my dad WRITTEN BY: John S. Manuel, DATE POSTED: 1/3/01 My dad he was a fireman when I was very small, He started the year of "69" to answer his first call. As the years past by and I got big it was so clear to me, A fireman like my dad is what I want to be. He took me on the runs he made lights and siren screaming, To see him ride out on the truck left my face a beaming. When they came back from the run and the truck pulled In the bay, he'd let me help to wash the truck, then sit in The cab and play. Years went past and came the day when I would turn Sixteen, and hear my dad tell me that I could join the team. The rookie class and trainings were very hard at times, But at the end of all of it I could man the lines. Late at night the house was quiet nothing made a sound, Then the Motorola would blast the tones out loud. "The dogs Would bar, the lights came on, we scrambled for our gear, And jump into that old dodge my dad behind the wheel. Light and siren going we headed to the station, a crew of Six was ready for this situation. Someone yelled out to my dad "you want to drive this one"a He smiled at me and said "No thanks I'll ride out with my son" After twenty seven years of service, my dad he passed away, Dying in the line of duty, dying a fireman that day. And since that fatal, terrible day in November of 96, His gear stands at the station house with black ribbons affixed. That's been thirty years ago I rode the tailboard with my dad, But I'll never forget times we spent the good ones and the bad. And though a few departments I've been on since then, I'll never forget that fever and where it first began. Thank you dad for the things you taught me, lessons I've Learned well. And stories of my younger days to my children I can tell. And as I make each run, and leave my children and My wife, I only hope that when I go I've led a firefighter's life