07/31/2026
Thirty-six years.
On January 3, 1990, I walked into the fire service as a volunteer. If I was lucky, I made a dollar a run. I didn’t know then that I had just found the career that would shape the rest of my life.
I decided early on that I never wanted to stay where I was. I wanted to be better than I had been yesterday. So I earned my Firefighter Level I and II, EMT-Intermediate, Fire Safety Inspector, Fire Instructor, EMS Instructor, Live Fire Instructor, Fire Officer certifications, and everything else I could to become the best firefighter and leader I was capable of being.
Along the way I promoted from Lieutenant to Captain, Deputy Chief, and eventually Fire Chief.
What I didn’t realize when I was young and probably a little too dumb to know better was that every bugle you add to your collar also adds another headache, another responsibility, and another person depending on you to make the right decision.
Over these 36 years, I’ve had the privilege of working with some of the greatest firefighters and chiefs anyone could ever ask for.
Chief Danny Heffner from Pleasant Township Fire taught me how to fight fire. He was the kind of chief who could take you into the hottest fire and somehow bring everyone back out without a scratch.
Chief Mike Ludwick probably changed my career more than anyone. He saw something in me before I saw it in myself. He taught me to quit being an as***le, to see the bigger picture, and to understand that leadership isn’t just about the fireground—it’s about people. He introduced me to the administrative side of the fire service and showed me how decisions affect everyone, not just what’s standing right in front of you.
Later in my career, Chief Scott Skeldon became another mentor. He showed me that the world was much bigger than the place I happened to be standing. He challenged me to think beyond my own department and become a better leader.
Without those three men, I wouldn’t be where I am today.
But this post really isn’t about me.
One thing the fire service has taught me is that your people make you who you are. They determine whether you’re a good chief or a bad one.
Throughout my career at Pleasant Township Fire, Moorefield Township, Mechanicsburg Fire Department, the City of New Carlisle, Bethel Township in Clark County, and now Central Townships Joint Fire District, I have worked alongside some incredible people.
Some weren’t the greatest firefighters in the world.
But they were some of the greatest people I’ve ever known.
They taught me passion. Compassion. Empathy. Humility. They reminded me that I wasn’t the center of the universe.
When I was young, I had a hard time understanding that.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that the people around me are what make this job worthwhile. They make the hard days easier, the victories sweeter, and the losses bearable.
Today I was cleaning out my garage and came across a handful of old pictures. They aren’t a complete history of my career—just snapshots that happened to surface today.
One picture was from an extrication class in Norwalk. Looking at those young faces made me smile. Today, those same people have become a registered nurse, a paramedic, a sheriff’s deputy, two Columbus firefighters, and a Mason. We were just kids trying to learn how to do the job better, and now they’ve all built careers they should be proud of.
Another picture shows a much younger guy wearing a chief’s helmet.
He had no idea that accepting a position with Central Townships Joint Fire District would become one of the best decisions of his life.
Leaving behind good friends and some of the best coworkers I’d ever had wasn’t easy, but this department has helped me grow into a better fire chief, a better firefighter, a better husband, a better father, and hopefully, a better man.
The older I get, the more I appreciate the journey.
I read a quote recently that really hit home:
“One day you’ll sit at the kitchen table and realize that all the mentors and old guys who taught you this job are gone… and now you’re the old guy. It’s your turn to become the mentor.”
That one stuck with me.
Today is July 31, 2026. Thirty-six years have come and gone faster than I ever imagined.
I don’t know how many years I have left in this profession, but I do know this: I hope that when I finally hang up my helmet, the people I’ve had the privilege of serving with remember me not for my rank or the bugles on my collar, but as a good fire chief, a good firefighter, and most importantly…
…a good friend.
Thank you to everyone who has been part of this incredible journey.
Chief Brian S. Bennington
