[Congressional Record Volume 156, Number 118 (Thursday, August 5, 2010)]
[Senate]
[Pages S6873-S6875]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                         TRIBUTE TO MICHEL BAIK

 Mr. DODD. Mr. President, it is with a heavy heart that today I 
pay tribute to fire fighter Michel Baik, who sadly lost his life on 
July 24, 2010.
  A lifelong resident of Bridgeport, Michel graduated from Central High 
School, where he played football. Throughout his life, he remained 
engaged in sports playing softball and basketball and was also an 
active member of the St. Nicholas Antiochian Orthodox Church 
congregation.
  He was well known as a loving husband and father who was very engaged 
in the lives of his children, Andrew, Thomas, and Margaret. He coached 
Junior Varsity basketball, volunteered with the Boy Scouts, and was a 
constant presence at their various school plays, sports events, and 
dance recitals.
  For many years, Michel worked for companies like Norelco and Alcon 
Data, as well as at the Connecticut Post newspaper as distribution 
manager. He also helped teach computer skills to the unemployed as an 
instructor at a nonprofit workforce development organization called 
Career Resources.
  Then, in 2007, he decided to take on a new challenge. He trained 
hard, studied hard, and ultimately became--at the age of 47--the oldest 
``probey,'' or rookie, member of the Bridgeport Fire Department. It was 
a job he loved, and he

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was proud to have been able to serve his community as a member of the 
department and the Ladder 11 team.
  When a person becomes a firefighter, they are not simply taking a 
job; they are following a calling.
  We have all felt our chests tighten and our pulses quicken with 
anxiety at the sound of a fire engine screaming through town. For most 
of us, this signals two important things: There is an emergency 
somewhere nearby, and--more importantly--that help is on the way.
  Of course, for the people riding on those rigs, all the commotion is 
just another day at the office. They are focused solely on the task at 
hand.
  When the unthinkable happens--a devastating hurricane, industrial 
accident, terrorist attack, or three-alarm fire--these brave men and 
women are the first on the scene and the last to leave. In between, 
they give all they have to make sure the emergency is contained and our 
communities are safe.
  For Michel Baik and firefighters all over our Nation, the call to 
serve means facing danger every day. The commotion of an emergency 
becomes secondary to the need to help people, and the dangers they 
personally face must take a backseat to the task at hand.
  That was the case on the afternoon of July 24, 2010, when Michel and 
his colleague, fire lieutenant Steven Velasquez, were conducting a 
search-and-rescue mission on the third floor of a burning house in 
Bridgeport. They were deepest into the blaze, looking for people in 
need of assistance and trying to ventilate the structure. None of the 
inhabitants of the home were injured. But tragically, both of these 
courageous men lost their lives, despite the quick action of their 
colleagues to pull them out of danger and get them to the hospital.
  Tragedies are inherent in this profession, and the risks are shared 
by every single person who has ever gotten the call, rushed to their 
gear, and has run headlong into danger in order to save the life of 
someone else. These shared risks help to bind those called to take them 
together in a solemn way.
  Firefighters will do anything for one another, both on the job and 
when the worst happens. The more than 7,000 of their fellow 
firefighters--from as far away as western Canada--who attended the 
memorial services for Fire Fighter Baik and Lieutenant Velasquez were 
an impressive testament to that bond.
  I believe that the eulogy offered in tribute to Michel Baik by 
International Association of Fire Fighters president Harold 
Schaitberger at his memorial service speaks well of this solemn 
commitment. Through these difficult times, the community which Michel 
served, and those he served with, can provide support and comfort to 
his loved ones, and I will ask that President Schaitberger's words be 
printed in the Record.
  Of course, no tribute will ever be enough to ease the suffering of 
their families. I offer my deepest condolences to Mich's wife Laurie, 
his children, and his entire family. Their sacrifice is unimaginable, 
and they will always be in our thoughts and prayers.
  I know that we can never make this right for them. But we must 
celebrate the life and service of Firefighter Michel Baik and make sure 
that his memory--as a role model and true hero--lives on and helps to 
inspire others to take up the call to serve.
  I ask that President Schaitberge's words to which I referred be 
printed in the Record.
  The information follows:

               International Association of Fire Fighters

                     President Harold Schaitberger

  Eulogy for Fire Fighter Michel Baik, Bridgeport Local 834, July 30, 
                                  2010

       To Fire Fighter Michel Baik's mother Mary, to his wife 
     Laurie, to his children Andrew, Thomas and Margaret, and to 
     his sister Rania--thank you for allowing me the honor of 
     taking part in this beautiful service to commemorate Mitch's 
     life, his service, and his sacrifice.
       To Mitch's family, to his friends, to his brothers and 
     sisters in the Bridgeport Fire Department and Local 834, and 
     to his extended fire fighter family, I stand before you like 
     the man we honor today, a servant unto God, to offer the 
     thoughts and prayers on behalf of our General Secretary 
     Treasurer, our Executive Board, and the 298,000 fire fighters 
     we represent across two great nations.
       These are the times that words are a poor substitute as we 
     try to make sense of such a profound loss and provide comfort 
     to each other in this time of great sadness. I know words can 
     do little to heal the heart-wrenching pain that we all feel. 
     But I also know that I--and that all of Mitch's brothers and 
     sisters in the fire service who traveled from across two 
     nations to be here--want you, Mitch's family, to see and feel 
     the love and the sorrow that each and every brother and 
     sister in the fire service family feels today.
       These emotions are as strong and as heart-felt as anything 
     I can say. They are as genuine as anything I've written on 
     these pieces of paper in my hand.
       I want you to know that all of us have come here today to 
     put our collective arms around you. Many of us are gathering 
     for a second time today. We also paid tribute to Lieutenant 
     Steven Velasquez.
       Sadly, we are back together again and it's no easier the 
     second time to say goodbye to one of our own.
       Many outside of our ranks will refer to Mitch and Steven as 
     heroes. But they didn't set out to be heroes and they didn't 
     think of themselves that way. No, if they were here they 
     would simply tell you they were just doing their jobs.
       I did not have the honor of knowing Mitch personally, but I 
     do know who he was. I do know that like many who came before 
     him Mitch was drawn to ``The Job'' like countless young men 
     and women who follow their childhood dreams--who experience 
     the calling to service to become fire fighters. But for much 
     of his life Mitch pursued other dreams, and at age 47--two 
     years ago--he answered the calling.
       He entered this close knit profession like so many of his 
     brothers and sisters in dress blues who surround us now, with 
     a humble confidence, eager to put in the hours with no 
     expectation or desire for public recognition.
       He summoned the quiet courage that resides in all who come 
     to this work, and he decided he could do it. He was 
     determined--not only that he wanted to do it--but that he 
     needed to do it. And at age 47 he realized a life-long dream, 
     and he joined us on ``The Job.''
       Mitch was so excited and so proud when he became a fire 
     fighter. He held up his badge to show his kids what Dad had 
     done. He was Local 834's oldest probey.
       Though he was a rookie, Mitch approached the job like the 
     man he was--accustomed to hard work and long hours and eager 
     to sacrifice for his family and his community.
       The journey he took to get on the job is remarkable.
       Sadly, it takes a tragedy like this to remind us just how 
     fragile life can be and how our own journeys can end all too 
     quickly.
       Sadly, too often it takes a tragedy for a community and its 
     citizens to recognize the courage, dedication, commitment, 
     sacrifice, and service that people like Mitch make day in and 
     day out.
       And sadly, it takes a tragedy for the rest of the world to 
     see the sacrifice that their families make.
       So today as we pay our respects to Mitch we also pay our 
     respects to his family--for giving more than you should ever 
     be asked to give. And we pay our respects to you for the 
     sacrifice you have made.
       Remembering and honoring our fallen is the most solemn, 
     most revered tradition in the fire service.
       Every year across the United States and Canada a hundred or 
     more fire fighters make the ultimate sacrifice. And when one 
     of our brothers or sisters falls, the fire service family 
     comes together.
       We come together no matter how near or how far to make it 
     clear to you--Mitch's family--that our hearts ache.
       We want you to know that his brothers and sisters in the 
     fire service loved him--but we understand that you loved him 
     more.
       We want you to know that we will miss him tremendously--but 
     we know you will miss him more.
       We have gathered to embrace you and let you know that your 
     extended family is here, standing with you--and we're not 
     going away.
       For almost a century we've come together in times of loss 
     to show the love and respect we have for our family and to 
     stand strong for our IAFF brothers and sisters, including 
     here in Bridgeport.
       We use the tradition-bound symbols of our profession--the 
     men and women in their crisp dress blues, the bagpipers and 
     drummers who play their mournful songs, the Honor Guard 
     standing at attention--to salute those we have lost. And then 
     the ring of the Bell sends them home.
       This is how we cope.
       This is how we mourn.
       This is also how we salute YOU.
       From all of us in this great union--this brother and 
     sisterhood called the IAFF--we want you to know that your 
     loved one may be gone--but he will never be forgotten.
       Mitch's name will remain, forever etched in the granite 
     walls of our Fallen Fire Fighters Memorial in Colorado 
     Springs.
       We do that to show that he left an indelible mark on our 
     lives, that he will forever be a part of our fire fighter 
     family--and so will all of you.
       Thank you Brother Baik for the gift of your life.
       May you rest in peace. God bless you and may God bless the 
     fire fighters on the front lines everywhere.

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