Depending on the day I'm having, I either thank my grandmother or blame her for my career.
Either way, she's a big reason I do what I do for a living.
When I was 4-years-old, Nana brought me to a firehouse in Concord, New Hampshire.
I don't remember which one, but I still have the photo she took of me standing on the tailboard of an engine, proudly wearing a firefighter's helmet, with the number "9" on the shield.
I remember watching episodes of Emergency! on her family room floor, and the time she bought me a headlamp from LL Bean that you wore on your head because I thought it was something Paramedics Gage and DeSoto would wear.
I also remember going out with her on her little skiff into Maine's Casco Bay near Bailey Island, where she had "retired," if you could call it that.
She was the least retired retired person I ever met.
She was always running exercise classes on the islands or at the nearby Naval Air Station in Brunswick, or SCUBA diving in the Caribbean with her best friend, all of which she did until she was well into her 80s.
For fun, she launched and hauled a 20-pot string of lobster traps every year, guaranteeing we always had some of the freshest Maine lobsters around whenever we visited.
Most of all, Nana taught me to appreciate the people who help us.
She was incredibly proud of what I do for a living -- incredibly proud of what WE do for a living.
Nana understood sacrifice and hard work and doing something with your life that serves a higher good, and she always had a special place in her heart for paramedics and firefighters and cops and teachers and nurses and all those people who serve our families and communities every day with little or no fanfare.
Whenever I'm fortunate enough on the job to help someone in some small way, I know that I'm pleasing my grandmother to no end.
So it saddens me to say that those of us in public safety lost a true friend this week.
Arlene Hanchett, my Nana, of Brunswick, Maine, died Monday at the age of 94.
She was a friend of ours, and will always be.
Peak Overdose
1 week ago
4 comments:
I am sorry for your loss Ted. We don't enough of the greatest generation left.
Ted,
I am truly sorry to hear about your nana. She sounds like a real firecracker!! I am glad she got to enjoy all there is to life.
Heidi
I wish I had the opportunity to meet her, but I feel as though I know her after reading your post. Sorry for your loss.
I'm sorry for your loss Ted. She seems like a real hoot! The fact that she's proud of you for your job is a great thing. The fact that I'm a medic, my dad wears like a badge of honor.
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