On January 13, 2023, the FDNY lost another beloved member due to a September 11-related illness, Donald Joseph Kelly, known as “Kelso.” He was born on December 18,1951, and raised in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. He attended Our lady of Angels Grammar School, where his mother taught, and Bishop Ford High School.

The only career path he sought was to join the FDNY. His dream came true when he was appointed to the FDNY on November 5,1977. He worked as the chauffer in Ladder 148 in Boro Park for many years and considered those firemen his family and that firehouse his home. Kelso returned for picnics, softball games, dinner dances, and Christmas parties. He was promoted to lieutenant in 1995 and worked at “probie school” before landing at Ladder 161 in Coney Island, retiring on December 22, 2022.

He spent his summers in Breezy Point with his parents, Raymond and Jane; his sister, Janice; brother, Kenan; and a myriad of cousins and friends. In Breezy Point he met his wife, Arlyn, and they had two beautiful daughters, Brianne and Caralyn. Kelso remained in Breezy until his passing, raising his family there and providing an amazing childhood for his children. Summers were spent at the beach, where he taught them to sail, swim, and fish. As proud as he was being a member of the FDNY, he was prouder of his role as husband and father.

The first word that comes to mind when thinking of Kelso is selflessness. To know him was to know the kindness that he showed everyone. The chauffer to many—not only in the FDNY—and the Google to all questions, he could get you anywhere you needed to be while teaching you something you didn’t know along the way. He drove his daughters to and from countless volleyball and swimming practices, picking them up from any party or bar late at night, no questions asked, or waiting outside concert venues, making sure they got home safe.

Kelso was larger than life. You knew any room he was in before you got there, because you could hear him talking from a mile away. He had a way of telling stories that always kept you interested, even if you already knew exactly how it ended.

The second we would arrive to our upstate house, Kelso would turn into a country man—tractor driving, wood chopping, and hunting—although we joked that the animals were safe, because he never caught one. At night, he brought us outside to teach us all about the stars.

Kelso, we will miss your kindness and your compassion, your stories, and the occasional ear to listen on the rare occasion that you weren’t speaking. We will miss long drives upstate with you and all the adventures.