Patience and Humility

Trey walks in the front door with a big smile on his mustachioed face. Before he’s even taken a second step into the house he blurts out, “I got the call!”

“Are you crying?”

Yes, I was.

Classrooms have never been Trey’s favorite place, but he always showed up. He may have needed his own “positive reinforcement only” behavior chart in second kindergarten, but went on to finish high school strong as both a wrestler and commanding officer of this Navy JROTC unit. Where I gravitate to knowledge work, he prefers physical. This and a love for the outdoors helped him earn the rank of Eagle Scout, and eventually led to a calling to serve as a Marine.

Trey applied to the U.S. Naval Academy and received all three Alaskan nominations, but was not accepted. He applied for a Navy ROTC scholarship and pushed himself so hard on the physical fitness exam that he vomited, but was not accepted. He applied to the Marine Corps’ Platoon Leader Course and considered the Coast Guard Reserves, but was ultimately disqualified for allergies.

Trey went on to attend Penn State Behrend, walked onto their D3 wrestling team, and was the only member of their Army ROTC unit without a commissioning contract. He beamed when showing us the locker he earned and when telling us how he’d smoke the cadets with contracts in morning PT. He worked with the instructors on a path towards a commission and made friends, but with long days of mental and physical exertion his grades began to fall.

“I like college, just not classes.”

Trey elected to attend our local community college for the spring semester to bring up his grades. He assured us that it had nothing to do with his long time girlfriend doing the same, but that July, with both parents’ blessing and the promise of waiting until they were employed, they were engaged.

Trey now had a new motivation: providing for his future wife. With renewed focus he returned to Behrend but tragedy struck only one month into the semester when his fiance was hit by a car crossing the road.

We both made the longest drives of our lives back to Maryland, me from North Carolina and him from Pennsylvania. How much truth do you give your 20-year-old while simultaneously preserving his ability to safely drive?

Trey wouldn’t leave the hospital those first days and because he wasn’t yet family, slept on the waiting room floor. He tried keeping up with classes virtually but withdrew and we transitioned into supporting his daily 90-minute round-trips to the trauma center. At some point he went back to work on a schedule that allowed him to be part of his fiance’s 24/7 care.

“You should stop by.”

Months into his fiance’s recovery, the local volunteer fire department stopped into the hardware store where Trey worked. Maybe he was staring with curiosity. Maybe they sensed his desire to serve. Regardless, one of them asked if he was interested in joining and said he should stop by after work.

To their surprise, he showed up.

He became a rookie, began work on his sign-offs, and completed fire fighter training. He sent us videos in the middle of the night from the speeding fire truck and proudly entered his first structure fire. He was voted in as a full member in less than a year and moved into the fire house. Trey had found a calling and turned his sights on a career with the benefits his fiance would need.

He applied to the District of Columbia, Anne Arundel, and Prince George’s professional fire departments. He used his network to gain ride alongs and studied for the written exams, passing all three. However, it suddenly began to feel like applying to the Marines all over again.

Anne Arundel rejected him for not wearing business casual to the exam and his lack of preference points put him near the bottom of DC’s candidate list. Prince George’s had vacancies and a large fire academy class starting in ten months to fill them. Our fingers were crossed that they would see in him what we know.

Trey waited two months, then filled out the background paperwork.

Waited two more, then filled out the medical forms.

Waited again, then completed the medical exam, scrambled to locate five years of military medical records in 14 days, and then waited several weeks for the results.

At this pace, we estimated a 50% chance of completing the process in time.

“Be here Wednesday and wear a suit.”

Trey did not own a suit, but with less than 48 hours notice he did and arrived an hour early for his background interview. We had spent the previous night preparing, reviewing potential questions and ensuring he had every piece of documentation imaginable. The investigator was all business, a seasoned law enforcement officer. He asked Trey the standard questions, highlighted that any lies would be a violation of law, and explained that he could not put forward a recommendation until every reference was contacted. Trey stared the gatekeeper in the eyes, thanked him for his time, and shook his hand goodbye. With the academy starting less than one month away and a chief’s interview remaining, our estimate dropped to 25%.

About a week later, the same investigator called me at work. I verified the information Trey had provided and at the end, he again explained that every reference must be contacted. He then mentioned that his next call was to Trey’s fiance. I politely reminded him that she was still recovering from a traumatic brain injury and as Trey indicated on his paperwork, it would be best to call one of her parents first.

Silence.

Then the investigator’s demeanor completely changed. He said how impressed “we all are” with Trey for standing by his fiance during this tragedy. He said how organized Trey was with paperwork (a first). He said how polite and respectful he was (not a first). He said that we should be proud as parents of the character we instilled in him. He said that unless he found something disqualifying, he would be recommending a chief’s interview…after every reference was contacted.

I was lifted by the mix of pride and timeline hope. We told Trey the news, but our estimate only went back up to 50%.

Three weeks until the academy start.

Two weeks.

When is this kid going to catch a break?

“Congratulations, we’d like to offer you a position in fire fighter/EMT recruit class 74.”

Trey got the call while on duty at the volunteer fire house. The chief had decided to hire him without an interview.

It of course took another few days for the written offer, but we weren’t complaining. With less than two weeks to spare Trey was officially hired. Regardless of how hard life was, he had shown up for 21 years.

Shown up to class.

Shown up to work.

Shown up at scouts.

Shown up for his team.

Shown up for his fiance.

Now he would show up for the first day of training and his career as a fire fighter.

Editor’s note: Thanks to Trey for helping me fill in the details and allowing me to use his name.