“I graduated from Westside in 1985. After that I went to Creighton University. It took me six years. Most people graduate in four, but I was having such a great time I changed majors. I probably have enough credits for a master’s degree or a doctorate, but I’m just a common dude with a lot of useless credit hours.
I always wanted to be a firefighter. Ever since I was five or six years old. My Aunt Mary Jean lived up the hill from Station 33, and my Uncle Joe owned Skudlarek’s Liquor across the street. Those guys were all friends with firefighters. Captain Willard Urban even worked at my uncle’s store. So I got a baptism into Omaha Fire Department culture early.
I remember those old World War II guys—tough dudes. It looked like a badass job, screaming down the street. I always said that’s what I wanted to do, either that or drive trains.
I took the Omaha Fire test right out of high school and did really well on the written. Got like a 97. But I was a cross-country runner who smoked cigarettes, and that physical agility test just about killed me. I finished it, but it wasn’t pretty. I went from number one on the written to number none on the physical.
During college I didn’t do much fire-related, but I worked at a summer camp and then with the Alpine Volunteer Fire Department in Wyoming. That kept the fire burning a little bit. But it wasn’t until 1993 that I really got serious and joined Millard as a volunteer.
Millard was great. It was a paid department that used volunteers, so you got exposure to what it meant to be a career firefighter. I worked out of the south station on Millard Avenue. You could respond from home or work out of the station.
When I started, I was out of shape. I smoked, ate like shit—chicken gizzards from the Stockade. John Johnson pulled me aside and said, “You think you’re a firefighter? You’re a liability.” That hit me. I realized he was right. That changed everything for me.
I got hired full-time in Millard in 1995. We were expanding—three stations, more coverage. My first assignment was the west station. Greg Stofer was my captain. That guy knew his stuff forwards and backwards. He didn’t let us sit around. We were learning pumps, checking hydrants with pitot tubes—every day you were learning something.
Back then, you’d show up to a fire with one engine and you were it for a while. There was a lot expected out of very few people. You learned fast. I remember a fire on a locomotive grinder system out near 180th and Giles. Huge plume of black smoke, diesel fuel burning. We busted our asses putting it out. Next day in the paper, there’s a picture of Papillion guys spraying water with the caption saying they put it out. We still laugh about that.
I loved Millard. It was a family department. Then the talk of Omaha taking over started getting real. That drumbeat picked up when Mike Dineen became chief. There was always talk of annexation, mergers, layoffs. Eventually it happened. Our first day with Omaha was January 1, 1998.
I worked a trade that day for Joe Mixan—and almost got killed. It was on Engine 61 with Captain Bob Vacek. Old, grizzled guy—like working with your dad. Tom Brosnan on the Truck—like working with your uncle. It was an old-school firehouse—cigarette smoke, old TVs.
We got toned out to Millard Cold Storage. I was inside on the attack line with Steve Ausdemore and Phil Lopez. It started getting really hot. I’m thinking, “This is it!” Next thing I know they’re screaming—we had to get out. The roof collapsed and ammonia tanks started blowing. That stuff was raining down on us all night. I remember going home the next morning, sick as a dog, thinking, “What have I gotten myself into?”
After that I went to Station 21, C-shift with Frank Parker, Fred Empkey, Bernie Kanger—good, hard-working guys, but they weren’t thrilled about the Millard merger. It was an eye-opener. I had candidates with more seniority than me. I just tried to keep my mouth shut, which was hard.
Eventually I moved to A-shift and started bouncing around—downtown, west, wherever. I volunteered for everything. Hazmat, paramedic school—whatever they needed. In 1999, I started paramedic school at Creighton. That was a wake-up call. I thought I was hot s*** until I got a 72 on my first quiz. Then I realized they expected real effort.
My preceptor, Bill Barages, was one of the best medics I’ve ever seen. I was focused on starting IVs while someone was dying, and he told me, “See the big picture.” That stuck with me. I ended up at Med 61, B-shift. I stayed about four or five years, working with Simon Lester and Kathy Georges. That’s where I really learned the job.
Then I went to Med 31. Great crew—Dave Sorich, Mike Giannato, Mike Reeb. Big, strong guys. I didn’t match up physically, but they were great to work with.
Eventually I moved into acting roles, took the captain’s test, and just kept moving through the job.I spent time at Station 33, which was like a family. We did everything together—Christmas parties, everything. But familiarity breeds contempt. After several years people change, the crew changes. You ride the wave while it’s there, then it’s time to move on. I went out to Engine 65—back to Millard. Felt like coming home. But it just wasn’t for me anymore. I was there a few months.
Then I came to Engine 5. At first, I had a chip on my shoulder. But over time I realized how dependable those guys were—Brad Lucas, John Revis, Jake Radicia with Dan Rue and Mike Kimble on the squad. I realized this is where I probably should have been ten years ago.
I had a crew with barely any experience, but it was like lightning in a bottle. Every once in a while you get that moment where everything just clicks.
Station 5 is busy. It takes a toll. Sleep deprivation, the same calls over and over, people who can’t fix their lives. But there’s still humanity there. We’ve had great saves—code saves that didn’t get recognized, but the crew performed like rock stars. That’s what matters.
We’ve had some wild calls. Fires in camps, cars with people in them, dragging patients out of wooded areas. You can’t make it up. The biggest thing I’ve learned is this isn’t our home. We didn’t cause what happened. We’re just there to get people to the next step.
If I had advice, it’s do everything. Don’t be stagnant. Go to paramedic school, join USAR, get involved in the union, go to the National Fire Academy. Don’t just sit in a slot your whole career.Take ownership of the job. If you don’t, you don’t get to complain about it.
I used to think when I left, the department would crumble. That’s not true. I was just a snapshot—from 1998 to 2026. The next generation is ready. They’ve got the same drive.
I loved this job. I loved the people.Now I’m going to Eppley. I’ll be the Senior Captain of Training. Funny how it comes full circle—started in a small department, ending in a small department.
At the end of the day, I did my best. That’s all you can do.”
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