My son Luke loved firefighters as a boy. He also loved costumes. Over the years Luke dressed up as all the well-known super-heroes—Superman, Batman, Spider-Man—as well as some of the lesser known characters. Characters, I learned later, that were a figment of his imagination. I helped Luke make super-hero costumes: we sewed onion bags on his coat sleeves for Spider-Man, attached capes to his clothing, and cut out letters to attach to his T-shirts. The neighbours loved it.
His favourite alter ego was “Fireman.” He wore an old navy jacket of mine that reached his knees, his fireman hat, and his Wellington boots. And he always brought along his trusty fire truck with the extension ladder. We even constructed a fire hose out of wool and foil. At the park Luke would play on the climber, slide down the fire pole, drive his truck to the scene of the fire, and then save the day with his fire hose.
One day, while we were playing, we heard the sound of a real fire engine. We lived in a big city at the time, so that wasn’t uncommon, but on this particular day the truck came down the street and past the park. We watched it whiz past and then stop suddenly in front of an apartment building that was billowing smoke. It was very exciting.
Luke quickly grabbed his own fire engine and took off down the street. By the time we got on the scene the firefighters had the blaze under control.
As I watched the action, I became aware of Luke setting up his truck and taking his hose out of his pocket. Just then a firefighter, who I guess had noticed this small boy dressed as a fireman complete with wool hose and miniature fire truck, came over and said to him, “Come on, let’s go, we’ve got a fire to fight!”
Luke looked at him, in shock, and said, “I’m not the real Fireman, I’m just a small boy.”
Arnprior, Ontario