| ST. CLOUD -- In Rachel Begg's quietest hours alone at home, when she's hanging out with the guys at the downtown Kissimmee fire station, while she's studying to fulfill her dream of becoming a firefighter, memories of her husband, Dallas, are never far from her mind. Every class, every ambulance ride, every jogging session propels her back to the day in July when rookie firefighter Dallas Begg and Lt. John Mickel rushed into a burning Osceola County house during a training exercise and didn't come out alive. What were they thinking? What were their last words? Was there time for fear or suffering? Rachel Begg arrived at the Florida Hospital Kissimmee emergency room two hours after the blaze, too late to say goodbye to her husband of four months. Sobbing paramedics grabbed her by the arm and begged her not to look at Dallas' face, but she needed proof that her husband really was gone. Maybe they have the wrong person, Begg thought to herself. Maybe this man is burned so badly that they only think it's Dallas. But when a weeping nurse pulled back the bedclothes to reveal his feet, Rachel Begg recognized them immediately and knew she was a widow at the age of 20. The loss, instead of frightening Begg away, only strengthened her resolve to pursue the career she longed for even before she met Dallas. She understands why he loved the job that cost him his life because she loves it, too. "That feeling like when you're riding a roller coaster, and you go down and your heart jumps out of your chest -- that excitement. I love that," Begg said, her eyes lighting up. "I like the big trucks, and I like the sirens, all the perks of work as a firefighter. Going down the road, people move out of your way." Last semester, Begg took an emergency medical technician class at Valencia Community College. Now she's building up her endurance as she prepares physically, psychologically and emotionally to enter fire college in the fall. Few female firefightersIf she reaches her goal, Begg will become one of a growing but still small number of female firefighters. Nationwide, slightly more than 2 percent of paid firefighters are women, statistics show. In Florida, the percentage is nearly two times higher. In Orange County, the figure jumps to 9 percent, while 13.6 percent of firefighters are women in Miami-Dade County, which has an aggressive recruitment program. "Women are drawn to it for the same reasons that men are," said Terese Floren, executive director of Women in the Fire Service. "You're providing something that people really need. It's a physical job. You use your body as well as your brains." Sandra Waldron, the first woman to work in the United States as a paid firefighter, said that when she went to rookie school, she had to work twice as hard to be considered half as good. That was 30 years ago. Today, she said, barriers are not as strong. "If you show you can do the job, if you show you're really interested in being there and you show you're willing to go the extra mile, everyone accepts you," she said. Begg found acceptance -- and respect -- in her class at Valencia. Her teacher, Kissimmee firefighter David Knepper, said her presence was an inspiration to other students. The hazards of the job hit close to home July 30, when Dallas Begg and Mickel were victims of a flashover, a superheated burst of flame, at the former Florida Bible College. "They can see from her perspective how things are overcome," Knepper said. "There are difficulties in life. Our job is full of danger." Rachel Begg is not the sort of person who springs to mind at the mention of the word firefighter. She is slender, with the perfect skin of youth and a mane of long hair that's red in its latest incarnation. She's prone to laughing and making silly faces. "Can I be the victim?" she asks eagerly while munching on a peanut-butter cup during a class on immobilizing patients with spinal injuries. Yet reminders of the pain of her young life are always with her. A tattoo of a red heart with Dallas' name and the dates of his birth and death, 1981 and 2002, adorn the small of her back. She still wears her wedding ring and the diamond engagement ring Dallas gave her when he blurted out, "Do you want to be my wife?" on Aug. 6, 2001 -- after first asking her mother's permission to take her to New Smyrna Beach. Their shared Jehovah's Witness faith frowns on unchaperoned dating. "I grabbed the ring and I gave him a hug, and he was crying," she recalled. "He was on two knees. He was really begging." Just about everybody told Rachel and Dallas they were too young to get married. They became friends when she was 15 and a student at Cypress Creek High School in south Orange County. When they realized they were in love, they didn't want to wait. "They were absolutely perfect for each other," said Rachel's mother, Cindy Fallin. "The day she married him, we never worried about her again. We were so happy. We just felt he would take care of her." Looking for positivesSitting in the living room of the home she and Dallas shared, Rachel Begg watches her wedding video in rapt attention, a faint smile on her face, as if she is seeing it for the first time. Rachel loved being a wife. She got a kick out of cooking dinner for Dallas, who would thank her by doing the dishes and leaving a mushy card for her in her car. One of her fondest memories is of making more pancakes than the two of them could possibly eat and enjoying them together on the porch on a lazy Saturday morning. "He was the most honest person I ever met," she said. "He taught me how to go through life and how to take things as they come. To live right now rather than worry about what's going to happen or regret what did happen. Always think that something positive could come out of everything." It's hard to turn the kind of loss Rachel Begg endured into a positive. She had to grow up fast, do things women her age rarely have to do -- pick out a casket, bury her husband, learn how to live alone again. Their first wedding anniversary would have been Monday. She plans to visit his grave. 'Not a normal 21-year-old'People recognize Begg because of her misfortune. She knows some feel pain or pity, and she doesn't want either. With her new status as something of a public figure -- she got sympathy cards from all over the United States and Europe and a call from Gov. Jeb Bush -- comes responsibility. "I'm not a normal 21-year-old," Begg said. "I need to show people that I'm a good person, that I'm not going to forget about this or not learn by it." Last weekend, Begg moved out of the St. Cloud rental house she and Dallas shared and into her own home a couple of miles away with her cats, Anastasia and Booger. The old house was too full of memories. "It was just too much sadness for her," Fallin said. "She knows the things she has to do to move on." Begg is taking small steps. The young widow no longer wears her husband's wedding ring on a chain around her neck, but she displays it with other keepsakes. His yellow fire hat, No. 215. A brick from near the window where his fellow firefighters pulled him out of the burning building. A red rose from the stage at his memorial service. A posthumous medal of honor from the International Association of Fire Fighters. Sometimes, she draws back into the past. She'll open the drawer where Dallas' clothes remain and steal a whiff of his scent that still lingers. She closes the drawer quickly, not wanting the smell to dissipate. Most of the time, though, Begg focuses on the future. She spends time eating and watching TV with firefighters who work with Knepper, her teacher. She says she feels welcome at the firehouse, where the guys tell her war stories and give her tips. "They make fun of me," Begg said. "They joke around. It's just like having a lot of brothers." The next step for Begg is to attend the Central Florida Fire Academy in August. She hopes Osceola County will hire her because that was her husband's department, but she says she just wants to work as a firefighter somewhere. Although her husband always will be a part of her, Begg is ready for the transition from grieving widow to just plain Rachel Begg, firefighter candidate. "I think I'm relieved that I get to start over again," she said. Susan Jacobson can be reached at [email protected] or 407-931-5946. |
Firefighter's widow seeks same career
by Trauma_Hound 2 Replies latest watchtower beliefs
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Trauma_Hound
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Trauma_Hound
Since when can JW's get tattoos?
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teenyuck
Since when can young JW women have careers?! She should be pioneering to make it to the new system so she can hook back up with her spouse.
Seriously, I am happy she can/will have a career. I hope she meets a nice worldly firefighter, marries, leaves the cult and has a life...