June 09, 2011 11:58 PM UTC

In Praise of Firefighters

• 3 Comments
• by: nancycronk

Despite the distraction of Weinergate,  Denver Mayoral rumours, and the lure of the penalty box parties calling me back, I’ve been watching the news about the enormous wildfire in Arizona. As of yesterday afternoon, the inferno was zero percent contained and almost 400,000 acres, an area larger than the city of Phoenix. The weather forecast said “hot, windy, and dry” — exactly the recipe for rapid spreading. The fires are now threatening to affect the entire west, as key powerlines may be in danger. Arizona’s Governor Jan Brewer (who is not normally the sharpest spine on the proverbial cactus, IMHO) wisely declared an emergency. Firefighters and apparatus from other states have been sent to help out our neighbors to the southwest.

I was fortunate to have delivered a thank-you speech to my favorite metro-area firefighters, paramedics and EMTs not long ago, at their annual awards night. (I won’t name the district  since they may not agree with my political views on the blogs). I’d like to extend what I said to all of the safety personnel in the Pols readership. I hope my fellow Pols clowns will join me in thanking these heroes.

The following has been edited to protect the identity of the fire department, for whom I am not a spokeperson, but merely a cheerleader. (Thanks for not outing them.)

Godspeed to those of you who will be heading down to Arizona, or who are there already. This community loves you, appreciates you, and is praying for your safety.  

To My Heroes

I asked the Chief if I could speak on behalf of our community — the people you wake up every day to educate, to protect, to rescue, to reassure, to heal, to transport and to care about, day in and day out, twenty-four hours a day, three hundred and sixty-five days a year, year after year after year. Whether you risk your own life to put out fires, or perform CPR, start IV’s, educate children, inspect new buildings, teach new hires, manage the district’s money, answer the phones, cook the food, drive the trucks, go to meetings, plan the trainings, service the equipment, program the computers, represent your union brothers and sisters, or fill any one of a number of other  pieces of this puzzle, you are an important part of a great team.

A team that includes people brave enough, you are willing to go against your every instinct for self-preservation, and instead, when your body is telling you not to, know you must be the ones to battle every blaze head-on, as if the lives of your own family depended on your swift action. A team so dedicated, you show up to work on Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the birthdays of your loved ones. A team so well-trained, you are always ready to do what is needed or asked of you, whether that is on land or in the water, on the ground, or three hundred feet up, whether it involves toxic chemicals or natural disasters, brush fires or overdoses. There is no scenario that seems to daunt you.

There is a reason most little boys, and some girls, go through a stage when they want to be a firefighter when they grow up. Everyone wants to be a hero at some point. The comedian Lily Tomlin once said, “It’s a good thing not everyone becomes what they wanted to be when they were little, or the world would have nothing but firefighters and ballerinas in it.” But not every person can be a firefighter, or a paramedic, or a public servant who runs a fire district. It takes people committed to their communities, committed to the well-being of others, committed to working long hours for nowhere near enough pay (in my humble opinion), committed to a higher calling of public service. It takes people like you. Like all of you.

I remember when I heard my brother-in-law, a member of one of the largest volunteer departments in the country, and my nephew, a firefighter in the Navy, first announced they were joining the fire service. My first thought was, “Are you out of your ever-loving mind? Why on Earth would you want to do something so dangerous?” Perhaps some of the spouses and family members in this room can relate. It didn’t take long to see their passion for caring for other people. Like many of your relatives, I could not be more proud.

When the awards committee met last month to determine who would get the awards for the previous year, 2010, we read all of the survey responses, and the nominations. As you know, the awards are not decided by the Fire Chief, or by the senior staff, or by the Board. Nominations are made by all employees of this District, an effort for peers to acknowledge and show appreciation for the outstanding efforts of their coworkers. I wish you all could have been in the room to hear the discussion.

We read about employees who faced great challenges during the course of their work in 2010. There were many medical calls requiring quick thinking, decisive action, and good judgment. We read about employees who were attacked by dogs while working. We heard of people being injured while doing their daily physical training. We heard about the heroic efforts of many people who were involved in a huge apartment fire not long ago.

The stories we heard made my toes curl at times. And yet, according to the task we were given, we were only allowed to give awards to people who were performing above and beyond the call of duty. (As the Chief can attest, I wanted to give out awards to just about everyone!) But the guidelines are very strict, and the criteria incredibly selective. Over and over, the Chief told me, “That is what we do”.

“That is what we do.” Five little words. Five little words that save countless lives every year. Five little words that make you… our heroes. Words do not adequately address the indebtedness this community has to all of you. From the bottom of our hearts, “Thank you”.