Someone close to me is a rookie Firefighter, new to the job, eight months on. Long enough to start being confident in her knowledge, yet new enough to be seeing things for the first time.

Yesterday she was at her second house fire, and she was both thrilled and fascinated with it all. She told me about it over the phone, her voice full of excitement and adrenaline. There was triumph there and wonder. There seemed to be as much wonder at the fact that she had really been there as there was about the awesome power and beautiful violence of the fire itself.

Later I read a poem she wrote about it. It reminded me of the ones I used to write twenty years ago. It made me smile and feel good that the nobility of the job still burns inside the newbies.

Don't get me wrong, I still consider Firefighting a noble profession, and I still consider fire awesome and frighteningly beautiful, but I no longer see it as "the enemy". Sure, I hate what it does, I hate the hurt and loss it causes, I hate the suffering and despair that follows it.

I don't hate the fire though. It's no less noble than I am.

I used to box. I boxed for many years and would step into the ring a few times a week and square off against many different men, some more dangerous than others. All could hurt me, all could injure me. some could have killed me given the right circumstances. I had fear and excitement, i had awe and wonder, but I very very rarely had anger much less hatred. I was facing something fearful, I was taking a chance on being hurt, but it was nothing personal. One of us would win and one would lose. It was as simple as that. One of us was going to triumph, one wasn't. I intended to be the one who won.

It was nothing personal though.

That's fire to me. It's an opponent. It must exist the same as I must. After that fire there will be more, after I'm gone there will be more Firefighters. The cycle will never end. I have to be the best I can be or I'll get hurt or killed. I have to commit myself to the work at hand or I'll be maimed or killed, and so will the people who rely on me. That's the difference between firefighting and boxing. In the ring it was only me who would get the shit beaten out of me. In this job I get hurt, and so do my people.

How do I see the fire? Well it's not a dragon nor a demon, it's almost a colleague. It can never be a friend, that's for sure, not an enemy either. It's a force, and a competitor. The prize is lives and property, it's a fight, and there are no rules other than survival. It's not romantic nor is it heroic. It's a job and it's honourable.

I used to see it romantically a long time ago, I don't know when my view of myself changed from knight to tradesman, but it did. I'm a journeyman in my trade, my trade is Firefighting.

Truth be told I envy her her romantic vision of it all, I miss mine.
 
 
 
 
 

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