My father is a hero

By Mandy Walton

Wednesday, Feb. 11, 2009 | 11:52 a.m.

“Your father is a hero,” my mom said as I opened the door for her yesterday morning. I’m working a different schedule at work this week, and since she is my babysitter, she too has to be up at the crack of dawn with me. Telling me that my father is a hero was not what I was expecting to hear from her at 6:50 a.m.

Of course my dad is a hero, to me, I thought. I was crankily awake and confused at what she was talking about.

To give you a little background, my dad has worked at Titanium Metals for over 35 years and has worked 12-hour shifts. Like most people, he has a route that he takes to and from work, and, for 35 years, I doubt that he has ventured off of that route too many times. Yesterday, however, for whatever reason, he went off the route on his way home -- and is a hero because of it.

I don’t want to brag about what happened just because he’s my dad (ok maybe a little), but I would hope that any citizen of our community would have acted in the same manner.

Turning off of his normal route, my dad decided to drive down Chaparral Drive, which is a residential street. To his surprise, he came across a house engulfed in flames. Alarmed and looking around, he realized that he was the only person who was aware of this. The sleeping family who lived in the house was awakened when my dad pounded on their door. When you’re awakened out of a deep sleep, things can seem quite surreal. I can only imagine what went through the minds of this family as they came to their senses that their house was on fire.

One by one, they started waking up and filing out of their house to find my dad spraying their roof with a garden hose. 911 was called, the fire department showed up and, my dad went on home to get his sleep for the day after telling my mother what had happened.

As my dad left for work again tonight, he decided to drive by the house and check to see if things were OK. To his surprise, the homeowner was outside, recognized him, and thanked him profusely. He even hugged my father. Hearing this warmed my heart with gratitude, not only because my dad did a good thing, but also for those who are appreciative of the good deeds of others.

When I e-mailed my dad at work tonight and asked him how it felt to be a hero, he simply replied,

“Thanks, but your daddy is always supposed to be a hero.”

And, always caring about others, he said, “It felt good to know that no one was hurt because of the fire.”