EDITOR’S NOTE: Fredericktown Community Fire District Chief Scott Mast announced he will be retiring on April 18 during FCFD’s Jan. 24 awards banquet. At that banquet, Mast emotionally shared his memoir titled The 7th Grader. Mast’s full memoir is below.
FREDERICKTOWN — As I reminisce about my time in the fire service, I feel that I owe it to the current and future firefighters to try and express what the fire service has meant to me.
Hopefully, at a minimum, this will establish a point of reference for each person to decide to what extent they can competently and reasonably commit to participating in public service.
Also, maybe this can lead to the development of the foresight to realize some of the potentially significant pitfalls that can be encountered and lead to taking corrective actions to minimize the effects. This foresight can result in early recognition of the negative aspects that can easily overshadow and overtake the positives.
To me, a firefighter is a firefighter. A career firefighter or a volunteer firefighter does the exact same job.
A fire burns the same way regardless of who is fighting against it. A vehicle accident results in the same entanglement of metal, regardless of where the accident takes place.
I do, however, tend to believe that the volunteer firefighter is tasked with a heavier burden. They essentially are “on-duty” 24 hours a day each and every day, while a career firefighter is “on-duty” for 24 hours every third day.
Regardless, being a firefighter, either career or volunteer, can shape who a person is in a positive manner, and yet it can also control and undermine who you want to be and how you prioritize your life.
It can be a difficult balance that is very uncommon for the typical person in a typical career.
Where it began
Growing up, one of my favorite television shows to watch was Emergency.
Every episode, firefighters Johnny Gage and Roy DeSoto were busy performing rescues and fighting fires. They were clearly making a difference in the lives of the public that they were serving, and they were having fun doing it.
At the age I was watching this, I don’t think career choices were on my mind, but certainly, my early interest in watching this show had to play a part in where I am today.
In fact, when Jeff Harmer was still on the department, he and I used to refer to each other as “Johnny” and “Roy.” And, to this day, we will still make references to those nicknames when we see each other.
On the last day of class of my seventh grade year, my dad was in a very serious trucking accident in a remote section of an interstate highway. His injuries were very significant and life-threatening.
An off-duty firefighter happened to be fishing nearby. He heard the accident take place and came to render aid.
Undoubtedly, his training, experience, quick actions, and care were crucial in helping my dad survive the accident.
This was truly the point at which I knew I wanted to somehow be in the position to help others and hopefully be able to save some lives in the process. I wanted to “pay back” the efforts of that off-duty firefighter who saved my dad’s life.
The time put in
I can confidently say that I achieved some part of that mission throughout my time in the fire service. I know of several truly lifesaving events I was a part of, in which these made the time and effort of being on the department feel worthwhile.
However, I have never felt that any of it would be considered by me as “debt paid in full.”
There will always be the next emergency call that you can potentially make a life-or-death difference to. It isn’t a game of numbers and keeping track of the score. It is an ongoing conscious effort to be there when needed.
Although I was able to accomplish the goal that I set for myself over 46 years ago, I have found it difficult at times to believe it to be worthwhile.
That may not seem to make sense to some people, as it has always been confusing for me to contemplate and rationalize at times. This equates to the “risk versus reward” concept frequently used in the fire service.
Is the risk in doing something truly worth the reward in doing it?
The risks and rewards aren’t always tangible items that can be seen or felt or measured. Most often, they are imagined values derived by the brain to justify if an action was worthwhile or not.
That level of judgment can be extremely confusing and leave lingering doubts in the mind. Was the risk worth the reward? Were my actions worth the results?
Deliberating this with oneself can create an extremely heavy burden.
The cost and the costs of the cost
I joined the Fire Department five months before the birth of my first child, Bronson. Since then and up to today, my five children have been raised by a firefighter dad in a volunteer firefighter world.
This world is like none other and can not be easily described to the common person. Like any world, it has its good and it has its bad.
The defining factor is being able to recognize the bad and be able to avoid it. This can be much easier said than done.
When I joined the department, I hit the ground running and have basically never stopped. I was in constant search of that “life-saving” moment in which I could repay my debt.
I thought once I achieved that “moment”, I would feel accomplished enough to be able to scale back and curb my enthusiasm.
This feeling has never happened.
I thought it would be a “one and done” kind of thing. It hasn’t been. It has always been about trying to prevent the next seventh grader from experiencing the heartache. Or the seventh grader after that, and the seventh grader after that and so on.
I have ended up always wanting to try to ensure that the next seventh grader doesn’t have to encounter a tragic situation and the lifelong family-related consequences that accompany it. It became a never-ending cycle.
My intent and actions were pure. It wasn’t to be called a “hero.”
It was to make a positive difference by preventing a negative difference from being made. If I saved a life or significantly improved a life at the time, I could prevent an undesirable “difference” from happening in the life of a seventh grader.
I know this “positive difference” has taken place to some degree because I have seen the results. I have had family members thank me for my efforts.
And this is not all from my actions, but also from actions put forth through the efforts of the many great firefighters our department has had. I am thankful that I have been put into situations and have had the blessing of the abilities to be able to do and lead such things.
God has been good to me, and I have been able to utilize that goodness to help others.
While this may sound and seem to be fulfilling, there is a significant cost associated with it. Although this cost shouldn’t be deducted from the amount of the good.
The seventh grader deserves all of the good.
The cost and the costs of the cost, continued
To me, the cost has accumulated internally. Again, not the fault of the people I have helped. It is my fault for not being able to recognize “the cost of the cost.”
What is the “cost of the cost?”
To me, this is the collateral damage my family has been subjected to over the years through my efforts to help others.
The cost of my time and efforts to help others has, in turn, resulted in a cost to my family. This is the “cost of the cost.” It is not measurable, but it is significant.
Please keep in mind that I do not blame anyone else. This is from my conscious actions. I might deserve the burden of “the cost,” but my family did not deserve “the cost.”
What is “the cost?” To me, it is my family’s loss of memories from me missing out on part of or all of many family moments, such as birthday parties, sporting events, school functions, family meals, holiday celebrations, and much more.
It is the general loss of any family time and memories that cannot be replaced. The list is long.
It is a black cloud of darkness that had surrounded me for a great number of years, and yet I did not even know it existed.
This cloud is the result of the failed “life-saving” attempts that were permanently etched in color in my eyes and would not leave me alone, either night or day.
A cloud that controlled my emotions and made me a person that I was not proud of.
It made me a father that I am not proud of. It took away some goodness in my family. It made me a son, brother, husband, and friend that I would have never wanted to be.
All of this was taking place with me not realizing it and thinking it was just “normal” and who I must really be.
Detroit Firefighter Dave Parnell stated it best, “I wish my head could forget what my eyes have seen.”
Overcoming the darkness
Through the grace and love of God, I was able to finally realize that I wasn’t “normal” and that there had to be a better way to live.
Taking action to seek help, for several years now, I have been able to shed the cloak of that darkness.
I can see through most of the haunting images and experience things in literally a whole new light. I have a new realization of what is important and relevant, and what is not.
Oh, what a feeling.
However, it is difficult to finally realize the significance of this cost after so many years have passed. It should have been obvious to me. This realization is very disheartening.
A less significant cost than that of my family has been the physical cost. An injury during a house fire resulted in surgery and a hospital stay of a few days, and another injury resulted in an outpatient surgery.
The general wear-and-tear of the physicality of firefighting has taken an overall toll on my body.
A person’s body really isn’t designed for falling through floors a few times.
With the renewed understanding of myself, a supportive wife, and some insight from my children, I am thankful that I have been able to re-establish some of my priorities and re-align my mission in life.
It is time to reduce some of “the cost” of “the cost.”
However much I wish I could replace the lost time and missed memory opportunities with my family, it will never be possible. My only recourse is to learn from the past and make the best of the future.
I can’t fix it from the beginning with my children, but I can continue from today. I am also blessed with the opportunity to create long-lasting memories with my grandsons, starting at an early age.
This is by no means a repayment of the debt I owe my children, but, at least, a way to start making things right for all.
The good times
While there has been an accumulation of “costs,” it is only fair to point out that there has been an accumulation of assets, also.
There are numerous good memories associated with the department, including the brotherhood and camaraderie familiar to the fire service.
Many pranks have been played, jokes have been made and times of fellowship have taken place.
I have made many friends and acquaintances throughout the fire service community. Several people in the department have been my faithful band of brothers for many years. I consider myself fortunate for that.
I have experienced many unique opportunities that can only be afforded through association with the fire service.
For example, one can never get enough of watching things get blown up with dynamite.
I can’t begin to remember or even start to tell all of the meaningful stories that I have been a part of. I wish I had taken the time to write them down.
I challenge those of you here to take that time. When you become my age, you will realize how quickly time does pass and how easily things can be forgotten.
The fire service’s foundation is built on history. That history needs to be passed on from generation to generation.
Notable events from a storied career
I will share a few notable events I remember as though they took place yesterday.
When Bronson was in school to get his firefighter certification, I was invited by the school to participate in their first live-burn session.
I was fortunate to be right beside Bronson during his very first firefight, and what has turned out to be the first of many for him. He has learned the trade well and is one of the best.
I still vividly remember working a grass fire with Mackenzie when she was in the department. Standing in the back of the grass truck with me, spraying water on the burning vegetation, she proved she was capable of getting the job done.
Jim Bostic happened to take a picture of us, and that is definitely one of my favorite photographs and memories.
I was there for Brayden’s first firefight, when he joined me and Captain Smith in a residential structure fire. This would end up being an additionally memorable experience for both of us.
I was in front, Captain Smith was behind me, and Brayden was last in line. As we were crawling across the attic, I ended up falling through the attic to the first floor.
Brayden, being behind Captain Smith and in the smoke and darkness, was left trying to comprehend what just taken place and as to why I suddenly disappeared.
He was even more confused after I ended up being behind him once I went back to rejoin them. What a unique welcome to the fire service.
Meghan was involved in the cadet program at one point. At this time, all of my grown children were a part of the fire service and the FCFD. If there was a record for something like this, I am certain that it will not soon be broken, if ever.
There are very few dads who can brag about having these types of moments with their children. They are very uncommon situations and certainly experiences that I will remember and covet forever.
Another very notable event was the heavily involved house fire that Charles Swank and I arrived at together. It was interesting how we made a simultaneous and unspoken decision to rush into the house, without a hose line, to search for a potential victim.
We stayed in the house searching until the fire completely forced us out. Charles later told me that this was one of his most memorable firefighting events, as it was for me also.
Coming from a guy like Charles, that has always meant a lot. Little did I know, at that time, what the significance of that day spent with Charles would end up meaning to me.
I have seen the department do an immeasurable amount of good within the community. There have been many acts of kindness done without anyone ever knowing about them.
A selflessness exists that can’t be quantified or properly defined. It is an honor to be a part of such an organization, and that shouldn’t be taken for granted by anyone.
FCFD’s unseen goodness & letting someone else carry it on
When my youngest son, Brett, was seriously ill at the age of three during Christmas, the department rallied together to go shopping and provided the presents for my family.
This alleviated a lot of pressure at the time and was, and actually still is, very sincerely appreciated. This is just a small aspect of the tremendous goodness that comes forth from the department.
With all of this being said, it leads me to the point of realizing that changes can be good and changes can be needed.
I will be retiring from the department effective April 18. This is the date of my 60th birthday and a milestone that I wasn’t sure I would ever see.
This journey started in 1989. In that time, I have responded to approximately 4,500 calls, which is the most in the history of the department.
I spent six years as a line officer and 20 years as the Fire Chief. Those 20 years are the most in department history.
During my tenure, we have passed all of our fire levies with the gracious support of the community, and we have been awarded approximately $500,000 in grants.
I was tasked with being in command of one of our more significant events, the Main Street fire in 2010, which featured 120 firefighters from 25 fire departments.
I was also a part of the community-significant Dana Fire.
I am grateful to everyone who has sacrificed their time and efforts to be a member of the FCFD. It takes special people to do these extraordinary things.
Together, we have done great and meaningful things.
Please be mindful of the things I previously mentioned, both in yourself and in your fellow firefighters. Please learn from my mistakes and pitfalls so that they can have value to someone else.
Looking forward, I am ready to reallocate my time towards my family and myself.
Looking back, I think the seventh grader would be well pleased.
— Scott H. Mast