Last night as we celebrated Scott and Taylor’s birthday at Babe’s in Granbury, a group of firefighters from the Fire Management Team from the Uinta Wasatch Cache Natonal Forest Service sat at the table across from us. More about these firefighters.
I am grateful tonight for firefighters including those who died and worked through 9/11 in NYC, D.C. and Pennsylvania. I’m also grateful for the volunteers who fished my father’s pickup out of Lake Granbury even before 2001 and those first responders working at the intersection of Beach and Fossil Creek Blvd. on August 15, 2005 at around Noon when my son’s body lay 50 feet south of the intersection in need of medical care. Because of brave men and women who go out to accidents, fires and other moments of tragedy and danger my family has been blessed, our nation has been blessed. They selflessly rescue and skillfully attempt to save homes and businesses some to their own peril.
This weekend I asked my nephew, Ben, who is four what he wanted to be when he grew up. He said, “A firefighter.”
I asked, “And what do they do?”
At first he said, “Slide down a pole.”
But, later, he said they fight fires, rescue people and climb ladders.
After we returned to my parents stuffed with Babe’s chicken, I overheard this conversation between Ben and my 3 year old nephew, Wyatt:
Wyatt: Let’s go into the dark place.
Ben follows Wyatt into the darkened downstairs entry/storage area off the living room. Both boys hastily run back out. They then walk slowly back in and come running back out.
Ben: (screams) There were skeletons!
Me: Was it scary?
Ben: Yes, but we must face our fears.