Children of the REAL Jersey Shore
(Now with MORE zeppoles!)
Barefoot Parenting
(Pants ARE optional!)

September 11, 2010
The Names Continue

9-11

Originally published for the Imperfect Parent September 11, 2008 -- republished here, as the reading of the names continue -- I will never forget...

This time last year, my dear friend, Dana Tuske (who also is a columnist here at the Imperfect Parent) asked me if I would consider being one of her guest bloggers at The Dana Files and I was very honored by the compliment.

Until, her next email and I scanned down until I found my name on the blogging schedule -- on September 11.

Riiiiiight.

I can’t believe that it’s been 7 years, but I remember how terribly frightened I was -- living just across the bay from the World Trade Center in New York City -- with my two oldest already in elementary school and me home, alone, with a toddler and a two month old.

So, I sat down, stared at my laptop (pretty much like I’m doing now) then, closed my eyes and just listened.

Here’s what I heard:

There’s music playing -- its rhythm is slow and solemn, like the beat of a broken heart -- a moment of silence breaks into the sadness, as the hour turns dark and the names of strangers are carried on the wind.

I hear them all and try to focus on every syllable -- but, I cannot watch.

Voices are broken -- shattered to pieces and lost among the tears -- but, I listen and try to ignore the pain, fearing the smallest interruption in thought as nothing less than an injustice.

There are so many names -- male, female, officers, citizens -- a bell tolls, as they continue remembering and move on in the alphabet.

They are only on the letter B.

Someone is speaking now -- remembering her brother and his wonderful barbecued chicken -- the family never stops thinking of him. Every day. Every month. Every year. They miss him.

A man is speaking of community, now.

He quotes that “No man is an island,” -- how appropriate and terribly sad -- the names keep coming. On and on they are quietly read by friends, lovers, sisters, brothers and colleagues.

I think I see their faces.

A mother begins to cry and I feel as if I can’t hold on, any longer -- my head is starting to hurt -- but, I continue to listen, to imagine and to mourn.

They’re on the letter C, now.

The same surname has just been read four times and I can’t help and think -- I hope they weren’t related. But, then again, it doesn’t matter. They are joined together, now. In eternal peace and in memory.

Another fire fighter is remembered -- and another -- so many!

The names are beginning to run together -- another fire fighter and brother -- but, I listen and wait for, well, I don’t know what. The goosebumps to stop, perhaps?

Please, stop.

Oh God, this man is assuring his friend -- a police or port authority officer, I think -- that he is missed and that his wife is doing a wonderful job of raising their baby, now much more grown and still loving him.

I think of my youngest child -- two months old, at the time -- and how scared I was for her, my three year-old son, and my two oldest daughters. I remember calling their school -- they were in kindergarten and first grade -- wondering if my babies were safe and needing to hold them.

Later, the children were released -- the teachers wearily handing off each and every one -- we stayed behind to be sure that everyone had someone to hug.

No one could speak.

The skies turned quiet and I can still remember the strong smell of death -- it is beyond disgusting -- as the nightmare unfolded not too far from our own backyards.

We drove to the waterfront -- as so many of our neighbors did, that day -- and the skyline looked positively alien. What was once bright and shiny, was now black. Nothing more than that. Not much has changed.

They are on the letter D, now.

I hear the music, again -- but, having grown accustomed its quiet lull -- it doesn’t hurt so much, now. No peace, though. Still. I want to forgive. But, will never forget.

September 11, 2001.

The names continue.

© 2010 This Full House Blog / This Full House Gone Shopping

© This Full House 2003-2021. All rights reserved.
comments powered by Disqus