There is a high probability that on your commute to work, taking children to school, or going to the grocery, you pass a place dedicated to the safety of your neighborhood. It is the local fire station. Their very existence, tall doors rolled open and trucks parked neatly inside, offers a sense of stability in a community. A way to love your neighbors and neighborhood is to know not only the location, but the names of the men and women whose work is providing that sense of safety every day.

The text message from my neighbor came the weekend after he and his family moved out. “Can I borrow your mower tomorrow? If not. That’s ok.” He needed to mow his yard before the new family moved in and had already moved all the tools from his garage. “Absolutely. I’ll have the battery charged.” I replied. It was a punctuation mark on two years of lending tools to each other while he lived on our street.