|
Have you ever been called a Probee? Or Rookie? They’re both the same. Or bragged of being a fireman, your only claim to fame.
Ever returned from a run at midnight, tired, wet and cold, knowing it’s time to clean the trucks, a tradition from days of old.
Our world is full of traditions, like saying Grace at noon, a fire parade in October, in the light of a harvest moon.
Visiting children at schools, our chest pushed out with pride, letting them blow the siren, or even take a ride.
But this job’s not all glory. There’s a dark and gloomy side, of homes and memories burning, of loved ones trapped inside.
You pray you are successful in easing someone’s pain. But often things are lost, you never can regain.
When a fireman’s duty calls him from this life, and the flag that drapped his casket, is presented to his wife.
And when the bell is sounded, five by five by five, and God’s taken another hero’s name out of the book of life.
Just remember, it’s tradition! From day one you can depend, that comrades, friends and brothers, stand with you to the end!
|
