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Firefighters Gloves

A Firefighters Gloves hold many things
From elderly arms to a kids broken swing
From the hands they shake and the backs they pat
To the tiny claw marks of another treed cat
At 2 am they are filled with chrome
From the DWI who was on her way home
And the equipment they use to roll back the dash
From the family of 6 she involved in the crash


The brush rakes in spring, wear the palms out
When the wind does a “90” to fill them with doubt
The thumb of the glove wipes the sweat from the brow
Of the face of a firefighter who mutters “What now?”


They hold inch and three quarters flowing one twenty five
So the ones going in, come back out alive
When the regulator goes; then there isn’t too much,
But the bypass valve the eagerly clutch


The rescue equipment, the ropes, the C-collars;
The lives they saved never measured in dollars
Are the obvious things firefighters gloves hold
Or, so that is what I’ve been always told


But there are other things Firefighters Gloves touch
Those are the things we all need so much


The hold back the rage on that 3 am call
They hold in the fear when you’re lost in a hall
They hold back the pity, agony, sorrow
They hold in the desire to “Do it tomorrow”


A glove is just a glove till it’s on firefighters
Who work all day long just to pull an all-nighter
And into the fray they charge without fear
At the sound of a “Help” they think that they hear


When firefighter’s hands go into the glove
It’s a firefighter who always fills it with love
Sometimes the sorrow is too much to bear
And it seeps the glove and burns deep “in there”


Off come the gloves when the call is done
And into the pocket until the next call
The hands become lonely and cold for a bit
And shake just thinking of it

And they sit there so red eyed with their gloves in their coats
The tears come so fast that the furniture floats
They’re not so brave now; their hands they cant hide
I guess it just means they are human inside


And though some are paid are others are not
The gloves feel the same when it’s cold or it’s hot
To someone you’re helping to just get along
When you fill them with love, you always feel strong


And so when I go on my final big ride
I hope to have my gloves by my side
To show to St. Peter at the heavenly gate
Cause as everyone knows, firefighters don’t wait.

Creation of the Firefighter

Author Unknown

When the Lord was creating firefighters, he was into his sixth day of overtime when an angel appeared and said, "You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one."

And the Lord said, "Have you read the specification on this person? Firefighters have to be able to go for hours fighting fires or tending to a person that the usual everyday person would never touch, while putting in the back of their minds the circumstances. They have to be able to move at a second's notice and not think twice of what they are about to do, no matter what danger. They have to be in top physical condition at all times, running on half-eaten meals, and they must have six pairs of hands."

The angel shook her head slowly and said, "Six pairs of hands...no way."

"It's not their hands that are causing me problems," said the Lord, "it's the three pairs of eyes a firefighter has to have."

"That's on the standard mode?" asked the angel.

The Lord nodded. "One pair to see through the fire and where they and their fellow firefighters should fight the fire next. Another pair here in the side of the head to see their fellow firefighters and keep them safe. And another pair of eyes in the front so that they can look for the victims caught in the fire who need their help."

"Lord," said the angel, touching his sleeve, "rest and work on this tomorrow."

"I can't," said the Lord, "I already have a model that can carry a 250-pound man down a flight of stairs to safety from a burning building, and can feed a family of five on a civil service paycheck."

The angel circled the model of the firefighter very slowly, "Can it think?"

"You bet," said the Lord. "They can tell you the elements of a hundred fires and can recite procedures in their sleep that are needed to care for a person until they reach the hospital. And all the while they have to keep their wits about the. Fire fighters also have phenomenal personal control. They can deal with a scene full of pain and hurt, coaxing a child's mother into letting go of the child so that they can care for the child in need. And still they rarely get the recognition for a job well done from anybody, other than from fellow firefighters."

Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek of the firefighter, "There's a leak," she pronounced. "Lord, it's a tear. What's the tear for?"


"It's a tear from bottled-up emotions for fallen comrades. A tear for commitment to that funny piece of cloth called the American flag. It's a tear for all the pain and suffering they have encountered. And it's a tear for their commitment to caring for and saving lives of their fellow man!"

"What a wonder feature. Lord, you're a genius," said the angel.

The Lord looked somber and said, "I didn't put it there."
TO ALL THAT SERVE...

The firefighter stood and faced his God, which must always come to pass
He hoped his shoes were shining, just as brightly as his brass.

"Step forward now, you firefighter, how shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek? To my church have you been true?

The firefighter squared his shoulders and said, "No, Lord, I guess I ain't
Because those of us who fight fire can't always be a saint.

I've had to work most Sundays, and at times my talk was tough,
And sometimes I've been violent, because the streets are awful tough

But, I never took a penny that wasn't mine to keep...
Though I worked a lot of overtime when the bills got just to steep,

And I never passed a cry for help, though at times I shook with fear,
And sometimes, God forgive me, I've wept unmanly tears.

I know I don't deserve a place among the people here,
They never wanted me around except to calm their fears.

If you've a place for me here, Lord, it needn't be so grand,
I never expected or had too much, but if you don't I'll understand."

There was a silence all around the throne where the saints had often trod
As the firefighter waited quietly for the judgment of his God,

"Step forward now you firefighter, you've borne your burdens well,
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets, You've done your time in Hell."

TRADITIONS

Have you ever been called a Probee?
Or Rookie? They're both the same.
Or bragged about being a fireman,
your only claim to fame.

Ever returned from a run at midnight,
tired and 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 draped 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.




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