By Erin Etris
White County News general manager
When I think back on the horrific events of 9/11, I recall our nation ral- lying around the men and women who ran into that fateful calamity while Manhattanites fled in terror and the rest of us watched in shock. I’m proud the News recognizes this day every year to honor our own Hometown Heroes. I can’t think of a better way to join in the observance than sharing two first responders in my life.
My dad, Bob Gish, retired as captain from the Atlanta Fire Depart- ment after 30 years of service. Grow- ing up in the city, there were no school buses and Dad would take the city bus to and from school. Every afternoon, Dad and two friends would take orders and collect money from classmates as the bus lumbered down Peachtree Street. When the bus stopped at Lenox Square, the trio would jump off, run through the then open-air mall to the Magic Market corner store where Toot- sie Pops were three for a dime. Once their orders were filled, Dad and his friends would take off again to catch the bus at the next stop and pass out the pre-ordered pops. Little endeavors like this would help Dad learn the city like the back of his hand but candy sales wouldn’t be in his future.
To Dad, firefighting has never been a job. It has been his whole life. At a funeral once, a family-friend com- plimented the tiny bulldog pin on my dad’s tie saying she didn’t know Dad was a UGA fan. He politely remarked it was the Mack Truck bulldog for the trucks he used to navigate through the city streets, sirens screaming and lights blaring. Dad is and will always be my hero, selflessly driven by duty and the quiet desire to serve.
The second man I have never met and likely never will. One night 16 years ago, he saved my husband’s life.
It was 2009; two years before 21-year-old Charles and I would start dating. He had ridden to a Halloween party with a friend and both began drinking shortly after they arrived. As the night wore on, Charles decided he’d had enough and went out to his friend’s car, quietly slipping into the passenger seat to sleep it off. Not long after, the driver stumbled out of the party. He cranked up the car and headed down the road, Charles still asleep in the front seat. The vehicle made it to the highway before slamming into the pillar of a concrete overpass. Charles’ head hit the windshield and his back snapped in two. His broken body would fall back with force into his seat as his friend asked him if they should run and ditch the car.
“No, man. I’m real messed up. I need you to stay with me,” was all Charles could muster. Suddenly, a powerful yank would peel the mangled door open and a voice would say, “Hang on, buddy. I’ve got you.” In that moment, Charles describes a peace falling over him that we both believe was the Holy Spirit and the man, an angel from the Lord. After reaching the hospital, surgeons would fuse Charles’ spine back together.
Later, Charles would inquire about the man but all anyone knew was that he had been a retired police officer.
Charles’ life would be forever changed after the accident. It isn’t often that we dwell on that night but if we do, we are sure to join hands, bow our heads and say a prayer for the many heroes that helped save Charles’ life, especially that man, our angel.