Excerpts from the DailyHerald.com:
"Your house is on fire!" were the words of my neighbor on my wife’s phone as we were walking to our car at O’Hare International Airport on January 17, 2016.
The moment I heard that, my wife was completely shaken. I tried to reassure her that it might just be a chimney fire and that everything would be okay. But as we drove home, the calls kept coming — friends, family, neighbors all checking in. Eventually, we had to turn off our phones. The drive to Lindenhurst felt like it lasted forever.
As we turned into our neighborhood, we saw a fire truck speeding down the road. I couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine. I had to get there. When we rounded the corner, it hit me — reality had arrived, and our lives had changed forever.
There were four fire trucks, several police cars, and ambulances everywhere. Hoses were stretched across the street, and people were gathered in shock. As I got closer, I could see our personal belongings scattered by the broken windows and the charred front door. The smell was unbearable — something I had never experienced before.
I walked up slowly, not wanting to get in the way, but I was greeted by neighbors and friends. I kept moving forward for a better look. That’s when I met the firefighters, working hard to save homes. It was around 8 p.m., and it was freezing — snow, ice, and water everywhere. I could hear the sound of circular saws cutting through my walls. At the time, I didn’t understand why they were making holes. Didn’t they know how much work it would take to fix everything?
A big firefighter named Greg Phillips approached me, covered in ice from the water. He apologized and told me the fire was severe — my home would be a total loss. He answered every question I had and explained what they had struggled with during the fire.
Looking back, I can’t imagine how hard it must be to tell someone their life has been turned upside down. These firefighters are not just professionals; they’re human beings who feel the weight of their job.
For the next few hours, I watched as the firefighters worked in freezing temperatures, never once leaving the scene. By 2:30 a.m., the fire was finally out. They had to cut open my living room floor to flood my basement in order to put out the last flames.
As I walked around to thank them, I patted each one on the back and watched the ice slide off their coats. They moved like the Tin Man from *The Wizard of Oz*—frozen and stiff. With the temperature dropping to 26 degrees below zero, they struggled to roll up their hoses. They had to call in a pickup truck to help carry them.
Slowly, the trucks powered down. Each firefighter was exhausted, having spent about 10 hours in the cold, risking their lives so that my family and I could stay safe. And yet, one by one, they came over to tell me how sorry they were for my loss. They asked about my daughter, who was inside the house when the fire started, and made sure she was okay. These were strangers, yet they did more for us than most people ever do.
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, but they choose to serve because they care. When they left my home at 2:30 a.m., they had to rush home to get some sleep before heading to their regular jobs the next day. It was almost like they had never fought a fire until that night.
I can never repay all the neighbors and friends who stood by us during this time. One neighbor I barely knew stayed outside in the -26 degree cold with me, making sure I had blankets and warm clothes. People gave us clothes, donations, and offers to help in any way they could. The Lindenhurst Police Department kept watch over the smoldering ruins and kept the onlookers away. Every officer waved and asked if we were okay. You can’t pay that kind of kindness back, but I know that when it's their turn, I’ll be there for them too.
The reason I’m sharing this story is because I used to take the fire department for granted. My kids loved seeing them in parades because the trucks looked cool. But now I know — you only want to see those trucks in a parade. When they're in front of your house, the people inside become real heroes. Fires are unexpected, which is why we need fire departments. I used to wave during parades and move on. I’d drive by fire stations without thinking twice.
Not anymore. These guys are volunteers — doing what they love, but also serving their community. They fight for our memories, our families, and the things we hold dear. They work 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 the fire, but the bigger lesson is that these firefighters never gave up. They fought through the worst weather Chicago could throw at them, endured injuries, and still cared enough to keep going.
This weekend is Lake Villa Days, a time when the whole town comes together for fun. I’ve been going there for years — for the music, the drinks, and the chance to see friends. This year, I’m going for a different reason.
The event is sponsored by the Lake Villa Firefighters Association, and I’m going to honor the men and women who saved my family. I’m going to find Greg Phillips and thank him, along with every firefighter who helped that night. These are people who put their lives on the line, who have hearts of gold, and who deserve more than just a wave during a parade.
I hope after reading this, you’ll go to Lake Villa Days with a new perspective. Take a moment to thank a firefighter if you see them. They are amazing, dedicated people who do incredible work every single day.
They are our heroes… trust me.
Thanks, Dan
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