What is gratitude?

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

The polished boots are off, and I’m tired. I’ve spent a few days accepting the gratitude of many, many people. I know it isn’t me they want to thank; they want to thank 343 people who aren’t here, but I’m available and wearing blue.

They stood and cheered by the hundreds on Memorial Day as we marched by. They sniffled and patted us on the back today. (Hopefully they didn’t use their back-patting hands to wipe their noses.) I understand they’re feeling powerful emotions, and if directing some sort of display at me makes them feel better, well hey, I’m here to help.

I know my department isn’t the only one on the receiving end of this today. And I know I’m not the only one who recognizes that we do this in proxy, for the ones who can’t be here.

But as I sat and looked over the menus of restaurants that deliver (pizza, pizza, Chinese, pizza…) the thought crept into my brain that if somebody really, really wanted to show their gratitude, they’d swing by the station with a casserole.

Yes, I have no shame. But since you don’t know where I work, my chances of personally profiting from this soliloquy are roughly nil.

Is everyone as grateful as I’m told? Show us. Do you stop for a coffee and then drive by a firehouse on your way to work? Pick up a half dozen donuts and drop them off. Yes, the 11th is almost over. But are you grateful only for today? How about the holidays, when we’re there, talking on the phone to our families, hanging up abruptly when your Christmas turkey smokes and sets off the alarm? What about the Tuesday after next, which is… well, it’s a Tuesday, and we’ll be there, just like every other Tuesday.

In reality, I know this isn’t practical. Hell, on the day you stop for those donuts, we probably won’t be there. We’ll be on the way to your next door neighbor’s house, because the forgotten bacon cooking on the stove blew up and set the cabinets on fire. And sometimes we do cook, so when you march in with that casserole, we might be sitting down to pork chops. So forget I suggested it.

But the next time you shake a firefighter’s hand, please consider who it is you’re thanking, and why. And if you feel any gratitude toward the human being whose hand you’re grasping, please let them know.

And use a tissue. Thanks.

2

Upon reflection (the kind of reflection that can only happen after hitting the “Submit” button,) I realized that my post looked like it was trolling for thank yous.

It isn’t. For my part, I’m enormously grateful to have both the ability and the opportunity to make a positive difference in my neighbors’ lives. Yes, it sounds maudlin when reduced to words, but I’m grateful that I’m able to serve. I don’t want any kind of recognition for what I do. I just want the opportunity to continue doing it.

Perhaps that’s why I’m so tired. I never expected this kind of treatment, never wanted it, and never prepared for it. I see it in the eyes of the firefighters around me, and hear it in their words: “They’re grateful now, but when we close the road and make them late for work they’re not so grateful anymore.”

So before you flame me I’m not trolling for a thank you for myself. And I’m not complaining. But I’d like to know what people think when they look at us, when they shake our hands and cry, when they wear our logos and put money in our boots and cut us off in intersections. I’ve spent nearly a year wondering, and it’s finally spilled out.