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Heís the guy next door - a manís man with the memory of a little boy. gotten over the excitement of engines and sirens and danger. Heís a guy like you and me with warts and worries and unfulfilled dreams.
Yet he stands taller than most of us.
Heís 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. Heís a man who saves lives because he has seen too much death.
Heís a gentle man because he has seen the awesome power of violence out of control. Heís responsive to a childís laughter because his arms have held too many small bodies that will never laugh again.
Heís 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 doesnít wear buttons or wave flags or shout obscenities. When he marches, it is to honor a fallen comrade. He doesnít preach the brotherhood of man. He lives it.

Author unknown