Once started, it’s difficult to stop thinking of the people who worked tirelessly trying to keep the communities of Boulder County safe at the end of this past year. The Marshall and Middle Fork fires ravaged through neighborhoods and destroyed homes. As the dust settles, we learn more of how the community came together, which helps paint even the darkest of pictures a bit brighter. Two men with ties to firefighting, one active and one not, exemplify how their call to duty made it hard to even fathom receiving praise for their deeds—it simply was in their nature as human beings. Yet, their actions are the kind that restore faith in all.
“The roots of all goodness lie in the soil of appreciation for goodness.” ~Dalai Lama
Sterling Folden started volunteering as a firefighter when he was sixteen. He currently presides as the Deputy Chief of Mountain View Fire Rescue, overseeing eight different stations and 140 staff, serving over 55,000 people. It’s safe to say that Sterling has held just about every position possible up until this point. But on the day the devastating Marshall Fire broke out, he stepped into the role of acting chief because the alternative firefighter was out of town.
Sterling was driving with little to no visibility through smoke the morning the fire struck. He made out two figures holding onto a fence in the midst of the chaos, fighting for stability in fierce 100+ mph winds.
When he picked them up in his car, he quickly learned they had been stranded there, unable to open up their garage with the electricity out. He dropped them off safely at the fire station, gave his name when they asked, and headed back out into the fire. A couple days and a few social media messages later, Sterling realized that he had saved the parents of an old classmate of his from junior high.
“I got messages from their daughter and son, both thanking me for literally saving their parents' lives. I told them they had to be more specific; a lot of people were saving people that day,” Sterling says.
He drove his car to a house relatively isolated atop a hill, wanting to make sure the family had evacuated. He saw them loading their car and said, “You gotta hurry up, you gotta go—the fire is coming!” But as he turned around, the fire quickly came up over the hill and the flames began to make contact with him and his vehicle. At that point, he realized he couldn't safely get down the driveway, so he took cover inside his car.
“After the fire passed over us, I took inventory of myself, and the inside of the car, and made sure we were still able to drive, and we were. So we did.”
The fire antiqued all the car paint—cracking and burning it. The grill and the headlights melted, and one of the back windows broke, allowing embers to fly in and burn the seats. Sterling says it felt like he was sitting in there for an hour, but at the most might have only been fifteen minutes.
He worked from 11 a.m. to 2 a.m. that day, which consisted of helping anyone he saw that needed it, and giving direction to the other teams looking to him. He spoke to his wife once, just reiterating what to take if she were to be evacuated. He was up at 4 a.m. the morning of Jan. 1, 2022, beginning the process of what he calls the “recovery period.”
“We are working now to make our systems better and stronger. What we did right, what we did wrong, where we can improve. We all have awareness now and want to be better prepared if, and when, it happens again.”
A couple months later, Sterling is processing what actually happened that day—not through the perspective of a firefighter, but just as a man.
“People say ‘thank you,’ ‘you’re a hero,' but it doesn’t feel like that. Yes, we only lost two lives in losing a thousand homes…incredible. But then I think, well, we lost a thousand homes and we lost two lives. It’s hard to focus on the good things, but I try to."
“No one was complaining about being cold, hot, hungry, tired, anything. Not one first responder, not anyone. It restores your faith in humanity. Everyone was out helping, it is just what you do," Sterling says.
Milos Linhart
The day after the fire, neighbors on South Fillmore Avenue in Louisville noticed there was a large pile of embers that were still smoldering in a nearby yard and quickly worked to put them out. As the days went on, people in the neighborhood began to realize that pile of embers could’ve been something much more.
An 80-year-old Czech Republic native, Milos Linhart missed all of the evacuation warnings because he was sleeping. But upon further discussion, neighbor Wendy Morone quickly realized that he prevented their houses from burning down by single-handedly stopping that fire in the neighbor's yard.
In early January, Milos had walked past the large burn spot, and neighbors heard him say something along the lines of "I’m sorry for the mess, I did this."
In a video later taken by Wendy, filmed while Milos was casually changing a car tire, she learned more of his story. While everyone on the street had evacuated, Milos stayed and kept watch.
He went on to explain how there was no sign of danger on the street at 6 p.m., but by 6:15 p.m. the flames in the neighbor's yard were already above his head. As an ex-firefighter, he knew what to do, what he said was his duty.
“I took my garden hose over, but I did not see any outlet. From there, I took a snow shovel and smashed it on the fire. After that, I took buckets of water and sprayed it. And I was watching this street every fifteen minutes until the fire was extinguished," Milos says.
When asked what the neighborhood could do to repay him, Milos laughs. He reiterates that it was his duty, and that he saved his own house, too. Wendy asks again what they could do for him.
“Just to be nice neighbors. That’s all. That’s all,” Milos says.
How do we thank those who aren’t looking for a thank you, who do not want any praise or recognition?
We return the favor.
In these stories and the hundreds of other stories we may never hear, we know one thing: the act of helping others comes with an immense wave of gratitude. And every good deed counts.