About 3 weeks ago, I attended a funeral for a man whom I considered to be a friend. Maybe not the closest friend, but still, a friend nonetheless. That man was Larry Sullivan, from FDNY Rescue Company 5, in Grassmere.
At this funeral, bagpipes were played, flags were flown and the masses stood at attention and saluted.
It was a scene that was all to familiar to not only myself, but especially the residents of Staten Island. While some may choose not remember that day, eleven years ago. I, along with many others, remember it well. It is a day that is literally burned into our memory. It is a day where I saw my city, my home, my family, my friends attacked without reason.
It is a day I cannot-and do not want to forget. I could dwell on the horror, and I will admit, sometimes I do, even eleven years later. Things like that don't leave your mind. Sometimes, when I close my eyes at night, I still see that one burning building standing. It was a sight so alien to me that I still can’t comprehend it. I see it belching thick black smoke, then I blink, and it too is gone, becoming one with the cloud that surrounded it. Sometimes I still smell it too. And that for some reason has stuck with me just as much as the images have. It was a smell unlike any other. I suppose the best way to describe it is gunpowder mixed with something…and everyone knew what that something was, but no one wanted to say it.
That eerie silence overtook us for a while. It was almost louder then the explosions that created the day. I could remember the terror, the fear, but I choose not too, because amidst the chaos, something remarkable happened. A different kind of explosion, a new kind of fire. It was the fire of determination.
Determination to pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off and help one another. Being a New Yorker, hell, being a Staten Islander suddenly carried more of pride then it ever had before. We all saw the images. People digging with buckets, people waving flags, offering blood, water, food, anything to rescue workers. Those people did not ask to help. They just did it. Others saw that and followed suit.
And so can the rest of us. That has to be what we take away from that day, not horror, but human compassion. We don’t need an attack or a tragedy to help people. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard, “it takes a tragedy to bring us together.” It honestly makes me angry. We are a good people, we always wish to be, we shouldn't need a horrific event to bring us together.
A lot of people wait until this time of year, then they start
waving flags and yellow ribbons and “never forget” banners. Then a week
or two passes and what happens? They forget. The cynicism returns, and it makes me angry. You don’t have to mourn
every day, but for crying out loud, be a decent human. That’s what I
think the true meaning of “never forget” should be, that’s how it should
resonate.
Maybe i'm just a blue eyed dreamer who believes that superheroes can walk among us, albeit in the form of real people, but thats a hope that I believe everyone should cling to, if for nothing else then to teach us that somewhere, deep inside us, lies that primal urge to do good for no other reason then us simply realizing its morally correct.
Whatever happened to just helping someone who dropped a book or holding a door open for someone just because it was the right thing to do? What about smiling at someone who is having a bad day? Small things in theory, sure, and it might not be the same as helping at a disaster site, but you can be damn sure that the person you helped will appreciate it, at least a little. People on this island, hell-on this planet very often like to talk a big game and act tougher then they truly are. Instead putting on this act, how about we all step our game up, become decent humans, and let that be the true face of the world?
Its not about religion, its not about politics, its not about whos gay or straight, its about doing whats decent, about being decent. Being a friend. One of the good things I can take away from that time was the friendships I either rekindled or begun, and ones I still cherish.
So instead of spending this time mourning, go be a friend, to anyone, they'll appreciate it. It may turn into something excellent. George Washington once said, "True friendship is a plant of slow grow, and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation." That is what the day should be about, friendship and compassion. That is how you honor those you loved and lost. They'd appreciate it. I know I do.