My First-Ever "Behind The Scenes Worker Appreciation Awards"

They're there. Every day of our lives. Most everywhere we look. There they are. Always doing something. Doing something for others. Strangers, visitors to town, the endangered, sick and even ignorant people such as I.

They are such as part of our surroundings, we never really see them for who they are. We just stroll by as if we are in the Garden of Eden. Ahhh, yes. Life is good. Breathe in that sweet air.

Until . . .

Dark and mysterious tragedy with many faces and forms sticks its face up and glares into the eyes of our families and friends.

Suddenly . . .

We need "them." The very ones whom we almost-trampled yesterday. The very ones whom we cursed underneath our breath for causing a traffic jam to use something called "The Jaws of Life," to rescue a stranger who was at "death's door." Of all the nerve. Tying up traffic at rush hour. Who gave them this authority to do such an uncalled for act?

We did.

And when "they" do their jobs, act on the callings that have been placed on their lives--sacrificing their own time, life, limb and health, oh boy do we get our ire up. We glare at them as we finally get to drive by to attend our dinner date with an important person from our company.

"Someone needs to do something about that irritation . . ."

Why?

Have you ever, and I do mean with all sincerity, ever, sat down and honestly looked at your life, your neighborhood, your town and even your nation and what it would be like without "them," the very ones in their colorful uniforms mostly soiled by someone else's blood, dirt and sweat that came from losing a life?

I mean, have "we" ever in our time of being an adult so-called, ever just took out some time from our valuable, priceless schedules, to show, at most, a little, appreciation to these men and women who rise before we wake, work while we nod, and never punch a clock, and yet, always answer "that" call when tragedy or trouble invades our homes, takes lives and leaves permanent scars from accidents, sicknesses and those hidden problems that we dare not mention in polite company.

I confess.

I am the one whom is guilty of such a neglect of "these" much-needed professionals that help keep our society glued-together.

Hey, guys and gals, who don the stained uniform and carry the heavy gear . . ."I apologize to you for taking you for granted."

I am totally serious.

I wish I had the funds and means to give all of you and your comrades a very-needed raise in pay for all that you have done and are doing for people like me who live their lives as if no rain will ever fall on my head.

I admit. I have been very stupid in not showing you my sincere appreciation for the lives you have saved, cuts you have mended and lives you have given another day.

Thank you.

And even now I feel such a load of guilt because that "thank you" from my keyboard is sadly not enough. I wish it was.

So to all of the

• Police men and women
• Firemen and women
• Cooks and chefs
• Teachers
• Pilots
• Housewives
• Assistant coaches
• Ministers, assistant ministers
• Nurses aides
• State troopers
• Dispatchers
• EMT's
• Emergency Room professionals
• Military personnel
• Doctors of the body and mind
• Daycare workers
• Ambulance, Fire truck and other emergency vehicle drivers

and many, many more who have willfully taken on the roles and vocations that they play every day right in front of our eyes . . .

Again, "thank you," from the very regions of my heart where only God looks.

"Thank you."

And with much appreciation, I gladly present to each of you, and even those that I have accidentally overlooked, my "Behind The Scenes Worker Appreciation Awards" for you just being the best at what you do. And when you are not, and still carry on.

We appreciate you so much.

And if you, the reader of this piece, has someone in your family, or knows someone in these categories, I urge you to please take the time, maybe five minutes, call them, visit them, but by all means tell them . . .

How much they mean to our world.

Thank you.