Frank Coursey

My teacher: Frank Coursey
When I walked up to that fire department 15 years ago, all curious and intimidated, I didn't know what to expect, but I knew that it was something I wanted to be a part of and something I wanted to find out. Being a female and being by myself, I was a little scared. There were many guys that helped me, showed me the ropes, taught me what I needed to know to do the job and be safe.
Frank Coursey was one of the founding members of NVFD and someone who took me under his wing from day one.

He always had a kind smile...one that I will never ever forget. He was one of the kindest, most gentle men that I have ever known.
He taught me everything from how to fill the SCBA on the cascade to how to cook hash. I remember the last ride I had with him. About a month ago, we got toned out for a house fire. I was behind him flying low into the station (I was coming from the high school and he had just sat down for lunch at Ryans). We both met at the same time and he said we should take 305. I didn't quite understand why we weren't hopping into our first out engine, but went with him anyway. We were at the red light and I heard Keith (who was already on-scene) over the radio telling us to respond with a truck that could hang a hydrant. Frank says "what did he say?"...I said, "Keith said we needed to respond with a truck that can hang a hydrant". I looked at him as I said this and yelled over the sirens, "THAT'S NOT THIS TRUCK" he realized it, too at the same time I was shouting. He whipped that thing around in the road like it was a sportscar, we got a different truck, and headed on over to the house.
That man's heart seemed as young as it was the day he was born. Until. Until Thanksgiving Day when we passed from this world from a heart attack. I got the call and absolutely could not believe it. I had just seen him the night before, but never another night.
He was about to undergo treatment for prostate cancer. He kept his chin up through the whole diagnosis and never lost his faith. He was supposed to go to Atlanta the end of December, but when we were talking about the Christmas supper he said, "If I get the call, I am gone". Later, we reflected on how prophetic that statement actually was.

So, last weekend was filled with a lot of tears and diligent firefighters working together to make sure Frank had a proper firefighter's funeral with all of the honors. We began washing all the trucks...every little crevice, every little spot any dirt could hide. They were sparkling. We decorated Engine 301, the main truck he drove. The funeral proceeded, with no standing room to be had in the church. We loaded him into the bed of his truck and in a procession of 20 trucks from around the county, took him to the cemetary. The bagpipes started playing Amazing Grace and in full dress uniform, we held our salutes until he was unloaded and at the gravesite.

The Last Call. I have seen every grown man in my department cry. The Last Call. County Control Dispatch called for him over the radio 3 times with no response, then gave him permission to "Go on Home".
Go home, angel. Thanks for everything you have taught me and all the memories, but most of all...thanks for those smiles.