One thing I never expected when I joined the rescue squad is that I would become good buddies with a bunch of men in their 50s.

Every Wednesday I spend my evening with these guys. There are some younger guys, and girls, who come and go from time to time, but four of us comprise the core Wednesday evening crew: me, and three men the same age as my father.

Age is the least of our differences. They're conservative in their beliefs and often narrow-minded in their thinking. But then, that's not so different from much of my family, really. And like family, I adore these guys despite our varying viewpoints. They are truly good men.

One is a retired dairy farmer who's shopping for a Mazda Miata and talks about getting a Ford emblem tattoo on his butt. He adores his kids, who are my age, and is the kindest person you could ever ask to meet.

One is a "grumpy older man." That's what I wrote next to his name after first meeting him, on the list I was keeping of everyone I'd met as a way to remember names. Grumpy older man. He is, and he isn't. If he likes you, he's a dear. And he likes me. He's my fellow EMT, and often my teacher, too. He had a heart attack only a couple months after I'd joined the crew, and that immediately deepened our bond, as serious health events often do. He loves to fish, rides a scooter, and swings an arm across my shoulders when we're walking somewhere.

One brings us dessert almost every week. He likes cooking in his dutch oven, and his specialty, pineapple-upside cake, is to die for. He always watches American Idol and votes every week for his favorite contestant. He's the squad captain, beloved by everyone, and his is the respect I most value.

We're a team. We run calls together, and sooner or later we'll save a life together. We have inside jokes, and play the occasional prank. We go out to dinner, or sometimes make dinner together. We watch COPS. We make fun of people. It's a rare evening that passes without a dirty joke or a mention of boobs. We tease each other, and make each other laugh. One night we stood outside and watched the space station glide across the sky. We swap stories. We share our weekend plans and ask about each other's families. We're friends. They're my fellas.