for a while.
About 20 years ago the Weltons were on their way to Christmas Eve party from church when a call came and off he went. Mary Massingill recalled the Christmas morning when the kids had to wait to open gifts until their father came back from a call.
And if the sacrifices are not enough, there is always the worry. When the call comes, especially if it's a house fire, concerns mount for family members. So Mary Massingill makes sure she lets her husband know she's thinking of him while she keeps an ear close to the scanner.
``You can't say for sure if they're coming back,'' she said. ``I almost without fail, when he's going out, say I love you and be careful.'''
