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He is the guy next door, a man's man with the memory of a little boy. He has never gotten over the excitement of engines and sirens and danger. He is a guy like you and me with wants and worries and unfulfilled dreams. Yet he stands taller than most of us. He Is A Fireman. He puts it all on the line when the bell rings. A Fireman is at once the most fortunate and the least fortunate of men. He is a man who saves lives because he has seen too much death. He is a gentle man because he has seen the awesome power of violence out of control. He is responsive to a child's laughter because his arms have held too many small bodies that will never laugh again. He is a man who appreciates the simple pleasures of life, hot coffee held in numb, unbending fingers, a warm bed for bone and muscle compelled beyond feeling, the camaraderie of brave men, the divine peace and selfless service of a job well done in the name of all men. He doesn't wear buttons or wave flags or shout obscenities. When he marches it is to honor a fallen comrade. He doesn't preach the brotherhood of man. He Lives It.    |
