After experiencing a long series of losing several individuals from heart attacks, drunk driving accidents, suicides, knife and gun fights and other senseless acts of violence in our town, I was beginning to get a case of "burnout" (common among firefighters, emergency medical personnel and law enforcement officers). For me, this was from not being able to make "the difference" I had been trained to do. After all, that's what we're supposed to do, right? Well, one afternoon we were called out to our local County Park where a boater had fallen overboard into Galveston Bay and couldn't be found. We (our Department) do not own any watercraft, so we used our own personal boats to join in the search with the Sheriff's Department Marine Division, the Kemah Police Department's Marine Division, and a US Coast Guard launch and helicopter. After being out on the water for several hours, our boat was running dangerously low on fuel (we were already on our spare fuel tank) and it was starting to get dark. I had resigned to the fact that all we were doing now was working on a body recovery, but I was not prepared to handle what waited for me back on shore. After trailering our boat, we pulled up and parked next to the Sheriff's tow vehicle to await word from the searchers still out on the water. The family of the boater had arrived at the park and were naturally distraught. A Sheriff's Deputy was talking with them when their marine unit returned to the dock. All they were able to find was the boater's cap. A young boy, maybe 6 or 7 years old, spotted the cap and went totally hysterical. His blood curdling screams of " My Daddy! . . . I've lost my Daddy! . . . Please find my Daddy!" cut through my heart like an icy cold knife. How do you tell a young child there is nothing else you can do to find or save his daddy? That was just too much for me. The straw that broke the camels back, you might say. I slowly became depressed (at the time I didn't know why). I became intolerant of others, and a real bitch to my own family. I was losing interest in the fire department, and I didn't care to participate in any activities with them. What I needed was some distance and a distraction to get my mind off all the death I had witnessed. I needed to somehow get a mark in the "WIN" column for a change. Strangely enough, it came to me in the form of some wilting and dying plants at our local home improvement store.

Several months had past since the boating incident. Me and Debbie were at a Lowe's Home Improvement store one day and we decided to take a trip through the garden section. Deb was talking about getting some plants to put around the house to kind of spruce things up a little, and she wanted to take a look at what they had to offer. While out in the nursery section, I spotted a mark-down rack full of plants that looked like they hadn't been cared for since they were first delivered to the store. This really bugged me for some reason. Soon I was sorting through the plants, picking out any plant which showed any sign of life still in it. I was bound and determined to save something - even if it was just a few damn plants. I walked out of there with a cart full of 25 and 50 cent plants to salvage. I attacked this project with the fervor of an uncontrollable obsession. Unconsciously, I guess I was still looking for that mark in the win column, but what I got back was a whole lot more. After babying and caring for these plants throughout the winter, they came back and florished beautifully. The feelings I had when those first new buds came out, the signs of new life, and the beautiful flowers that soon followed were indescribable. I have found that this activity is relaxing (although not on the back sometimes), and it gives me a chance to just think, unwind and get life back into proper perspective. They allowed me to get back into action both in my life and my fire department. Contrary to the advice of many noted gardening authorities, I still find myself perusing the mark-down racks, looking for clearance items and those sickly little plants that just need a little help.

Last Update: 11/18/05
The Donahue Family
(Ken & Debbie, Mark & Diane, Michael, "Granny Evonne", Renee, Madison & Alex)
Rt. 1, Box 1605
Dickinson, TX 77539