Excerpts from the DailyHerald.com:
"Your house is on fire!" were the words my neighbor said on my wife’s phone as we were walking to our car at O’Hare International Airport on January 17, 2016.
I tried to reassure her that it might just be a chimney fire and everything would be okay. But as we drove home, we received countless calls from worried friends and family. We finally had to turn off our phones. The drive to Lindenhurst felt endless.
As we turned into our neighborhood, we saw a fire truck coming down the road. I could no longer pretend to be calm — I had to get there. When we rounded the corner, reality hit: our lives had changed forever.
There were four fire trucks, police cars, and ambulances spread out across the street. Hoses were everywhere, and so were people. As I approached, I saw our personal belongings scattered outside the broken windows and the charred front door. The smell was unlike anything I had ever experienced — and I had never faced anything like this before.
As I walked closer, I was greeted by neighbors and friends, but I kept moving forward. That’s when I met the firefighters, working hard to save homes. It was around 8 p.m., and the temperature had dropped to 26 degrees below zero. Snow, ice, and water covered everything. I watched teams of firefighters cutting holes in my walls with circular saws. At the time, I couldn’t understand why they were doing that — didn’t they know how much work I’d have to do later?
A big firefighter named Greg Phillips came up to me, soaked in ice from the water. He apologized and explained the severity of the fire — my home would be a total loss. He answered all my questions and told me what they had struggled with during the fire.
Thinking back now, I can only imagine how hard it must be to tell someone their life has been completely turned upside down.
For the next few hours, I watched the firefighters battle the flames in freezing temperatures. By 2:30 a.m., the fire was finally under control. They had to cut open my living room floor and flood the basement to put out the last of the flames.
As I walked around to thank them, I patted each one on the back and watched ice slide off their coats. They moved like the Tin Man from *The Wizard of Oz* — stiff and frozen. With the temperature dropping even further, rolling up the hoses became nearly impossible. They had to call for a pickup truck to help carry the frozen equipment.
Slowly, the trucks powered down, each firefighter exhausted after 10 hours of intense work in the cold. They had risked their lives to protect our homes, and yet, as they left, each one came over to tell me how sorry they were. They asked about my daughter, who was inside the house when the fire started, and made sure she was safe. These were strangers, but they gave more than I could ever ask for.
What I learned from this experience is that the Lake Villa Fire Protection District is made up of volunteer firefighters. They don’t do this full-time — they have other jobs. And yet, they showed up without hesitation. When they left my house at 2:30 a.m., they had to rush home to get some sleep before going to work the next day. It was almost like they hadn’t just fought a huge fire until the early hours of the morning.
I can’t thank enough the neighbors and friends who stood by us through all of this. One neighbor I barely knew stayed with me in the freezing cold, making sure I had blankets and jackets. People brought clothes, donations, and offered to help in any way they could. The Lindenhurst Police department kept watch over the smoldering ruins, keeping curious onlookers away. Each officer waved and asked if we were okay. You can’t repay that kind of kindness, but I know that when it’s their turn, I’ll be there for them too.
This story is also a reminder that I used to take the fire department for granted. My kids loved seeing them in parades because the trucks looked cool. But now, I see those trucks differently. You only want to see them in a parade, not in front of your house. When they’re there, the people inside become real heroes.
I’ve always waved during parades and moved on. I passed by fire stations every day without thinking twice. Not anymore. These volunteers are doing something incredible — they work because they care. They save our memories, our families, and the things we love. They give up their time and safety so we can sleep at night and wake up in the morning. It sounds simple, but they are truly my heroes.
My family lost everything in that fire, but the message is clear: these firefighters didn’t give up. They worked through the worst weather Chicago could throw at them, despite injuries, and still cared deeply about the people they were trying to save.
This weekend is Lake Villa Days, a time when the whole community comes together for music, food, and fun. I’ve been going there for years. This year, though, I’m going for a different reason. The event is sponsored by the Lake Villa Firefighters Association, and I want to honor them.
I plan to find Greg Phillips and thank him personally, along with all the firefighters who helped my family. These men and women work around the clock to keep us safe, risking their lives and showing incredible heart. They deserve more than just a wave during a parade — they deserve our gratitude and respect.
If you see a firefighter this weekend, take a moment to thank them. They are special people who do extraordinary things. I hope this story inspires you to do the same.
They are our heroes… trust me.
Thanks, Dan
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