When I was a little kid, I wanted to be a firefighter. They were my heroes.

Back in the ’70s when July 4 was an excuse to burn abandoned houses, we used to take cookies or brownies to the guys at our local firehouse because we knew they were going to have a rough night.

After 9/11, tears have come to my eyes many times as I have contemplated the bravery of the men and women in New York City that day. Two weeks afterwards I drove to lower Manhattan and walked by several firehouses with their makeshift memorials. I was overcome with grief and respect.

But, now when I see a fire truck in Rhode Island, I don’t think “hero.” I think “greedy.” I think “selfish.” I think “mercenary.”

The antics of the Providence firefighters union and those here in Cranston have changed my perceptions forever. I can’t look at a truck now without thinking about their outrageous pensions, benefits and that we pay more for fire protection here in Rhode Island than anywhere else in the country.

I vote for a new state slogan: Hopeless.

RICK JACKSON

Cranston