A Tribute to Ken Easton

By Terry and Diane Szlucha —

The crisp autumn air carried a hint of wood smoke, a scent that always reminded me of Ken. Ken Easton, former Owego Fire Chief, my friend, a man whose presence was as comforting and reliable as the steady glow of a fire on a cold night. Now, the air felt different, thinner, tinged with a sadness that mirrored the ache in my heart. Ken was gone.

I remember the first time I met him. I was a nervous volunteer, fumbling with a hose during a training exercise. He didn’t laugh, didn’t criticize. Instead, he placed a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm but gentle, and showed me, patiently, how to handle the equipment.

“It’s not about being perfect,” he’d said, his eyes twinkling, “it’s about being ready.”

That was Ken in a nutshell. Always ready. Ready to lead, ready to teach, ready to lend a hand, a shoulder, or a kind word. He wasn’t just a fire chief; he was the heart of the department, the glue that held us all together. He knew everyone’s name, their families, their struggles. He remembered birthdays, anniversaries, and always asked about your kids’ baseball games. He had a knack for making everyone feel seen and valued, a rare quality that made him so beloved.

He’d seen his share of tragedy, of course. Fires that roared, lives lost, families shattered. But even in the face of such devastation, he remained a beacon of strength and hope. He knew how to rally his team, how to offer comfort to those who had lost everything. He understood the weight of responsibility, the burden of leadership, but he carried it with grace and unwavering dedication. He possessed a quiet strength, a resilience that inspired us all. He never shied away from the difficult tasks, always putting the needs of others before his own.

The stories about Ken were legendary. The time he rescued a cat from a burning building, the Christmas Eve he spent delivering toys to families affected by a house fire, the countless hours he dedicated to training and mentoring young firefighters. He never sought recognition, never boasted about his accomplishments. His reward was the satisfaction of knowing he’d made a difference, that he’d helped to make Owego a safer, stronger community. He was a true public servant, dedicated to the well-being of his neighbors. He instilled in us the importance of teamwork, of looking out for each other, both on and off the fireground.

The firehouse felt empty without him. His chair in the corner of the common room, where he’d often sit with a cup of coffee, sharing stories and laughter, was vacant. The silence was deafening. The absence of his booming laugh and easygoing banter hung heavy in the air. It was a stark reminder of the void he had left behind. Even the smell of coffee seemed less potent, lacking the familiar aroma of his pipe tobacco that always lingered around him.

But even in our grief, we knew that Ken’s spirit lived on. It lived on in the firefighters he’d trained, in the lives he’d touched, in the memories we all shared. He’d taught us the true meaning of service, of courage, of compassion. He’d shown us how to be ready, not just for fires, but for life. His influence permeated the department, shaping the way we approached our duties and interacted with each other. He taught us the importance of community, of giving back, of being there for our neighbors in their time of need.

The last time I saw him, he was weak, his body worn down by years of service. But his eyes still held that familiar twinkle. He took my hand, his grip still firm, and said, “Keep the fires burning, kid.”

It was a simple phrase, but it carried a profound weight of meaning. It was a charge, a call to action, a reminder of the values he instilled in us. It was a passing of the torch, a request to carry on his legacy.

And we will, Ken. We will. We’ll keep the fires of your memory burning bright, a testament to the man you were, the leader you were, the friend you were. You will be missed, more than words can say. But your legacy will live on, a flame that will never be extinguished. We will honor your memory by continuing to serve our community with the same dedication and compassion that you exemplified. We will strive to be the kind of firefighters, and the kind of people, that you would be proud of. We will keep the fires burning, not just the physical fires, but the fires of your spirit, your passion, and your unwavering commitment to serving others.