fire fighters

Randolph Mantooth (1945-2026)

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This is the link to the Hollywood Reporter obituary of Randolph Mantooth, who died on Thursday at the age of 80.

A sad day for those of us who grew up with him and Kevin Tighe who played Johnny Gage and Roy DeSoto, respectively on the hit television show, Emergency!.

I still hum the music when I’m backing my car into the driveway.

When the show came out, there were only a handful of paramedics. The show was practically a public service announcement for recruitment. The profession was so unknown when Randy was told his role would be as a paramedic, his question was, “what the hell is a paramedic?”

Decades later, we all know how crucial those paramedics and EMTs are in an emergency and the show was integral in expanding that reach. Mantooth and Tighe continued to support the fire service and the LA Fire Museum over the years.

We introduced my oldest son, then three or four years old, to the show in reruns when he was obsessed with fire trucks and fire fighters. He dressed up as one for Halloween when he was four. He visited fire stations wherever we traveled including his uncle’s fire station on Long Island. He even went to college for fire protection/safety and became a volunteer fire fighter and an EMT during and after college. Emergency was a favorite show of his.

A few years ago, he was in California for a training session for his job, and he visited the Los Angeles Fire Museum, and got himself a Squad 51 t-shirt.

Part of the museum’s statement is below:

From Los Angeles County Fire Museum

Thank you Randy for your friendship!   You will be sorely missed. 

To Randy’s wife Kristen and Randy’s family.  We are here for you all and want to thank you for sharing Randy with us and the world. 
We are so very sorry for your loss. 

The Museum will be accepting condolence cards for the family.  If you would like to send a card please send to the Museum’s shop address at:

LA County Fire Museum
9834 Flora Vista St
Bellflower Calif 90706

KMG 365

Mental Health Monday – September 11th

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Today is one of those days that needs some extra quiet.

I drove my son to work, and then sat in the car for over 30 minutes, discussing what I wanted to eat for breakfast with myself. Having not really decided, I just sat there. I knew what day it was, but it hadn’t imprinted on my mind yet. When it did, I at least understood my unexplainable melancholy.

In the interim between 2001 and today, I have met and befriended a few people who were there, in lower Manhattan when the World Trade Center fell, who were in one of the buildings when it was hit. We’ve heard stories of friends with near misses, where fate – or providence – kept them from being there that day, and others who found their way home, ghost-like.

I have pangs of guilt, feeling the strong feelings of Nine-Eleven when I wasn’t physically there, but in the ensuing years, I have come to accept and be at one with my own trauma. No, I wasn’t in attendance, but I had been affected more than a previous tourist, visiting once or twice. This was my home. Both of my parents were from the Bronx. I was born in the Bronx and grew up in Queens and on Long Island. At the time of the attacks, we had just returned from visiting my parents and my mother-in-law the day before, crossing the Throgs Neck Bridge, pointing out the New York City skyline to our four-year-old son. We viewed that sight not twenty-four hours before, the same perfect blue sky guiding our way north.

I resent out of state politicians using 9/11 as their fundraising, their inspo-porn, trauma-porn, and call to arms that they have no right to.

For more than a year after, when I traveled on our local highway to the state capital, I would shudder at the sight of a plane flying overhead, sinking lower and lower in the sky as it descended to the airport runway that I was passing. Our house is in the flight path of two small, local airports, and every time a plane flew low, I would have a visceral reaction. I felt that these reactions and feelings were not mine to have – I wasn’t there!

But in a way, I was.

This was my home. These were my people.

And I’ve decided to own my pain and my trauma of that day.

That’s my mental health Monday suggestion this week: don’t let others tell you how to feel. Only you know how you feel, and you should let yourself feel the things. It’s possible that the feelings can be too much, but if that’s the case, seek out a professional. Talking to someone who is a professional can do wonders for your mental health, not only today, but any day.

Have a peaceful, blessed, quiet, tea-filled day.

❤