He's the guy next door.

He's the man's man with the sharp memory
of a little boy who never got over the
excitement of engines and sirens and smoke and danger.

He's a guy like you and me with warts
and worries and unfulfilled dreams.

Yet he stands taller then 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 fortunate
and the least fortunate of men.

He's a man who savors life because he has see too much death.
He's a gentle man because he has seen too much of the
awesome power of violent forces out of control.
He's a man responsive to a childs' laughter because his arms
have held too many small bodies that will never laugh again.

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 smoke and fire convulsed lungs...
a warm bed for bone and muscle compelled beyond feeling...
the comraderie of brave men and women.. the devine peace of
selfless service and a job well done in the name of all men.

He doesn't wear buttons or wave flags or shout obscenities
and when he marches, its to honor a fallen comrade.

He doesn't preach the brotherhood of man...

HE LIVES IT!!!



This was hanging in our station. I do not know who wrote it or where it came from. But it has alot of truthful meaning.. Hope you all enjoy..