The 26-year-old mother stared down at her son who  was dying of terminal leukemia.  Although her heart  was filled with sadness, she also had a strong feeling
 of determination.

 Like any parent she wanted her son to grow up and  fulfill all his dreams.  Now that was no longer possible.  The leukemia would see to that.  But she still wanted  her son's dreams to come true.  She took her son's  hand and asked,

 "Billy, did you ever think about what you wanted to be  once you grew up?  Did you ever dream and wish what  you would do with your life?"

 "Mommy, I always wanted to be a fireman when I grew up."

 Mom smiled back and said, "Let's see if we can make  your wish come true,"

 Later that day she went to her local fire department in  Phoenix, Arizona, where she met Fireman Bob, who  had a heart as big as Phoenix.  She explained her son's  final wish and asked if it might be possible to give her  six-year-old son a ride around the block on a fire engine.

 Fireman Bob said, "Look, we can do better than that.  If you'll have your son ready at seven o'clock Wednesday  morning, we'll make him an honorary fireman for the  whole day.  He can come down to the fire station, eat  with us, go out on all the fire calls, the whole nine yards!

 "And if you'll give us his sizes, we'll get a real fire uniform  for him, with a real fire hat -- not a toy one -- with the emblem  of the Phoenix Fire Department on it, a yellow slicker  like we wear and rubber boots.  They're all manufactured  right here in Phoenix, so we can get them fast."

 Three days later Fireman Bob picked up Billy, dressed  him in his fire uniform and escorted him from his hospital  bed to the waiting hook and ladder truck.  Billy got to sit  on the back of the truck and help steer it back to the fire  station.

 He was in heaven.  There were three fire calls in Phoenix  that day and Billy got to go out on all three calls.  He rode  in the different fire engines, the paramedic's van and  even the fire chief's car.  He was also video taped for  the local news program.

 Having his dream come true, with all the love and attention  that was lavished upon him, so deeply touched Billy that  he lived three months longer than any doctor thought
 possible.

 One night all of his vital signs began to drop dramatically  and the head nurse, who believed in the hospice concept  that no one should die alone, began to call the family  members to the hospital.

 Then she remembered the day Billy had spent as a fireman,  so she called the fire chief and asked if it would be possible  to send a fireman in uniform to the hospital to be with Billy
 as he made his transition.

 The chief replied, " We can do better than that.  We'll  be there in five minutes.  Will you please do me a favor?  When you hear the sirens screaming and see the lights  flashing, will you announce over the PA system that  there is not a fire?"

 It's just the fire department coming to see one of it's  finest members one more time.  And will you open  the window to his room?  Thanks."

 About five minutes later a hook and ladder truck arrived  at the hospital, extended its ladder up to Billy's third  floor open window and 16 firefighters climbed up the  ladder into Billy's room.  With his mother's permission,  they hugged him and held him and told him how much
 they loved him.

 With his dying breath, Billy looked up at the fire chief  and said, "Chief, am I really a fireman now?"

 "Billy, you are," the chief said.

 With those words, Billy smiled and closed his eyes one last time.
*
A Dedication to Firemen

THE FIRE FIGHTER'S CREED
When I'm called to duty god wherever flames may ragegive me strength to save a life whatever be its age !!
Help me to embrace a little child before it is too late or save an older person from the horror of that fate!!!
Enable me to be alert to hear the weakest shout and quickly and efficiently to put the fire out !!!
I want to fill my calling and to give the best in me to guard my neighbour and protect his property !!!
And if according to your will I have to lose my life bless with your protecting hand my children and my wife!!!
*

Dedicated to Police Men and Police Women
It was written by another officer, Mark Ryan.
... And The Angels Cried
I'd forgotten why I did this. When we left the station it didn't look like rain, but for some reason I could only remember the funerals where it rained. Dave and I stowed our bulky orange raincoats in the trunk and made sure Lisa got hers. "You got a rain bonnet?" Dave asked her as we settled in. He craned around to look through the Plexiglas and wire cage. "I got an extra one if you want." Lisa smiled the way veterans do and held up a clear plastic Stetson-shaped bonnet. Dave and I grinned at each other and I started the car. Sure enough, less that 20 minutes from the station, the sky harkened. Huge, fat drops splattered the Chevy's windshield, quickly becoming one of the worst downpours I'd ever driven in. Swell, this is just what we needed. Cool as ever, Dave sat in the front passenger seat reading the morning paper and sipping coffee with only an occasional glance as the wipers struggled to clear the windshield.
*
Lisa leaned forward from the back seat. I couldn't fault her anxiety; the road was literally underwater in spots and the tires made muted roars as they plowed through. I felt mildly guilty that Lisa would stand her first honor guard in a torrential downpour, and more than a little irritated that I would get soaked again. Did it always rain on a cop's funeral? Seemed so to me. As we threw up another wall of water, I glanced in the rearview mirror. Lisa was fingering a small silver pendant on a chain around her neck. She had been eager to be a part of the detail. I knew she'd just worked a double shift Sunday, but morning found her with us despite the prospect of yet another C-line tour waiting when we returned. "She must really want to be here," I thought, as thunder cracked outside and lightning painted the sky an errie blue-white image for an instant.
*
Blinking against the after image and trying to keep the car on the road, I thought there were several pretty good reasons not to be here this morning. "Hey partner." I flicked Dave's paper with a sharp snap of one finger, trying to force some levity. "Is it true a car's the safest place to be in a lightning storm?" Dave pondered for a moment, studying sheets of water the wipers could no longer keep up with. The fog line was barely visible for 10 feet ahead. It was far darker than it should be at 9:15 in the morning, more like 8 o'clock at night. "I guess," he said finally, shaking his paper out and returning to his reading. "Long as we don't hydroplane, run off the road, and wreck the car." Leave it to Dave. I concentrated on not doing any of those things. By the time we hit the city line, the rain had abated enough for Dave to pick out the street signs.
*
Squinting, Dave guided us down the side streets and we parked along the curb behind a line of police cars. The line continued to lengthen behind us along both sides of the street, stretching for two more blocks. We joined throngs of uniformed officers making their way toward the church, shrugging into orange or black raincoats. Some had brought no rain gear. I wouldn't be the most miserable one after all. The rain persisted as we fell in. I glance around at the different patches from municipal, state, federal and even Canadian law enforcement agencies. We'd traveled over 50 miles: a lot of these cops had come considerably further. As water coursed across the pavement, I tried to estimate the number of police officers here today. I guessed as many as 800 officers.
*
As the rain intensified, local TV news crews scrambled to cover their cameras and seek shelter. On my left, lost in his own thoughts, Dave stood at parade rest, water dripping off the brim of his Stetson, a grim expression on his face. He didn't move. None of the 800 cops moved. To my right, Lisa held the pendant outside her raincoat, fingers wet and dripping. She stared straight ahead, gray eyes distant. Once more the thunder pealed and crushed, tearing the sky overhead. Lisa briefly glanced up at me with a curious expression. I figured she hated me for this. Then came the shouted orders to attention. "Pre- sent...arms!" carried above reverberations of thunder and spatter of rain. Eight hundred arms rippled and held a salute as the hearse rolled mournfully up.
I kept my eyes forward, watching streams of water pour off the sharply slanted church roof. I felt tremendous sorrow for the family and relatives of the fallen deputy. I felt for the pallbearers in their white uniform shirts and gloves as they carried the casket into the church. Rain drenched them and the flag draped coffin. And I felt a little bit sorry for myself as water leached up my uniform slacks. When the solemn cortege had at last entered the church and we were given orders to parade rest, I glanced at Lisa. I felt sorry for her, too. She was squeezing the pendant between thumb and forefinger. I looked down and saw that her feet were saturated. Although she hadn't uttered a word of complaint, I felt compelled to apologize for dragging her on this wretched excursion. I leaned closer. "Sorry," I said wryly. "This is the worst I've ever seen.
*
I don't know why it always rains at these things." Lisa looked at me with an odd expression, head slightly cocked to one side. Her hand opened slowly and I saw it was the silver St. Michael pendant she'd been holding. "He's angry," she said softly, almost drowned out by a crack of thunder. Several officers nearby winced, but Lisa didn't blink. "A policeman is dead and St. Michael cries." I stared at her for a long time without saying anything, while the storm continued around us. I don't know how long we stood there in the rain, but eventually, from some distance place, I heard the call to attention. With 800 other cops, with Dave and Lisa, I saluted again as our fallen brother was brought from the church. The sky opened up worse than ever, but I smiled slightly to myself as the Archangel Michael's rage of loss shook the air and his tears fell on us all.
Now I remember why I did this.
*

*
After I told a freind about my brother of  8 years old in 1960 being
killed in his front yard by a drunk driver. She felt sad that the man
was only spent 30 days in jail only to kill again...
*
Death Of The Innocent
Author: David J. Riddell
I went to a party, Mom, I remembered what you said.
You told me not to drink, Mom, so I drank soda instead.
I really felt proud inside, Mom, the way you said I would.
I didn't drink and drive, Mom, even though the others said I should.
I know I did the right thing, mom, but as I pulled out into the road, the other car didn't see me,
Mom, and hit me like a load. As I lay there on the pavement, mom, I hear the policeman say,
the other guy is drunk, Mom, and now I'm the one who will pay.
I'm lying here dying, Mom, I wish you'd get here soon.
How could this happen to me, Mom? My life just burst like a balloon.
There is blood all around me, Mom, and most of it is mine.
I hear the medic say, Mom, I'll die in a short time.
I just want to tell you, Mom, I swear I didn't drink.
It was the others, Mom. The others didn't think.
He was probably at the same party as I.
The only difference is he drank and I will die.
Why do people drink, Mom? It can ruin your whole life.
I'm feeling sharp pains now. Pains just like a knife.
The guy who hit me is walking, Mom, and I don't think it's fair.
I'm lying here dying and all he can do is stare.
Tell my brother not to cry, Mom. Tell Daddy to be brave.
And when I go to heaven, Mom, put "Daddy's Girl" on my grave.
Someone should have told him, Mom, not to drink and drive.
If only they had told him, Mom, I would still be alive.
My breath is getting shorter, Mom. I'm becoming very scared.
Please don't cry for me, Mom. When I needed you, you were always there.
I have one last question, Mom, before I say good bye.
I didn't drink and drive, so why am I the one to die?
*
(I read this to my freind,
it struck him very hard,
he refused to ride wth his older brother
who was drinking, and bragging on and on...
How mum and pops would never find out as they
trusted him with the car and he was not doing anything wrong.
and good thing he did'nt ride with him and walked.,
His Big brother was buried last summer (1999) and did'nt graduate that year.)

Author: ladywildlife

Below are some fire trucks we have seen in action.

These are mostly Volunteer Fire Departments!!!!
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Thank you for your few moments to read this and please remember our Fire Departments and Police Officers!
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