Mike O'Connell

Eleven years ago today, coincidentally enough, was also Ash Wednesday. Unlike today, where temps will be in the 60s, there were mounds of snow everywhere from a storm 48 hours prior.

And most importantly, one Franklin Sullivan O’Connell came into this world.

My boy.

And it’s getting tougher and tougher to claim I’m only 23.

Today on Math and Musings Franklin and I discuss all things March: birthdays, holidays, basketball, leprechauns.

Tomorrow begins the part of the year when it starts to get good again.

Enjoy.

Five weeks in a row of five days of school.

Ouch.

I’m reminded of the words of one of the great characters of theatre… Tevye the milkman from Fiddler on the Roof.

Five daughters.

(Pause for effect.)

Read that first line again like an overworked Russian peasant.

Google “Binghamton, New York” any time in the past few days and there’s only one news story that comes up.

I’ve been saying for years that Binghamton’s never in the news for anything good, and my god this is the worst news story you’ll ever hear.

A firetrap of an old run-down building, what I would call “classic Binghamton,” catches fire and a BFD crew responds to the call. Of course it’s the dead of winter and of course it’s late at night, but that’s only the start of the drama.

By the time the fire is extinguished three injured firemen have left the blaze for a local hospital. Only two of them will leave. One of them, an 11-year veteran of the department and father of three, will not.

That was JR Gaudet.

The Binghamton Fire Department’s official statement will call him “the kind of firefighter you could count on. At fires, he was a bull–always first in line to get inside. He would literally run through a wall for you. There was no one better to have by your side… the one to have your back no matter the situation.”

I never fought a fire with JR Gaudet, but he was a close friend for over 20 years. As a friend he had the same dedication he put into his work: he would run through a wall for you. And as a father, a husband, a teacher, and a coach… he was the same.

I first got to know JR when we were in our early twenties, both working part time at a local pizzeria. It was actually JR’s second job, as he also worked full time at a nearby hospital. (Lourdes Hospital in Binghamton, where he and I both were born.) An average day for him was to work from 7-3 at the hospital, jog a mile or so up to Nirchi’s Pizza, then work from 4-10 p.m. at the store. I’d give him a ride home, then he’d be up before seven the next day doing it all over again.

He never lost this level of work ethic, whether he was going to school, coaching lacrosse, raising his kids, saving lives as an EMT, or working an all-night shift at the firehouse. He did everything the same way, with the seemingly contradictory elements of intensity and compassion. He was tenacious, he was loyal, and he never gave up. He kind of reminded me of Rudy, but even more stylized than the movie, for in fact JR was a good athlete, not just a brave one. After playing lacrosse in 2003 and 2004 at Division I Binghamton University, he played for Division III Cortland State in 2007 and 2008. The Red Dragons were national runners-up those years; the latter D-3 championship game I got to see in Boston. I guess the story would be better if I said he was on a championship team, but somehow the second-place finish makes the story a little more human, a little more believable, and a little more JR. Rocky didn’t beat Apollo Creed the first time either.

Later there would be a Philadelphia connection, not with Rocky but with JR’s wife, Felly, who hailed from that territory as well. She was as kind and dedicated in her work (nursing) as JR, a perfect match with whom to raise their three children. They bought a house on the west side of Binghamton, my old neighborhood, and their firstborn, Charlie, attended the same elementary school I did 35 years before. It was as though they took the American Dream and my own childhood, mixed them with some old-school principles of the Greatest Generation, and produced an inspiring story that doesn’t always make highlight reels or Instagram, just helps real people in real life. What did Mr. Rogers say? Look for the helpers. Sadly the helpers aren’t always recognized until it’s too late.

But now everyone in Binghamton knows the story of JR Gaudet, and even if you didn’t know him before you could imagine his final minutes. Seeing the fire I have no doubt he volunteered to be the first man in, looking for people as those “empty” Binghamton buildings tend to have. Trying to extinguish the blaze before it destroyed the entire neighborhood (which included, by the way, the high school from which he and I both graduated), I imagine the scene became more and more intense, and there was nothing in JR that would say stop. Eventually the fire was too much, and like fighting Apollo Creed or a championship lacrosse match, the deserving underdog doesn’t always win. Real life doesn’t always have happy endings.

But there is this.

One of Felly’s coworkers set up a GoFundMe account to support her and her family. I believe the initial goal was something like $5,000. By the weekend it had over a quarter of a million. In Binghamton money that’s like a quarter of a billion. True, there’s one donation in there from a national outfit set up to help firefighters’ families, but that was only 75 grand. Most of the money has come from Binghamtonians, giving what they could from that not exactly rich community. Last I checked there were nearly 2,000 individual donations to JR’s memory, and I wouldn’t doubt that he knew and was loved by every single one of those people personally.

The outpouring of local support is a touching story, no question, but of course money can never replace a person. Sure, with enough money you could hire LeBron James to come to your house and give you a private basketball lesson; would that really be better than shooting hoops with your dad in the driveway? Give me a break. It’ll take an army to replace all the things JR did for his family and for the city. Beyond the hours at the fire station there were the rides to school, the rides to practice, packed lunches, the constant positivity to everyone around him. I’m just happy to say I got to be part of his circle, if less often in recent years. He was one of about five people in Binghamton I went out of my way to see when I visited. And I’m happy to say I did shoot hoops with him and our boys in his driveway, if a bit ineptly on the O’Connells’ part. We played video games on their couch too and that was much more our speed.

The things JR did well didn’t always end up on a stat sheet. Love and care and time and compassion can be quantified only so easily. I’m sure the BFD keeps stats on lives saved by their EMTs and I’m sure JR had his share, but did I count the number of times he washed dishes for me at the store even though it technically was the driver’s job, not the cook’s? Nope. And he didn’t keep score either. He just gave and gave and gave. To every thing and to every one, he gave his all.

And in the end, he gave all.

RIP, JR Gaudet, 1984-2025.

GoFundMe

On the subject of unexpected items, we have today’s gift from the snow day gods. That my local school district would call a snow day? Not unexpected.

That we would actually have a giant pile of snow out there?

Now that is unexpected!