"Preserving our Natural Resources for the Public, instead of from the Public."
Public Parking, Public Beaches and Public Rights of way. ...



"THE CREATION OF THE FIREMAN"

When the Lord was creating Firefighters, he was into his sixth day of
 overtime when an angel appeared and said, "Your 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 every day person would never touch, while
 putting in the back of their mind 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 the 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 model? " asked the angel.
 
 The Lord nodded. " One pair that sees 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 that 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 and 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. It 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 themselves. This Firefighter also has
 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?" asked the angel.
 
 "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 wonderful feature Lord, you're a genius" said the angel.
 
 The Lord looked somber and said "I didn't put it there."
 
 "Author Unknown" 


For more Fire Service Poems Click here.

"YOU'RE AMERICA"

Pray with us below for those we lost. ...

Go to bottom of page!!!

 

 

 

New York Post

LET their pathetic little flags flutter limply in our wind of freedom.

The governments of Iraq and Libya think they're making a defiant statement by flying their missions' flags at full-staff in war-torn New York. Let's give them this. They're making themselves heard loud and clear. Nowhere was their message heard louder than in Rockaway, Queens, where retired firefighter Jack Dugan and hundreds of his friends said their final farewells to a war hero -- 48-year-old Captain Walter Hynes.

'Sure, I think it's outrageous, but in many ways we should be grateful,' Dugan said. 'Now we know who they are.'

It was a long day for Jack and his fellow retirees. After saying good-bye to Hynes, they took a sad trip to Staten Island to pay respects to a second war hero, Louis Arena, 27.

I'd love to have seen the despots in their sand castles look in the face of Ronnie Hynes, the fallen hero's wife, and see her three daughters. Oh yes, there were gaping holes in their hearts -- which somehow seemed to fill very quickly with pride. I'd love to have seen the despots in the sand castles look into the face of Wanda Arena as she led her tiny children, Joseph and Nina, towards their father's final resting place.

Tears of abject sadness? Of course. But an overwhelming sense that those men did not die in vain. So let their little flags flutter in ignominy for as long as we'll allow.

 

Rochelle Riley