Brooding Cynyc: 9/4/16

Tuesday, September 6, 2016

A RANDOM MORNING IN SEPTEMBER 15 YEARS AGO

FOR THOSE WE KNEW,

FOR THOSE SAVED,

FOR THOSE WE LOST

THESE WERE OUR TOWERS

AND THIS IS HOW THEY SHOULD BE REMEMBERED

THE BROODING CYNYX HAVE NEVER AND

WILL NEVER POST ANY PHOTO OR IMAGE

OF THE WTC TOWERS FROM 9/11.

IT HAS BEEN AND ALWAYS WILL BE OUR POLICY

TO USE ONLY PHOTOS THAT

PORTRAY THE WTC AS THEY WERE AND,

AS FAR AS WE ARE CONCERNED,

OUGHT TO BE RECALLED

(September 2, 2016 120 Cedar St, NYC) There are many shadow in this neighborhood; these narrow streets are among the oldest in our City originally cobble-stoned by the Dutch settlers who purchased Manhattan Island from the Natives for a pittance. The narrowness of these shadowy canyons shouldn’t let anyone assume that the buildings that block the overhead sun aside from a few brief minutes each noon are inconsequential. This is just one border of the famed World Financial Center with the “catchall” Wall Street, as the heart and soul of commercial finance, banking and trading. Here, on Cedar Street is O’Hara’s an old time NYC “Irish Pub” in the classical sense of the term. It’s a fine place for a power lunch or for happy hour Monday through Friday; dinner is as good but the joint closes around midnight. For a Manhattan bar O’Hara’s is almost an unheard of oddity but it is common for establishments in this part of Town that rely on the “Wall Street Cro

Between the end of lunch and before the after work rush of commuters wedging a few quick drinks before heading out to the suburbs and home, this is a bar that knows how to treat a single patron. Good drinks at a fair price, bartenders who actually know how to tend bar while delivering fine service for the lone drinker. On this first Friday of September, a month many of us had come to dread, we met here for a few cocktails and to catch up. Some of the cohorts had long since retired; others of us were still On The Job. This early September gathering had become an annual ritual that began in 2002. It began casually enough but has persisted for 14 years. After a few drinks, a couple of bad jokes, and some plain old bullshit small talk the conversation shifts and becomes focused; an individual set of memories that are at least collective in their experiencing, that craft the images, sights, sounds, smells, tastes, loss and anger into a cohesive telling of that which can only be told by those able to tell it. This is not a conversation for outsiders and the memories given voice will never be heard by ears that did not hear what this small band of comrades did on that painfully clear Tuesday morning, that day of infamy, September 11, 2001.

Next Sunday will mark the 15^th year since the terrorist attacks on our City, Towers, and Country. The events of that day and the immediate aftermath have altered the passage of time for some. In ways the time since then has been elongated by the continued sense of sorrow and loss. In other iterations time has been compressed as survivors have watched children grow and mature; perhaps humans never again undergo a more important 15 period of their lives. Humans go from newborn infancy to the adolescent threshold of young adulthood in the first 15 years of existence; from complete dependency to a rebellious stage as they attempt to find some measure of independence. No matter how you cut it, 15 years is a long time and the fact that for many families of the 9/11 deceased, these past 15 years have been a disorienting trek. It is for this reason, if no other, that it is vital to keep our memories of those prematurely taken alive and vibrant.

Our small cadre of greying MOS knows the gravity of remembrance. It has become a duty, a Sacred Duty at that, to keep the memories of those we lost alive. Not in the hyper-sensational portrayals of bumper sticker slogans and “Salute To Heroes” banners. No, our Sacred Duty is to the men and women we knew, men and women some of us depended on for our lives over the years before 9/11. That day was not an aberration, it was not in any way unusual. Every day before and since 9/11 MOS respond to the calls that come in; the incidents, the conflicts, the response to the injured, wounded, trapped, suicidal, victimized, scared, and every other scenario under the Sun the men and women of the FDNY, FDNY EMS, NYPD, and PAPD respond and render the assistance they are able to. The rest of the United States and the media made a large fuss about the unselfishness of our MOS. What they failed to recognize is that, initially at least, no one among those who responded know the nature of the disaster nor the scale and scope of the calamity that followed in short order. All MOS where simply doing their job; yet merely by being who they were, who we are, and what we do, that was just another “day at the office” until we learned otherwise.

And “otherwise” it was; an egregious assault on us as Americans in general and New Yorkers in particular. But we all rose to the challenge from the brawniest MOS to the most slender office worker, we rose to the challenge of an event that we had no way of realizing just how much our world would be changed once we escaped the highly pressurized, noxious-fumed fires of Our Towers. And make no mistake about it; they were OUR TOWERS…Bless all who perished, all who survived, and those left to mourn unconscionable death…

Sunday, September 4, 2016

9/11/01: 15 YEARS GONE BY

SEPTEMBER 1st BEGINS OUR OBSERVANCE

OUR SEASON OF GRIEF AND GRACE

THE TIMELESS BEAUTY OF OUR TOWERS AND LADY LIBERTY.

THIS IS THE IMAGE TO REMEMBER WHEN RECALLING THE WORLD TRADE CENTER

NOTE: IN PLACES IN THIS ARTICLE WE USE THE TERM MEN AND OTHER MASCULINE DESCRIPTORS. THIS IS NOT MEANT TO

IGNORE WOMEN, IT IS EMPLOYED MERELY AS A WRITER’S DEFAULT USAGE FOR “PEOPLE”.

WE ALSO USE THE TERM “GOD” AND THIS IS MEANT TO REPRESENT NOT ONE GOD BUT WHOEVER ONE

MIGHT CONSIDER AS A DIVINE DIETY, HIGHER POWER, THE PROPHET, SAVIOR, OR ANY OTHER

“SUPREME BEING” NO MATTER WHO ONE WORSHIPS OR NOT.

TAGS: WTC 15 YEARS GONE BY, 9/11/01,

GRIEF AND SORROW, ANGER AND FRUSTRATION,

NYPY, FDNY, PAPD MOS,

ALL VICTIMS LOST

(September 1, 2016) Across all major religions of the world including Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Judaism, and Islam, there occur times in the calendar year designated for particular observance. Some are preludes to Solemn days of remembrance; others times for sacrifice, fasting, atonement, and repentance. In Roman Catholicism the seasons of Advent and Lent are times to prepare to mark transcendent events such as the Birth of Christ on Christmas and Lent that ends with the triumphant rising of the Lord Jesus from the bondage of mortal death respectively. Those of the Jewish faith observe Yom Kippur ; members of the Islamic faith have Ramadan to get their spiritual house in order. The practice of religious observances occurring over a proscribed finite time period is as common among the various denominations and faiths as is the article of faith that teaches the truth of a Higher Power as master of the cosmos and humanity.

Over the course of the past 14 years many of us have struggled seeking our own meaning in the time marked from September 1^st until September 11^th. The pain and anguish from that September 11^th in 2001 has not been lifted from our consciousness although in many regards, as a sheer survival mechanism the routine of the days and weeks, the months and seasons can help keep our darker emotions at bay. But once September lands, when we turn that calendar page, and catch the first glimpses of the coming Autumn in New York; that vibrantly clear pastel blue of a cloudless sky, we feel the initial stirrings of the next 10 days, the days that are both a commemoration and remembrance; celebration of lives lost, sacrificed, and saved as well as survivor’s existence forever altered. Yes, that season is upon us once again and with it comes the rekindling of the rawest of our emotions and memories, our collective efforts and individual experiences and it is these that demand our attention while we ought not “self-censor”. There is no timeframe for grief; no proscribed period of mourning or sorrow. Repressing whatever emotions are stirring within today will likely find other means to be heard.

FAITH: TRIED AND TESTED, LOST AND FOUND

The old adage that says “There are no atheists in a foxhole” speaks to people who find themselves confronting a scenario where their survival is not at all guaranteed. Be it overtly acknowledged or not, most of the Members of Service (MOS) of the FDNY, NYPD, and PAPD have some degree of a religious/spiritual beliefs. There is a long and storied history of the Irish and Italian MOS whose adherence to much of the Roman Catholic church doctrine is expressed as members of various groups and organizations such as the NYPD and FDNY Holy Name Societies, and many others. Cops and Firemen live with the omnipresent specter of their own mortality which seems to strengthen an individual’s faith; faith, not necessarily being a “practicing” Catholic for example, but rather a personal understanding of and a relationship with a Higher Power.

Among the casualties of that September 11, 2001, was, for some, their faith. Amid the good fortune for those who managed to escape the impending twin collapses that transformed our majestic towers into 110 story death traps, many prayers of thanks and gratitude were expressed, as even more fervent prayers were offered for the missing. Despite the sincerest prayers anyone could beseech, for the families of over 2,600 victims, their God answered “No”. Prayers of hope suddenly turned to raging anger to the God of their beliefs. A sense of betrayal infected some and, even today, for many that infection has never been eliminated.

One of the most essential beliefs that spans across all denominations is that God has a plan; a very specific plan for each of us and that He has no intention of sharing it with us. This is the article of “blind faith”; a version of faith that is meant to provide succor and comfort in the face of the most horrendous sorrow. A newborn child enters the world with a malignant brain tumor. How could this be part of any sort of a “plan” allegedly crafted by a loving and merciful God? Of the hundreds of FDNY MOS who entered the Twin Towers that morning 343 did not escape. And this was God’s plan for them and their families? Yes, the questions are unvarnished and accusatory. Now 15 years out from that day many among our community have yet to come to terms with what was supposed to be “God’s Plan” while harboring an anger of epic proportions. Yes, the events of that miserable day strengthened the faith and resolve for many thousands and it also broke the covenant of their faith for many thousands more. It is ok to be angry but, it is also sad in many potent ways. It is particularly treacherous for a person who once knew faith and has lost it. But this is understandable.

AMAZING GRACE…AGAIN AND AGAIN…AND AGAIN

The sounds of the Celtic highlands, the bleating bagpipes accompanied by drums sound particularly crisp and clean as they rebound off the stone facades that line the route of the annual NYC St. Patrick’s Day Parade. Both the FDNY and NYPD have their own Pipes and Drums organizations. Aside from parades and other official appearances, the Pipes and Drums attend the burial service of every MOS who dies (in most cases and possibility more routinely with the FDNY), be they active or retired.

The wailing of the Lone Piper standing a distance from the family and friends about to commit their loved one to the earth is a powerful and emotional, particularly haunting sound. Just as when “taps” is played by a bugler, these sounds stir the listening soul and evoke memories. The sense of profound lost is carried aloft only to remain as yet another memory of the deceased. For many of us, it is fair to say, we grew to hate the sounds of the bagpipes. We became conditioned to despise the rhythmic beat of the drums. There was just too much sorrow, far too much loss. The funerals seemed to never end; but, as some of the efforts at “The Pile” in the earliest days, we became obsessed with attending as many as we possibly could. Was it some hint of “survivor’s guilt” at play? Where we driven by a strain of “survivor’s remorse”? Whatever the forces propelling us to attend services, wakes, visitations, funeral Masses, would soon be replaced by standing in for and standing up with young brides whose Dads were not there to walk them down the aisle. We stood in at ballgames and birthday parties, Communion and Confirmation rites, and other aspects of the surviving families void, that void left by tragic death.

But, in many ways, it was only right and proper to fill those voids even if only in physical presence, emotional presence. That was all that could be done. The victims’ families were forced to embark on the journey of the rest of their lives minus a Mom or Dad, brother or sister, close relative or lifelong friend. Those are wounds that may never heal despite the passage of time and altering circumstances.

Among the many definitions for the word “Grace” perhaps this one, “a state of sanctification enjoyed through the divine; a virtue coming from God” is the most comforting and it is that touch of Grace that the hymn Amazing Grace seeks to give voice. Yes, Grace saves, Grace heals, Grace can alleviate pain, the scorching pain that no earthly temporal element can soothe. So, here we are, 15 years down the road from the day that put our world atilt. For many the axial rotational has not yet returned to the pre 9-11-01 equilibrium. And so, we can still seek Grace; we can still wander in the shadowed woodlands with a compass that recognizes no magnetic field. It is a choice but, as we have said time and again throughout these 15 past years, there is no timetable. Perhaps it is only in the vague concept of Grace, in just a flimsy sliver of hope that Grace will find its way towards those who not only seek it but truly need it. We survived for reasons that do not include guilt nor remorse. We just keep on keeping on and try to do better today than yesterday.