I'd like to dedicate tonight's show to the families of Richard Stefanakis and Charles Brace, Pittsburgh firefighters.

Chances are, no one died where you work today. Nobody placed their life in your hands. Odds are that there wasn't a single moment today where you were expected to make a life and death choice at the office, in the shop, or at the store where you work.

And when you left the house this morning, you probably did not think to yourself, "this could be my last day".

And if that is indeed the case, good for you. And good for me, as well. Nobody faced death today at this radio station. Not a single one of us arrived at work, knowing that getting your requested Led Zeppelin and that Mullet Talk sketch on the air would save your life. And nobody I work with, to my knowledge, rolled out of bed this morning with the premonition that today could be his or her last.

I don't know that I could work a job that gave me those kinds of thoughts. The worst thing that can happen at my job is that I'm not entertaining, I don't play the right music, people stop listening, I get fired and have to find work at an oldies station that pays one third of what I'm making.

I'm not exactly living in danger.

Nor do I wish to.

Thank goodness, not everybody is like me.

There are those people in this world who like to be challenged. They enjoy doing the jobs that no one else will do. These people are motivated by more than just money. They have an inner motivation that gravitates them towards their current job. Ask any one of them why they do it and they'll tell you they can't imagine doing anything else.

They are firefighters.

Each day, firefighters report to their jobs, punch the clock and settle in for what could very well be their last day on Earth. Monday night, Thursday afternoon, Saturday morning, it's the same. The alarm will sound. They will respond. And every once in a while, they die while fighting a fire.

This past Saturday morning, the city of Pittsburgh lost two such firefighters. Richard Stefanakis and Charles Brace had been firefighters for more than 30 years each. That's thirty years of leaving for work, kissing the wife and kids goodbye, knowing that today might be the day. That's thirty years of watching as comrades and buddies fell by the wayside. That's thirty years of answering the bell.

Richard and Charles were inside the famous Ebeneezer Baptist Church, the enormous stone structure in the Hill district of Pittsburgh, during the tail end of a multiple alarm blaze that destroyed the 72-year old building.

There was nothing out of the ordinary about the fire. Just another day at work. While others were preparing themselves to march in the St. Patrick's Day Parade, Stefanakis and Brace, 30 year firefighting veterans, moved hoses throughout what was left of the gigantic Hill District church, trying to make sure there would be no more flare ups. The fire was just about out. But you can never be too careful. They had been battling the blaze since before dawn.

At just past noon, the enormous five-story bell tower collapsed, crushing the two firefighters, throwing block, brick and granite down on the heads of dozens of still-working comrades.

Twenty-eight were taken to hospitals.

Richard Stefanakis and Charles Brace died at the scene.

Just another day at work.

I don't know whether I could run into a burning building. Certainly, you would think I'd be able to do it to save a loved one - my child, my mother, my wife - but would I be willing to venture into the depths of Hades to rescue a total stranger? Would I be willing to put my life on the line, just to see if there was someone in that building? And even if I was willing, would my body be able to survive? Would my instincts be enough to get the job done? And, having done the job, would I go back in again. And again. And again.

Week after week after week, fire after life-threatening fire, for thirty years?

No.

No is the answer.

But there are people who are born to be heroes, who don't see the dangers, or, if they do, they see them as being more than balanced against the benefits.

Those kinds of people save lives.

They're called firefighters.

We lost two more this weekend - two that we could not bare to lose.

They just don't make that many.