holding out for a hero

It's been a while since I've written about my brother. Recently however I've found myself talking about him more in various different conversations. Everyone always seems impressed when I say my brother's a firefighter.

I don't have the same sense of awe, as I prefer to have a healthy sense of denial about what my brother does. In my world, he doesn't run into burning buildings, he drives the truck at best. Big fires happen when my brother is off shift (which is statistically valid, considering he works seven out of 28 days).

Every now and then something comes along to shatter these illusions, both on a large and small scale.

I remember watching the live coverage of 9/11 and seeing the World Trade Centres collapse, knowing there were firefighters who were other people's brothers in there. Whenever there are accidents involving firefighters, I head straight to the phone and call my brother. I don't have much to say but just have to call.

A few months ago my mother sent me a photo of my brother that appeared in the Toronto Star. It was the back of him and another firefighter (their names are on the backs of the jackets like athletes so it was clear it was him). First my brother who is shorter than I am looked like a kid compared to the other firefighter. He was responding to a gas explosion. This photo not helpful for the denial.

However, my brother sent me the following photo of himself today. I don't know who took it or where it came from but the photo does much to reassure me.


See, after finishing driving the truck my brother stands and drinks coffee while other people run into burning buildings. My brother said to crop out the coffee cup but I'm holding on to that cup of coffee harder than he is.