From the mouths of babes—come Chiefs

Walking in for a visit with a friend of mine, I saw the assistant chief’s buggy outside the building. 

“So, you put a white hat back on?” I asked him.  My friend had been the department chief a number of years ago.

“No, I took a captain’s spot.  That’s his,” he said pointing at a young—well young to me—man who he then introduced me to.  My friend then went on to tell me that the young man’s father had been a captain when he had been chief years before and he knew the now assistant chief since he had been quite young. 

My friend told how the boy had enjoyed his trips to the fire house, looking at the equipment and asking questions.  One day, when he was about five years old, he noticed my friend’s turn out gear in the back of the chief’s car. 

“What’s that for?” He asked. 

“Well, when I get to the fire, I put my gear one,” my friend answered. 

“Really?  My daddy says you just go to the fire and yell at everybody.”