Page 20 - Firehouse Pond

THE FIREHOUSE, THE FIREMEN, AND THE FIREHOUSE POND

It was late on a cold and rainy afternoon. I was a scrawny six-year-old boy. I
had escaped another whipping by my drunken father. It wasn’t the first and

certainly would not be the last.

Running in my bare feet, wearing patched blue jeans and a raggedy t-shirt, I
raced into the first place I saw; the local firehouse.

The firemen took me to the kitchen and fed me a grilled cheese sandwich
with hot chocolate to drink. I could see the pond through the kitchen

window; it was small; the firemen were bigger than life. The firehouse was
warm and quiet. During the next few years, I would use the firehouse as my
private and secret haven from the viciousness at home.

Many lessons of life were learned by me during those visits to the firehouse.
I recall there were three firemen who protected me. One, I believe was

named Johnathan. He was young, strong, soft-spoken and a Christian. His
belief mirrored my grandparents, making him that much more comforting to
me.

Johnathan would often make each of us a sandwich and take me outside to the
fishpond located next to the old firehouse.

He and I would sit, talk, feed the fish, and make plans for my future. I did not
realize at the time, but he was often paraphrasing from scripture while
calming a fearful little boy.

He would say things like: “Do not be worried about your life.”, and “be
tough, and let your heart be brave.” His soft voice and determined resolve
helped me make it through incident after incident. Johnathan never wavered;

he reassured me and kept me safe.

The warmth of the firehouse; the kindness of the firemen; the rippling of the

water; feeding the fish; having a safe place; all those things supported my
growth and maturity. Lessons learned sitting by the firehouse pond would
serve me well into the future.