I remember my first fire call as if it was yesterday. I was sitting at home, when the pager went off for a structure fire near the center of town. I got in my car and flew to the station, eager to be next to a Hero. To be a Firefighter, what a dream come true.

As a child and watching firefighters on TV shows, I could only dream of the day that I too, would be a Hero. What was a Hero? These were the people that made a difference, and these were the firefighters. Firefighters in their big red trucks and bright yellow gear, these were the men and women I respected. As my days on the department grew into years, my Hero’s changed. Their gear was no longer bright, and being the first one there didn’t mean very much anymore. Instead, my Hero was seldom seen at a fire and only appeared on meeting nights to complain or cast a vote. Are these the people I wanted so much to be like? Where were the Hero’s?

I came to realize that over the years, I too, had fallen into this routine. I had failed as a Hero. Then a Rookie came along. Yes, the Rookie we laughed about, the Rookie we loved to tease. But this Rookie came with the same spirit I once had-only wanting to be a Hero. I realized he already was a Hero, with a sense of pride and the true dedication to show up for even the smallest of fires-no matter what he was doing.