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Hes 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.
Hes a guy like you and me with warts and worries and unfulfilled dreams. Yet he stands taller than most of us.
Hes 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.
Hes a man who saves lives because he has seen too much death.
Hes a gentle man because he has seen the awesome power of violence out of control.
Hes responsive to a childs laughter because his arms have held too many small bodies that will never laugh again.
Hes 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 doesnt wear buttons or wave flags or shout obscenities.
When he marches, it is to honor a fallen comrade.
He doesnt preach the brotherhood of man.
He lives it.
7:44 AM
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