Some thoughts on my dad and his career as a firefighter
My father used to run into burning buildings for a living.
He was not a lot older than I am now when he retired.
By the end of his career?
His nerves where completely shot and he couldn’t look up.
When he worked?
His crew was always first on scene.
Not because he was fast.
But because if something was on fire or people were trapped in a car, the fire would have to be put out or, the car would have to be cut open before anyone else could work.
My father saved lives. He saved lives of children.
When the local Society For the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals caught fire?
My dad saved cats.
(he wasn’t a dog person, he let Bernie take care of that)
My dad even made the newspaper when he was just 28!
Someone growing weed in their flat caught fire
This was in the 70’s
People were then, as we are now, remarkably strange.
My father saved giant boa constrictor.
I was proud to be the son of a firefighter.
Every now and then though?
The shadow of that job emerged.
Over the last few years he has softened.
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