My father was a fireman. My grandfather was a fireman. An uncle or two were volunteers. The fire service has been integral to my life. As I listen to Mayor Riley honor the nine firefighters who lost their lives, and the firefighters who daily protect Charleston, I can't hold back the tears, nor can I hold back thoughts of service.
Some of my earliest memories are hearing fire sirens and then making the sign of the cross and saying a quick, heart-felt Hail Mary (I was Catholic). The families understood, as did the firefighters, that this is a dangerous business. I don't know of a fire fighter who thinks of heroism as a part of their job description. All the ones I have ever known saw fighting fires as job that had the added plus of being service to their community. Most just say it is a job someone has to do and they feel fortunate to be among those who are called to do it. But they never think of themselves as heroes -- that is up to the rest of us to consider.
When I hear the fire siren, I am still quick with a prayer for the people answering the call. Their families also need a prayer because they do understand that each call has its own danger -- being a fire fighter is not a routine job, under any circumstances. One of my father's worst injuries came at a grass fire when the smoke obscured a hold and went down with a heavy water pack on his back.
Here in Hartsville we are fortunate to have a strong fire department that is a combination of paid fire fighters and volunteer fire fighters. Their presence is our protection and has been for 99 years in this community. They will appreciate your prayers but will be embarrassed if you talk about heroism -- that is not in their self concept. They serve and protect. Like most of you, in Hartsville, SC, or in other communities around the world, I am thankful they are there!
