My father, Randy, was a Helena firefighter. In 1991, lymphoma — a blood cancer — took his life when he was just 33 years old. I was nine.
I grew up without the chance to know him as an adult, but I never grew up without his influence. I learned about the kind of firefighter and man he was through family stories, old photographs, and the people who had served beside him. When our family was facing one of the worst losses a family can face, firefighters, relatives, neighbors, and friends stood with us. They helped carry us forward. Their brotherhood and kindness became part of the legacy Dad left me.
Years later, I found a way to honor him by climbing the Seattle Firefighter Stairclimb. For 10 years, I’ve climbed in his memory. Each time, I’ve carried his name with me up those stairs — and thought about the families who are facing blood cancer right now.
This year means something different. On March 21, 2027, my son Anthony will climb beside me for the first time. We’re both firefighters with the East Helena Volunteer Fire Department. We share the same firehouse, the same work, and now the same climb in honor of the man who came before us.
My younger brother Ryan climbed beside me for four of those years, too. This tribute has always been bigger than one person. It’s our family remembering Dad, and the fire service community showing up for one another.
People like to call Anthony and me “The Old Man and the Young Buck.” We’ll race each other up the 69 floors of Seattle’s Columbia Center, and we’ll give each other plenty of grief along the way. But the competition is only one small part of it. This isn’t just a race. It isn’t just a charity event. To us, it’s our name. Our legacy.
Anthony never got to meet his grandfather. But this year, he’ll carry Randy’s name into the stairwell with me. I’ll get to look over and see my son climbing for the same reason I started: to honor a firefighter who fell to blood cancer, and to help families still fighting it.
This will be my 11th and final climb. Passing the torch doesn’t mean leaving Dad behind. It means carrying what he gave us — service, brotherhood, and love for our community — into the next generation.
For Dad. For Anthony. For the families still fighting.
That’s why we climb.
Brandon
Family member and supporter
