South City Confessions: His name was Benjamin Polson

St. Louis lost a young firefighter this month: a hero only trying to do some good.

When Benjamin Polson, a 33-year-old St. Louis firefighter lost his life on the job this month, the first thing I thought of was, “who did he leave behind so suddenly?”

What we leave behind is often the group of people (and even pets) wondering how to keep going. The game plan was in motion but it’s now shattered. What are they supposed to do now that you are gone? Polson died on Jan. 13 while fighting a fire in an abandoned north city building. His company had responded to a fire, and the roof collapsed while they were inside, taking Polson’s life and injuring another firefighter.

Certain things can fuck with you, even if they have nothing to do with you. Outside of a future emergency call to my area or a chance encounter at a Schnucks, I would probably never meet Benjamin. But if you live in St. Louis, you know when a public servant dies, the city pays respect as a whole. There are two different occasions this town is painted red: a Cards game at Busch or dozens of city fire trucks lining up the streets. Heroes retired proudly and properly, gone too soon but never forgotten.

Whenever tragedy strikes, even far off from your home, it always gets me thinking about those complex tiny thoughts we usually discard upon arrival. Why is it that certain people get a big chunk of time on this rock while others do not? A question posed in an underrated 2020 George Clooney film, “Midnight Sky,” started the interest level in the different sets of years that people get on this planet. Please, for the love of good bourbon, leave god out of it.

If you believe in the fictional man up on a hill upstairs, making all these rules and allowing terrible shit to happen, go ahead and my opinion of you won’t change. Several people in my family invest a lot of their faith in him and that book—but I jumped off that ship after catholic school. Everyone relies on something a little hokey to get by in the cruel badlands of life. I get it.

No offense, but it’s just all a bunch of bullshit to me. An early, early draft of government power that included this almighty being rising from the dead (this isn’t a Marvel movie) and giving grace while importing all these rules on everyday societal… what the fuck?

Take a look around. What part of a young man like Polson, with so much more time to live on this planet, has to do with big G.O.D. up there? Why did he have to go? Please, don’t enlighten me because that ship already sailed.

This life is led by choice and chance. Take or leave it, but that’s the way it is. And it can hurt.

There’s no reason for a parent to bury a son who isn’t even 35, but that’s becoming the trend around here. Forget No Country for Old Men; how about No Country for Young Men. Polson was a respected firefighter who followed his retired firefighter Captain father into the field. Someone who decided not to just work another job, but instead take one on where lives could be saved.

In some weird multiverse of a city we live in here, I feel like I lost a St. Louis neighbor. I didn’t know him yet but I am sure many others did and loved him. The size of his funeral spells out the answer.

Maybe I am just rambling on here. There’s a reason this website has that name. Some things just can’t be polished and gift-wrapped into one succinct explanation. Young death is one of them. There will never be an explanation for a life lost, much less one carrying a youthful imprint.

Rest in peace. His name was Benjamin Polson.