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The year was 2012, I was teaching an Emergency Medical Technician (EMT) class in Harrisburg, Nebraska at the Banner County High School. On the first night of class, a big guy walked in. He was well dressed, in a button up shirt and soft spoken. He introduced himself with a firm handshake and a look in my eyes. “Hello, my name is Lyle Huffman, I am here to become an EMT.”
Lyle was one of those men you immediately felt comfortable with. A man who would stop to help beside the road, change a tire or give you a ride to the nearest town. Lyle always claimed to not be the smartest person in the room, he would often say “I’m a farmer, who wants to help if I can.” I realized quickly that Lyle was one of the smartest men I had ever met, not for his academic accomplishments but for his ability to be a humble human, who treated every person with dignity and respect.
Over the next several years, Lyle and I became friends and I continued to admire Lyle for his personality. Lyle was a full-time farmer but had the best attitude and intention to perform the role of an EMT. Lyle taught me that even if you are proficient in every emergency skill you must first be a human, with a caring spirit, for the people around you.
I was not raised in a significantly religious household. After being a first responder for over 20 years, I without a doubt, have some questions for the big man upstairs. I know things happen for a reason, but the level of tragedy I have seen is beyond imagination. However, I would not change it for the world. I love being a first responder and I cannot picture doing anything else.
Lyle helped me through some tough years as we had some powerful talks, while he was tending to his land, and I was out enjoying the outdoors.
It was a cool fall morning; I had just walked into work. As we prepped our aircraft and gear for shift, launch tones alerted us to a rollover, only a few miles from Lyle’s house. I always enjoyed flights to Banner County because I more than likely would get to see Lyle or Tanner (another good friend). I knew this early in the morning, Lyle would be out completing his morning routine, so there was a high likelihood he would be on scene first. The flight was a quick one.
The sun was beautiful as it was rising over the eastern horizon. Within ten minutes, the pilot was circling high above the scene, as my partner and I began the pre-arrival checklist. While looking down at the scene, it appeared the patient had been ejected in a high-speed rollover and was positioned in the center median of the road. With the sun peaking over the horizon, it made small shadows stretch out many feet across the ground. Beside the patient was a man, a big guy, in Carhart coveralls and a heavy coat, with medical gloves on, tending to the injured man. It was my buddy Lyle, caring for the injured man on the ground.
He would always greet me with a smile on scene as we never had much time for small talk. We would then lift for the trauma center, and I knew that only minutes after take-off, my phone would buzz in my pocket with a text from Lyle, “Good to see you, be safe.”
After Lyle lost his battle with West Nile Virus, I was thinking about his spirit and presence in people’s lives. I closed my eyes and pictured that morning sun shining on Lyle, beside the injured patient. I thought about the presence of Lyle and the extended shadow from the sun’s angle representing his spirit. Larger than life, prominent and exposed to help the world around him. I obviously do not know what God looks like, but after growing up in rural America, I know I would be comfortable with a big guy, soft spoken, humble, wearing Carhart coveralls there to care and comfort me in my darkest hour. For this reason, I started the Lyle B. Huffman Memorial Scholarship to encourage the next generation to serve like Lyle and keep his memory alive."
