He is the guy next door . A mans 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 unfilled 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 least fortunate of men. He is a man who saves lives because he's seen to much death . He is a gentle man because he has seen the awsome power of violence out of control. He is responsive to a childs laughterbecause his arms have held to 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 bones or muscles compelled beyond feeling - the camaradie 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 obscentities. When he marches , it is in honor of a fallen comrade. He doesn't preach the brotherhood of a man he lives it. HE is a fireman