I remember my first fire call as if it were
yesterday. I was sitting at home when the
pagers went off for a structure fire near the
center of town. I got into my car and flew to
the station, eager to be on the first-out truck
and next to a hero. God, to be a firefighter,
what a dream come true!
As a child watching firefighters on TV shows,
I could only dream of the day when I, too,
would become a Hero. Who were the Heroes?
The people who made a difference-and they
were the firefighters. Firefighters, in their big
red trucks and bright yellow gear-they were the
men and women I respected.
As my Days in the department grew into years,
my Heroes changed. Their gear was no longer
bright, and being the first one their didn't mean
very much anymore. Instead, my Heroes were
seldom seen at a fire and appeared only on
meeting night to complain and vote. And they
are the people I wanted so much to be like?
Where were the heroes?
I came to realize that over the years that I, too,
had fallen into this routine. I had failed as a
Hero. Then a Rookie came along. Yes the
Rookie we laugh about, the Rookie we love
to tease. But this Rookie came with the same
spirit I once had, Wanting only to be a hero.
I realized he already was a Hero, with a sense
of pride and the true dedication to show up
for even the smallest of fires, no matter what
he was doing.
I found myself not wanting to be a Hero
anymore but wanting to be a Rookie again.
