16 East Street
Assistant Fire Chief
Massachusetts Department of
These words were written by Father Mychal Judge, Chaplain of the NYC Fire Department, on September 10, 2001, one day before he was killed at the World Trade Center while caring for an injured firefighter. May he and all those who gave the supreme sacrifice that day, rest in peace.
You do what God called you to do.
You show up, you put one foot in front of the other,
and you do your job, which is a mystery and a surprise.
You have no idea, when you get in the rig, what God is calling you to do.
But he needs you....... so keep going.
Keep supporting each other.
Be kind to each other.
Love each other.
You love the job.
We all do.
What a blessing that is."
Father Mychal Judge
Father Mychal Judge
A Firefighters Gloves hold many things
From elderly arms to a kids broken swing
From the hands they shake and the backs they pat
To the tiny claw marks of another treed cat
At 2 am they are filled with the chrome
From the DWI who was on her way home
And the equipment they use to roll back the dash
From a family of 6 she involved in the crash
The brush rakes in spring wear the palms out
When the wind does a "90" to fill them with doubt
The thumb of the glove wipes the sweat from the brow
Of the face of a firefighter who mutters "What now"
They hold inch and three quarters flowing one seventy five
So the ones going in, come back out alive
When the regulator goes; then there isn't too much,
But the bypass valve they eagerly clutch
The rescue equipment, the ropes, the C-collars;
The lives that they save never measured in dollars
Are the obvious things firefighters gloves hold
Or, so that is what I've been always told
But there are other things Firefighters Gloves touch
Those are the things we all need so much
They hold back the rage on that 3 am call
They hold in the fear when your lost in a hall
They hold back the pity, agony, sorrow
They hold in the desire to "Do it tomorrow"
A gloves just a glove till it's on firefighters
Who work all day long just to pull an all-nighter
And into the fray they charge without fear
At the sound of a "Help" they think that they hear
When firefighters hands go into the glove
It's a firefighter who always fills it with love
Sometimes the sorrow is too much to bear
And it seeps the glove and burns deep "in there"
Off comes the gloves when the call is done
And into the pocket until the next run
The hands become lonely and cold for a bit
And shake just a little thinking of it
And they sit there so red eyed with their gloves in their coats
The tears come so fast that the furniture floats
They're not so brave now; their hands they can't hide
I guess it just means that they're human inside
And though some are paid and others are not
The gloves feel the same when it's cold or it's hot
To someone you're helping to just get along
When you fill them with love, you always feel strong
And so when I go on my final big ride
I hope to have my gloves by my side
To show to St. Peter at that heavenly gate
Cause as everyone knows, firefighters don't wait.