He’s a guy like you and me with warts and worries and
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
He’s a man who saves lives because he has seen too much death.
He’s a gentle man because he has seen the awesome power
He is responsive to a child’s 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 numb, unbending fingers, a warm bed for bone and muscle compelled beyond feeling—the comaraderie 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 does not preach the brotherhood of man.
He lives it.