He's a man with the sharp memory of a little boy who never got over the excitement of engines, sirens, smoke & danger.
He's a guy like you & me with warts & worries and unfulfilled dreams.
Yet he stands taller than most of us. He's a FIREMAN. He puts it all on the line when the bell rings.
A Fireman is at once the most & least fortunate of men.
He savors life because he has seen to much death. He's a gentleman. He has seen to much of the awesome power of violent forces out of control. He's a man receptive to a child's cry, because he has seen a child's pain and held a limp little body, that will never cry or laugh in his arms. He's a man who appreciates the simple pleasures of life ..... hot coffee held in numbed, unbending fingers ..... the flush of fresh air pumping through fire & smoke convulsed lungs ..... A warm bed for bone & muscle compelled beyond feeling ...... The camaraderie of brave men, the divine peace of selfless service and a job well done in the name of all man. He doesn't wear buttons or wave flags or shout obscenities and when he marches, it is to honour a fallen comrade.
He doesn't preach the brotherhood of man,
HE LIVES IT