Stayin' Alive

 

Shortly before 6 pm on Saturday, September 11, 2021, Margaret accompanied me to the Boardwalk at the 16th Avenue Beach in Belmar so she could, herself, bear witness to the beauty that is the 9/11 Memorial Run.  Tim Mahoney's labor of love, which has happened without interruption for twenty years, and which shall undoubtedly go on in the same way for as long as Tim Mahoney has anything to say about it, drew a bigger crowd than it has for any of the half-dozen or so prior iterations of it in which I had been a participant.  It was a sight to see.  

After reading a number of the names of the 147 souls murdered on September 11, 2001 who had been born in, raised in, or who had been living in Monmouth County at the time of their death, Tim Mahoney led the assembled walkers, runner, and cyclists - in silence - south along the Belmar Boardwalk into Spring Lake.  

We traveled silently to the September 11 Memorial in Spring Lake, which is located on Ocean Avenue, and where on Saturday night a new addition was unveiled.  There, Tim Mahoney read aloud the names of those from Spring Lake Heights and Spring Lake killed on September 11.  Their number included Paul Keating of Spring Lake is one of the 343 members of the FDNY killed at the World Trade Center on September 11.  This year, due in no small part to the incredible efforts of one of his brothers, a new monument was unveiled, the design of which incorporates a piece of a steel beam from the World Trade Center.  So, when those participating in the Memorial Run reached the Spring Lake September 11 Memorial, there were a couple of hundred people already there, awaiting our arrival, which coincided with the unveiling. 

 

Spring Lake September 11 Memorial 

New monument - unveiled September 11, 2021

Photo Credit:  Adam Kenny

From the Memorial, we crossed back over Ocean Avenue, and onto the Spring Lake Boardwalk.  We continued our journey in silence on the boards, which silence was punctuated by interludes of joyous noise in the form of people standing on the front porches and balconies of the homes, restaurants, and B and Bs that weave the tapestry of Spring Lake's oceanfront properties, many of whom applauded and cheered as our procession approached, reached, and continued on past their location.  

Upon reaching our final stop, we gathered on the sand and on the boards, where Tim Mahoney completed the reading of the names of those from Monmouth County who had been killed twenty years earlier.  Thereafter, people added names of their own to the roll call, whether someone they knew or someone of whom they had heard who had also been killed.  Those who had not yet placed an American flag and/or a flower did so at the temporary memorial that graces this part of the beach at this moment every September. 

Margaret and I were on the boards, almost but not quite directly above the memorial.  At the event's end, which this year featured a surprisingly on-key rendition of "God Bless America", we bore witness  to something of such exquisite beauty I feared that the tear in my eye might have blurred the photograph, ruining it.  

I was relieved to see that it did not. 

I, like Forrest Gump, am not a smart man but, like him,  I too know what love is.  And if I ever forget, I need only to look at this photograph and this little girl and I shall remember. 

-AK 

Bridging The Distance Between Then & Now

Spring Lake New Jersey September 11 Memorial

-September 11, 2021

Photo Credit:  Adam Kenny and Sam I Am

Slightly less than twenty years ago, on September 20, 2001, President George W. Bush addressed a Joint Session of Congress and the Nation.  Having heard President Bush's speech given yesterday at the Flight 93 Memorial, I was struck by what he said.  It caused me to go back and re-read the text of his September 20, 2001 remarks (you can read the full text of his speech here), which made me reflect upon just how right he was, both twenty years ago and twenty-four hours ago.

Great harm has been done to us. 

We have suffered great loss. 

And in our grief and anger 

we have found our mission and our moment.

Freedom and fear are at war. 

The advance of human freedom, 

the great achievement of our time 

and the great hope of every time, 

now depends on us.

Our nation, this generation, 

will lift the dark threat of violence 

from our people and our future. 

We will rally the world to this cause 

by our efforts, by our courage. 

We will not tire, we will not falter 

and we will not fail.

It is my hope that in the months and years ahead 

life will return almost to normal. 

We'll go back to our lives 

and routines and that is good.

Even grief recedes with time and grace.

But our resolve must not pass. 

Each of us will remember what happened that day 

and to whom it happened. 

We will remember the moment the news came, 

where we were and what we were doing.

Some will remember an image 

of a fire or story or rescue. 

Some will carry memories of a face 

and a voice gone forever.

"Address to Joint Session of Congress and the Nation"

September 20, 2001

President George W. Bush

Twenty years ago, we all found -- 

in different ways, in different places, 

but all at the same moment -- 

that our lives would be changed forever. 

The world was loud with carnage and sirens, 

and then quiet with missing voices 

that would never be heard again. 

These lives remain precious to our country, 

and infinitely precious to many of you. 

Today we remember your loss, 

we share your sorrow, 

and we honor the men and women 

you have loved so long and so well.

For those too young to recall that clear September day, 

it is hard to describe the mix of feelings we experienced. 

There was horror at the scale -- 

there was horror at the scale of destruction, 

d awe at the bravery and kindness that rose to meet it. 

There was shock at the audacity -- 

audacity of evil -- and gratitude 

for the heroism and decency that opposed it. 

In the sacrifice of the first responders, 

in the mutual aid of strangers, 

in the solidarity of grief and grace, 

the actions of an enemy revealed the spirit of a people. 

And we were proud of our wounded nation...

In those fateful hours, we learned other lessons as well. 

We saw that Americans were vulnerable, 

but not fragile -- that they possess a core of strength 

that survives the worst that life can bring. 

We learned that bravery is more common than we imagined, 

emerging with sudden splendor in the face of death. 

We vividly felt how every hour with our loved ones 

was a temporary and holy gift. 

And we found that even the longest days end.

Many of us have tried to make spiritual sense of these events.

There is no simple explanation for the mix of providence and

human will that sets the direction of our lives. 

But comfort can come from a different sort of knowledge.

After wandering long and lost in the dark,

many have found they were actually walking, 

step by step, toward grace...

And we have seen growing evidence that the dangers 

to our country can come not only across borders,

but from violence that gathers within. 

There is little cultural overlap between violent extremists abroad

and violent extremists at home.  But in their disdain for pluralism,

in their disregard for human life, in their determination to 

defile national symbols, they are children of the same foul spirit.

And it is our continuing duty to confront them...

In the weeks and months following the 9/11 attacks,

I was proud to lead an amazing, resilient, united people. 

When it comes to the unity of America, 

those days seem distant from our own. 

A malign force seems at work in our common life

that turns every disagreement into an argument,

and every argument into a clash of cultures.

So much of our politics has become a naked

appeal to anger, fear, and resentment. 

That leaves us worried about our nation

and our future together. 

I come without explanations or solutions.

I can only tell you what I have seen...

This is not mere nostalgia; 

it is the truest version of ourselves. 

It is what we have been - 

and what we can be again.

Twenty years ago, 

terrorists chose a random group of Americans,

on a routine flight, 

to be collateral damage in a spectacularact of terror.  

The 33 passengers and 7 crew of Flight 93

could have been any group of citizens selected by fate.

In a sense, they stood in for all of us.

The terrorists soon discovered that a 

random group of Americans is an

exceptional group of people. 

Facing an impossible circumstance,

they comforted their loved ones by phone,

braced each other for action, 

and defeated the designs of evil. 

These Americans were brave, strong and united 

in ways that shocked the terrorists - 

but should not surprise any of us.

This is the nation we know. 

And whenever we need hope and inspiration, 

we can look to the skies and remember.   

"Address at the Flight 93 Memorial"

September 11, 2021

President George W. Bush 

-AK 

Twenty Years Now

 

"No Day Shall Erase You From The Memory Of Time"

Virgil  (National September 11 Museum)

Photo Credit:  Jin S. Lee

Twenty years ago, on a morning with a sky so blue and so bright that it almost appeared to go on forever, the trajectory of the lives of countless people and the trajectory of America was inexorably altered.  If you were alive then - and old enough to remember what life in America felt like before September 11, 2001, then you are old enough to understand what is meant when someone speaks of "pre-9/11" and "post-9/11" America.  

If you were alive then, and old enough to remember the events of that terrible Tuesday morning and the mornings that followed immediately thereafter, then you are also old enough to remember that for what proved to be far too fleeting a moment we did not view each other through the prisms of "red" Americans / "blue" Americans or "conservative" Americans / "liberal" Americans.  We were simply Americans.  We were occupants of the same big canoe, paddling together in unison and in the same direction, honoring our unspoken and unwritten vow to look out for one another. 

 

We were not a people of cancel culture or faux outrage.  We were a people who had taken a body blow, whose number included those who had suffered grievous, irreparable harm, and who went to bed on September 11, 2001 knowing that time was too precious to waste bickering over imagined slights and fabricated grievances.  We lived in a world where those who hated us not only vowed to kill us, they fulfilled their vow. 

Two decades removed from the murderous events of September 11, 2001 we must not only never forget those who were killed that morning, and those who have died since due to that day's events, we must also remember who we were and where we stood in the hours, days, weeks, and even months that followed.  We honor the memory of those who died not merely by speaking their names aloud or writing remembrances to them.  We honor their memory by being the best version of ourselves that we can be and by being good to one another.  

May those who suffered a personal loss on this very day twenty years ago feel at least a modicum of peace, grieving an eternal loss and salving a wound that shall never completely close.  May those of us blessed enough to have not suffered such a loss continue to do our best to honor not simply the memory of those killed on September 11, 2001 but also to honor the lives of those they left far too soon and who have had to battle on through their day-to-day without them every day thereafter.   

Never forget.  Not today.  Not tomorrow.  Never. 

-AK 

May He Forever Be His Mother's Son

Tomorrow is the 20th anniversary of the September 11 attacks.  For those of us blessed enough to not have been personally devastated by that day's events in that no one we loved and no one who loved us died that day, tomorrow is "that day" on the calendar.  For those who were far less fortunate, those whose life's trajectory was forever altered by the murder of a loved one, every day for the past twenty years has been "that day".   We must never forget.  They never can.  

Eight-year-old Kevin Villa at the funeral of his mother,

Yamel Josefina Merino on September 14, 2001

Photo Credit:  Stephen Schmitt/The Journal News

Yamel Josefina Merino was a rock star.  The 24-year-old single mom from Yonkers, New York earned her GED after her son, Kevin, was born and began working at MetroCare Ambulance when she was just 21 years old.  Her colleagues adored her.  Her positive demeanor and her compassion for those she helped won the admiration, affection, and respect of her co-workers.   

In less than three years, she had earned her EMT certification from Westchester Community College and had worked her way up from MetroCare's transport division to the 9-1-1 division.  She was the MetroCare EMT of the year in 1999.  It was her goal to become a nurse.  

On the morning of September 11, 2001, Yamel Josefina Merino was one of the first responders to arrive at the World Trade Center.  She volunteered to go into the towers while her partner remained behind with their ambulance.  She was helping people who had evacuated the South Tower just outside of the building when it collapsed.  She was killed while doing that which made her feel most fulfilled, which was helping others.  

Yamel Josefina Merino gave birth to Kevin when she was just sixteen.  Theirs was a relationship forged out of shared hardship that made their successes taste all the more sweet.  She had taken Kevin to Walt Disney World that summer, celebrating just how far they had come by spending some quality time at the Happiest Place on Earth.   

Yamel Josefina Merino, EMT

End of Watch:  09/11/2001

Kevin Villa is now twenty-eight years old.  He is older now than his mom was when she was killed twenty years ago.  He misses her every day and does what he can, every day, to honor her memory and to deal with her absence.  He shall never stop loving her.  He shall never stop missing her.  He shall never forget her.  

We owe it to her memory and to his life to make sure we do not forget her either.  Not today.  Not tomorrow.  Not ever.  

-AK 

 

The Brothers Langone

Firefighter Peter Langone, 41, was the driver for FDNY Engine Company 252 in Bushwick, Brooklyn.  He was a rescue specialist and was a senior member of the house, available to dispense wisdom and to instill discipline in his younger colleagues.  He loved what he did. He excelled at it.  He was a man whose face you hoped to see when you were at your most helpless and most vulnerable.  His acumen and his attitude calmed you and reassured you that everything was going to be okay.  

FF Langone and his wife Terri were the proud parents of two daughters, Nikki and Karli, who were just nine and five respectively.  Peter Langone loved his "girls".  Terri, Nikki, and Karli were familiar faces around the firehouse and he loved spending his time off with his wife and daughters.  

Prior to serving and protecting the people of New York City as a member of the FDNY, which he did for the final fourteen years of his life, Peter Langone served and protected the people of New York City as a member of the NYPD.  He also served and protected the people of Roslyn, New York as a member of that community's volunteer fire department.  One of his fellow Roslyn volunteers was his younger brother, Officer Thomas Langone of the NYPD's ESU Truck 10.   Officer Langone was an eighteen-year veteran of the NYPD, during which time he had responded to tragedies including the bombing of the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma in 1995 and, closer to home, the first World Trade Center Bombing in February, 1993.  The latter brought the brothers together as both responded to the World Trade Center on that cold, dreary February afternoon, and helped save lives.  

Officer Langone and his wife JoAnn had two children, Caitlin and Brian, who were twelve and ten years old, respectively, in September 2001.  He loved spending his time off with his family, including traveling on family vacations.  

FF Peter Langone and Officer Thomas Langone each responded to lower Manhattan on Tuesday, September 11, 2001, because it was the part of their city on that terrible day in which their assistance and their expertise was most desperately needed.  That morning, as they always did, the Brothers Langone gave all they had to save the lives of strangers.   It was what they did.  Neither knew any other way.  

Three hundred forty three members of the FDNY were killed at the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001.  Twenty-three members of the NYPD died alongside them.  Peter Langone and Thomas Langone were among those brave first responders who died that morning, having laid down their own lives and having sacrificed the chance to watch their children grow up and to grow old with their wives to save others.  It was the Langone Way.  It was nothing short of extraordinary...

FF Peter Langone FDNY & Officer Thomas Langone NYPD

Photo Credit:  Handout, Newsday.com

...and neither were the brothers.  

-AK 

A Saint in the City

The Poet Laureate of Freehold cautioned many, many years ago it's so hard to be a saint in the city.  Hard?  Yes.  Impossible.  No.  

At least not according to Tom McGowan.  

Tom McGowan met and fell in love with his future wife, Stacy (Sennas) McGowan, when they were both students at Boston College.  She was not merely beautiful, smart, and a dynamo on and off the athletic field (Varsity Lacrosse and Class President (all four years) at Nyack High School and Varsity Lacrosse at Boston College), she was simply a genuinely good human being.   Tom described her as, "warm and giving and happy and funny, proud, strong, and graceful."  If one shall possess seven distinct attributes, those seven are pretty damn good ones to possess.  

Stacy McGowan spent two years in London working for a French bank after she and Tom got married.  Her career continued on an upward trajectory when the couple returned to the United States, where she ultimately joined Sandler O'Neill, first as a Vice-President and, thereafter, as Managing Director in charge of the equities trading desk.  She was in her office on the 104th floor of the South Tower of the World Trade Center, among those souls trapped when United Airlines Flight 175 impacted the building between its 77th and 85th floors.  

At the time of her death, Stacy McGowan was just 38 years old.  She and Tom were the proud parents of two little girls, Ryan and Casey, who were just five and four years old respectively at the time of their mom's death.   Tom McGowan, speaking of his wife, said, "I never met a saint, but this girl certainly was a saint." 

Stacy Sennas McGowan

Photo Credit:  Voices Center for Resilence

-AK 

Together Until The Darkness Lifts

Stay with us yet a little while, 

We know as well as you your pain.

Walk with us just another mile,

And then, another mile again.

-"The Offering"

David Egan 

David Egan and his wife, Elizabeth, raised three children.  Their son, Brendan, was their only boy.  Long before he grew up to be a United States Marine, he served as the bridge between his sister Lisa, two years older than he, and his sister Samantha, five years his junior.  The seven-year-gap in age between the Sisters Egan did not affect the closeness of their relationship.  Speaking to the New York Post about her daughters on the second anniverary of the September 11, 2001 attacks, Elizabeth said, "Lisa was one of those little girls who always wanted a baby sister, and when she got one, that was it.  And Samantha always looked up to her." 

Lisa Egan graduated from Fairleigh Dickinson University, playing on the women's basketball team as an undergrad and earning her MBA in business administration before her career took her to Cantor Fitzgerald in 1997, where she worked on the 104th floor of One World Trade Center as a Human Resources Administrator.   In mid-2001, she scored her little sister, Samantha, a job at Cantor Fitzgerald too, as a Personal Assistant in the Finance Department.   Samantha worked near big sister, Lisa, on the North Tower's 104 floor.  

In a horrible, unimaginable blink of an eye on a Tuesday morning twenty years ago, these two wonderful young women, who had been joined metaphorically at the hip since Samantha's birth not quite a quarter-century earlier, were murdered by the cowards who hijacked American Airlines Flight 11 and weaponized it by flying it into the North Tower of the World Trade Center at 8:46 am, impacting the building between its 93rd and its 99th floors.  

Their father, David, believes that his daughters spent their final moments as they had spent so many moments, together, taking comfort in and drawing strength from one another.   "They would have been seeking one another immediately.  It would have been the first thing in their minds.  I know they are together." 

Samantha Egan and Lisa Egan 

On what tragically turned out to be the final Mother's Day Lisa and Samantha celebrated with Elizabeth, the sisters gave their mom a gift on which they had collaborated:  a photo album of their moments together.   In an effort to apply salve to the impossible-to-heal wound to his heart that the brutal murder of both his daughters, David Egan began writing a collection of poetry, which collection included "The Offering", a portion of which is excerpted at the top of this essay.   As they should, the final words of this piece belong also to David Egan...

I cannot tell you when the darkness lifts

Nor when the burden that does press 

Upon your heart shall find relief.

Nor can I tell you when the grief

Which fills your every waking hour

Shall pass itself unto a higher power. 

So if you can but spare yourself a while,

Come sit with me or walk with me a mile. 

-"The Offering"

David Egan

-AK