Dads put out fires at home, at work

David George lives on an 80-acre-spread 10 miles west of Wahoo, Neb.

With 10 kids, he needs the space.

When's he's home, he's in constant motion — picking up the crying baby who was born on Father's Day, rushing to Wahoo to pick up his 15-year-old son from football practice, rounding up the kids for the short jaunt to the country Catholic church on Sunday mornings or Saturday nights. He is, in essence, the quintessential family man — Ward Cleaver with five times as many kids.

George's attention is diverted when he goes to work at Fire Station 63 in southwest Omaha. There, he shifts from Mr. Mom to macho man — driving a firetruck with three other hulking guys, cooking manly meals in the firehouse kitchen, taking a break in one of many recliners around a billboard-size TV. At any moment, a crackling intercom barking directions to an emergency can cut those breaks short. Within literally a minute, George and his team are in the truck and roaring to deal with flames, heatstroke patients or choking babies.

Having a huge family and fighting fires for a living have much in common. They're both high-stress, high-reward situations.

And George has someone who understands exactly what he goes through. Station 63's captain is John Glesinger, who just happens to have seven kids.

One thing's for certain: Both George and Glesinger are pretty darn good at putting out fires — on the job and at home.

While they're fast at dousing flames, the best race between the two might be a diaper-changing competition.

“But I've probably got the edge there,” said George, whose youngest was born about three months ago. George has had at least one child in diapers every day for 15 years. Glesinger's youngest is 6, so he's a bit rusty.

George and Glesinger work 24-hour shifts, followed by 24-hour breaks. They do that for 10 days before getting five days off. While they work, they live at the firehouse, where they have to be ready for all kinds of emergencies. That means their wives are solely in charge of the families.

If a kid gets sick, their wives have to deal with it. If a car breaks down, it's all on the wives. If two kids need to be in different places at the same time, the wives have to figure it out.

You see where this is going: These guys really appreciate their spouses.

“A lot of people ask me if my wife works,” George said. “I say, ‘No, she doesn't do a darn thing.'”

He's joking, of course. While he's with the guys at the firehouse, his wife, Kristin, is changing diapers, consoling crying little ones and cooking. She probably puts out twice as many fires as he does.

Of course, George and Glesinger help out as much as they can. George does most of the family's grocery shopping on his off-days. Glesinger carts kids around to practices when he's not at the station, usually driving his 1989 Suburban with 150,000 miles on it.

Still, with a big family and a demanding job, there usually isn't enough time for everything.

“I have a honey-do list so far in arrears it's not even funny,” Glesinger said.

To help meet the demands, Glesinger often recites a cliché he knows his kids dread.

“Everyone has to help pull the wagon,” said Glesinger, who perfectly looks the part with a classic dad-style mustache. “The kids don't necessarily like to hear that, but trust me, they hear it a lot.”

That means older kids drive younger ones and often help watch the others.

Glesinger's wife, Michaela, loves it when he suggests they leave the kids at home and go for coffee. After all, the family owns five cell phones in case there's an emergency.

Likewise, on his off days, George rounds up the kids, while his wife takes an hourlong, four-mile walk around their land. Doing something for herself is a simple but much-needed reward.

The George family also has a routine to keep the kids under control at church. The kids get to sit with Mom until they reach 18 months, then they move down the pew next to Dad. He has one big rule: Be quiet. If they aren't, they get an intense, eye-bulging glare. George may be on the short side, but he's built like a Navy SEAL and doesn't lack intensity. The kids tend to behave.

But George can only do so much. He missed three kids' birthdays in August because he was working.

With all the hectic times, folks naturally ask: Why so many kids?

George and Glesinger both answer the same way: It's the Lord's will.

Neither couple uses birth control. If another little one is on the way, then it was meant to be. And even as their families keep expanding, both men see new additions as a blessing.

“It's a burden, but it's a sweet burden,” Glesinger said.

George feels the same way — at least until the kids start driving. Finding enough cars and paying insurance will be financially difficult, but his concerns run deeper.

He has responded to gory wrecks. He worked a car wreck in which a toddler died near 180th Street and West Center Road earlier this year. His thoughts naturally turn to his children in those situations. He thanks God that they're healthy and happy. He hopes it stays that way once they hit the Saunders County gravel roads around his home.

If he had his way, he'd continue to drive all of them in the family's 15-passenger van, which has five car seats at the moment.

That may seem absurd for many families, but it's natural for George. He's the youngest of 12 siblings. He likes being part of a group.

“Sometimes I feel guilty for having this much fun and this much love,” he said. “It's great being surrounded by so many people who love you.”

Contact the writer:

444-1220, dane.stickney@owh.com

« Living

Share