Don't bee afraid to thank the 'silent heroes' all around us

Doug Deaton looked embarrassed.

He didn't seem to know whether to study his shoes or gaze at the ceiling of the firehouse as he joined a self-conscious semi circle of firefighters who were being honored Friday afternoon in a low-key ceremony at Norfolk's Fire Station 16.

Glancing at the crisp letter of commendation in his hand, the paramedic turned to the petite blond woman standing a few feet away.

"I was utterly amazed by how grateful you were," Dea-ton said, smiling shyly. "We do this every day.... It's rare for someone to do what you did."

Well, Mr. Deaton, you didn't know it at the time, but the life you saved back in February was that of Miss Connie of "Romper Room" fame. The former host of this hugely popular 1960s and '70s children's TV show was not about to let you go unrecognized.

Your heroics made you a giant "Do Bee."

Once Connie Hindmarsh recovered from her heart attack, she baked cupcakes for the firehouse and fired off a letter to Mayor Paul Fraim asking him give an award to the nameless men from the Camellia fire station.

"I am alive today due to the expertise of three Norfolk firemen and one devoted English bulldog," she began.

It was around 7 on the morning of Feb. 12 and Hindmarsh had already been up for more than an hour. She felt uncharacteristically winded as she walked through her brick ranch in Norfolk's East Lynn neighborhood.

Minutes later, she found herself in the kitchen, unable to breathe or call for help.

Falling to her knees, she began gasping for air. That was enough to rouse Uga, the Hindmarshes' lumbering English bulldog. He took one look at his normally vivacious owner and started making strange, high-pitched noises.

"He was barking in a panicked mode," Bert Hindmarsh recalled.

Alarmed, the former William and Mary football player raced to the kitchen and found his wife of 50 years on the floor. He dialed 911, and moments later, the ambulance arrived.

Stabilizing a patient whose heart is racing at 300 beats per minute may be routine to rescue workers, but it was a terrifying experience for Connie Hindmarsh.

"I thought I was going to die," she told me.

She told the rescue workers the same thing, but they assured her she'd be all right.

None of the men who worked on Hindmarsh or drove her to the hospital - Dea-ton, Eric Shafer, Floyd Sykes or James Sindlinger - knew that their patient had once been a familiar face to local children.

But the m ayor knows all about Connie Hindmarsh.

"It's really nice of Connie to go out of her way to thank these guys," Paul Fraim said, noting that laudatory letters such as hers are a rarity. "It's very unusual.... Of course, it never dawns on the fire and rescue guys that people owe them a thank you.

"They're silent heroes."

They are, indeed. But as anyone who grew up with Miss Connie will tell you, saying, "Thank you" was one of the "Romper Room" rules.

Remember what this TV personality used to call children who forgot their manners?

Don't Bees.

News researcher Maureen Watts contributed to this column.

Kerry Dougherty, (757) 446-2306, kerry.dougherty@cox.net