I went back to duty Friday night after about 4 months off.. and was once again struck by how many young volunteers we have. 17, 18 , 19 year old kids riding fire trucks and ambulances, and most of them doing a damn good job. In a lot of ways the fire house is like hanging out in the parking lot after school...smoking cigarettes, telling bullshit stories, flirting, just acting cool...the difference between these kids and my High School friends is this: we just went home, theses kids hop on trucks and fly down the street with sirens blaring. (All I had that blared was the radio in my '68 Dodge Dart.) All in all a good bunch of kids, and I'm glad to be back.
Saturday night my friend Joe's band was playing down the block so we all went to sit out at the Tiki bar and listen to them play 70's funk and oldies. Sitting with us ( on two seat cushions he brought in a shopping bag) was Joe's 80 something year old Dad. He and I had a nice chat about the Big band era while we watched his sons band play.. In the middle of a song Joe did a little Rod Stewart style leg kick thing and then his dad got a huge grin on his face and said: "Oh look, Joe jumped up". You could tell it was the same pride he had when Joe was a boy and did something right. A sweet moment, and it made me miss my dad. A fathers pride is a wonderful thing.
Sunday we were back at the Kennedy Center for the Bolshoi ballet. I have seen a fair number of companies over the years but no one can touch the Bolshoi for sheer perfection and beauty. Iam more convinced than ever that one can glorify the divine on pointed toe as well as bended knee. Magnificent!
