I wrote a bit about the history of the bugle in the fire service and intended to post it here today when the tradition led me back to why I am where I am today.

When my father made Captain, I recall being surprised and honored when he asked his teenage son to pin his badge on at the ceremony.
Captain.
Two bugles.

Over the years that followed we had our differences, but those bugles always followed me. They were on the collar of the officer who led my volunteer fire academy. Two bugles adorned the badge of the woman who failed me out of the exam in Seattle. The bugles greeted me on my first day in my current Department.

Seems like a simple symbol, but looking back that had to be one of the most shaping moments in my learning years. A little piece of metal with twin shapes.

Why we do what we do can be a difficult question to answer. There are those who might show you a paycheck or a retirement calculation. Then there are others who look at you blankly as if there were no other profession in the world.

I particularly enjoyed Nicholas Cage’s character in Bringing out the Dead when he answered, “Father was a bus driver, mother was a nurse, I was kind of born into it.”

I am a fireman because of my father. I know, on Father’s Day of all days to chime in about it.
Dad made sure I went to my Explorer meetings instead of being an idiot.
Dad sent me a pair of good structural gloves when my volunteer department’s gloves didn’t feel right.
He has always been there, even if it was shouting at one another that first summer back from college. Shouting which inspired me to pass the volunteer test and get on with the local dept.
Dad gave me support when I made Lieutenant at my first paid spot. Then even more support when I got demoted.
Dad did his best to keep me on task with school, despite my efforts to the contrary.
Dad made my Paramedic graduation and got me my own clipboard, which I used.
He led by example, still does.

Mal Reynolds would say the Angry Captain ain’t got much need for words. His actions speak for him.

He likely disapproves of this kind of talk in a public arena, but I want my readers to know why I do what I do.

Because of Dad.
Sappy for sure, but 100% true. His example of unconditional support taught me that I can do anything I want, and I did.

The more I think about it, it was standing in front of Station 22 as the Truck pulled out on a job that got me into this profession. You can’t show a 10 year old boy a 100′ Crown Tiller rolling code to a job and not expect him to go into the business. Forget what I said up there, go with the truck explanation.

Thanks, Dad.
Thank you, Captain.
Appreciate it, Pop.