Jim Giberson: Gentle
Giant
Neighbors
of Ladder 35 on Amsterdam Avenue and 66th Street in
Manhattan grew to count on seeing the Paul Bunyanesque
figure in the firehouse doorway with his baseball cap,
bushy mustache and always, a friendly smile.
They did not know him by name, but just as the one who
would hoist their would-be firefighter toddlers into the
rig, or lean down and with his oversized hands help
adjust the handlebars of a bicycle.
To his colleagues, Jim Giberson was the one who
organized and cooked for all their annual parties over
the last 20 years. But as much as Mr. Giberson, 43,
seemed so comfortable in that traditionally all-male
environment, it was a different story at home.
He told his wife Susan when they became engaged that
he wanted three daughters, and she obliged. The only
reason he ever missed firefighter events was to go to his
daughters' swim meets, no matter how far, where he
cheered them on as they became champions, or as he liked
to say, future Olympic contenders.
I used to kid him, "You'll never be able to get into
the bathroom with all those women" said Mike Kutula, a
fellow firefighter. "But he was happy with his three
girls."
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