Occasionally Coherent

Note: I have had many blogs over the years. My earliest was started in 2001. That original blog was horrible. I wrote about things like staple removers. Really. It was awful. But occassionally I wrote a few good ones. This was my best. It comes from September 16, 2001. I republish it today for obvious reasons.

My father, before he passed away in 1977, was a fire fighter. While I certainly remember nothing about my father, his choice of profession has had a large affect on my life. This may be because it is one of the few things that allow me to understand who my father was as a person. Legend has it that at one point he was the youngest Chief in the state of California, but he resigned because he didn’t like the administrative position. He preferred to serve as a Captain.

My first career choice, before Astronaut, Actor, Writer and Computer Programmer, was to be a fire fighter. A common choice for young boys. (It’s the trucks. I mean, the trucks are way cool.) I had the assistance of real props. In the bedrooms my brother and I shared in various apartments and condominiums throughout the early years of our lives, we always had two fire helmets hanging on our walls. One of them was yellow with a plastic face shield. Every time I wore that helmet I was a fire fighter. I have distinct memories of wearing one of my father’s old fire fighter coats along with the helmet from time to time. I could never get over at how heavy it was. I can smell it even still.

Of course at that age I had little appreciation of the magnitude of a fire fighter’s duties and obligations. I mainly liked wearing the helmet. As I got older I began to understand that my profession of choice was a profession of honor. To this day I cannot think of a more honorable profession that anyone can pursue. I mean these guys are Professional Life Savers. No, Professional Heroes. It is their job to put the lives of common citizens ahead of their own. What? There might be people inside that burning building? We’re going in. That fire might burn down someone’s home? We’ll block it’s path. In your entire life how many times have you done something so selfless as these people do on a daily basis? By now, you have probably heard it said many times but it was said long before Tuesday and I have been saying for nearly fifteen years; what most people run away from, these heroes run toward.

I suppose it is this level of admiration that brings me to brink of tears every time I hear about the death of a fire fighter. You can imagine how I felt on Tuesday when I heard that over 300 were missing and feared dead. (Do not let my previous feelings about fire fighters cause you to believe that I was any less devastated by the loss of the other Emergency Services personnel who gave their lives.) Before that day the most NYC had lost in one day was nine. Nine! A devastating number itself. But dear God, three hundred of my heroes all at once?

Did they know what they were running up into? Of course not. Did they know that it was something they had never seen before? Absolutely. Did they know that some of them might die? Definitely. Did they hesitate? No way. They were doing what they always do running toward untold danger to save the lives of their fellow citizens.

Tuesday night I was watching a news conference with Mayor Rudolph Guiliani (the world now knows why a city of 80% Democrats elected that Republican twice), the Commissioner of Police (who’s name I’ve forgotten and have not been able to track down) and the Fire Commissioner, Thomas Von Essen. (Thomas, coincidently, was my father’s name.) At one point a reporter asked Essen which high ranking people the Fire Department had lost. Essen stepped to the podium from outside the shot of the camera. He looked exactly like what he was; a man who had just experienced the worst moment of his life. He was visibly devastated. He then said that the department had lost Peter Ganci, the Fire Department Chief, William Freehan, the First Fire Deputy Commissioner, and Father Mychal Judge, the department’s chaplain.

The same reporter then asked Essen how that made him feel. I will remember his answer for the rest of my life. Essen answered by telling the world how great these three men were during their lives. It was a brief but beautiful recounting of each man’s love for and dedication to the Fire Department of New York. He never stated how he felt. All we had to do was fathom that three great, life long public guardians had been snatched away in a moment’s time. We knew how he felt. To some degree, we felt how he felt.

There is no doubt that the deaths of these three men and the other three hundred men and women with whom they served was a horrible tragedy. The sheer magnitude of the number lost is enough to shake anyone’s faith in God, humanity, even life itself. But we should remember that unlike the rest of the victims killed in Tuesday’s attacks, with the possible exceptions of the passengers of United 93, these men and women did not die senseless deaths. They died while they were saving the lives of their fellow citizens. I am sure that their biggest regret was that they couldn’t save more. I am tempted to say that they died during they’re finest moment. Yet, I know that every hour they were on the job was their finest moment.

We should never forget this past week. We should never forget these fine men and women who gave their lives so that others might live. But we should also never forget their comrades who remain ready to risk their own lives in defense of our own.

I remember 9/11 for all the victims, but especially for NYC’s bravest.