In the town where I grew up, there is a memorial at the corner of Hancock and Pikes Peak Avenues for Fallen Fire Fighters. I remember visiting when it was first unveiled in the late 80’s. A family member took me along and we stood among other families, mostly made up of fire fighters. I remember feeling both lucky and afraid that I was connected to this. This memorial always seemed to remain the same: something for all the city and it’s visitors to see, but seeing very few that would ever have a direct connection.
I remember our soccer team would practice in the fields around the memorial. I remember sometimes, you’d see a visitor or two, sitting on a bench or tracing the letters in a name on the wall. And the memorial just stood there, on it’s own, always available to that occasional visitor.
A memorial, in and of itself, is strong. It’s constant, it doesn’t ask for anything and it’s dependable. This one is no different. And over several weeks in the Autumn of 2001, I was reminded how very much this memorial is like those it honors. Strong, constant, unassuming and dependable.
The purpose of this memorial didn’t change five years ago. But I think, in some obscure way that no one could have ever imagined, it’s place has. It will always be on a small corner in a relatively small city, but to some now, it seems more like a place for a connection to those we may have never known but also, will never forget.
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IAFF: Fallen Fire Fighter Memorial
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