…and now I’m found – Michael Morse

by Michael Morse, contributing writer

July 5, 2017: first year of retirement from the Providence Fire Department

I was missing; gone for decades, lost in disillusionment. It took a long time for me to get there, the road to cynicism, sarcasm and despair is not a freeway with no stop signs, no speed limit and no red lights, rather it is a meandering road with plenty of curves, hills and valleys, one that brought me to places I never knew existed.

That those places exist seven minutes from my home, where my station is located in the heart of Rescue 1’s district is irrelevant, for once you let them exist in your heart and mind they might as well lie in bed with you.

I thought I was okay with all that I saw, figured I handled things the best I could, the best that could be expected. I didn’t think I had changed, even though those closest to me told me I had, I just didn’t see it. I thought it was the natural progression of a man – a fireman’s – life to be obsessed with the news, stop laughing, stop smiling, stop seeing the world as a safe, honest place, a place where doing the right thing mattered all of the time, not when it best suited you.

I thought it was normal that people shot each other, molested kids, abused kids, let kids die in their backyard pools, let them die from burns, bruises and neglect, got drunk, drove drunk, fought, stabbed, screamed and cheated, lied and took advantage of “the system” every chance they got.

I thought Fourth of July was a holiday for a different generation, because the Fourth of July I knew existed of drunken fools, gunfire, blown off body parts, fights, car accidents and fires.

That is what I thought.

Last night I spent the evening with my family, sitting under a massive tent on a gracious lawn bordering Narragansett Bay, eating cheeseburgers, ribs, mussels, corn on the cob and chowder, cold drink in my hand, listening to normal conversation with normal people while watching dozens of kids run around like little demons, chasing each other, falling in the grass, getting back up and doing it some more, until the sun went down, and the music turned up, and it wasn’t gangsta rap; rather it was the Star Spangled banner, followed by Star Wars, then some other majestic symphonies.

In the air fireworks exploded, giant fiery apparitions covering an inky black sky, and between bursts stars slowly materialized, and when the fireworks ended the night sky was full of them, endless, infinite and glorious, and I sat there in amazement, my wife in my arms, my daughter and her husband sitting on the grass in front of me, a few hundred other people nearby, all of us content, at peace and happy to be alive, and part of the America that I had forgotten existed.

The morning news told the story of a double shooting in Providence at midnight, and another seven minutes from my front door an hour later…

I turned it off before learning if the victims lived or died.

It’s time for me to start living . . .

July 3, 2023

. . . and it keeps getting better. Grandkids now, little rascals just beginning their American journey, knowing they are loved, and blissfully aware that their parents and grandparents love the America we are creating, generation by generation.

Our future is as bright as we are willing to make it. God bless us all, and God bless the United States of America.

___

Read more article by Michael Morse, here: https://rinewstoday.com/michael-morse/

Michael Morse, [email protected], a monthly contributor is a retired Captain with the Providence Fire Department.

Michael Morse spent 23 years as a firefighter/EMT with the Providence Fire Department before retiring in 2013 as Captain, Rescue Co. 5. He is an author of several books, most offering fellow firefighter/EMTs and the general population alike a poignant glimpse into one person’s journey through life, work and hope for the future. He is a Warwick resident.