 The
Vigilance
Voice
Dec. 12,
Wednesday, Ground Zero Plus 92
BLESS THE ANGELS WHO
FIGHT DESTRUCTION
There is a statue of a
fireman kneeling in sorrow and great pain parked on the a busy street of
New York City. It is a painful statue, full of sorrow and
angst for those the "heroes of the moment" could not save. It is a
tribute to the 343 firemen who died in the September 11 Terrorist attack,
and a salute to all the brave police, emergency and fire personnel
throughout the nation who risk their lives daily for others.
I took my three-year-old granddaughter by it the
other day. I wanted to get some pictures of the sculpture
which sits on a trailer against the curb on busy 8th Avenue close to Times
Square. It faces South toward where the Twin Towers once speared
magnificently upward toward the heavens. Now, there is a blank in
the sky, only a faint memory of what was a signet of America's wealth and
power.
In a peculiar set
of circumstances, the 2,700-pound statue was being held at JFK for its
final leg to its destination to the Firefighters Association of Missouri
when the Terrorists attacked the World Trade Center. After the
attack, Matthews International, the foundry that designed and built the
bronze statue, donated it to New York City. They agreed to construct
another one for the Missouri Association, which was in harmony with
Matthews about donating the statue.
As
the
smoke
pillared
up
from
the
wounds
of
the
World
Trade
Center,
the
statue
stood
in
solemn
vigil,
looking
down
at
the
site,
a
reminder
of
the
pain
and
sorrow
suffered
by
those
who
saved
thousands
that
day.
In
the
history
books,
only
the
total
number
of
dead
will
be
remembered.
For
Pearl
Harbor
that
number
is
2,403
--the
brave
who
died
on
December
7,
1941
in
the
holocaust
of
the
Japanese
surprise
attack.
The
World
Trade
Center
final
count
is
not
complete,
but
the
number
is
over
3,000,
but
being
adjusted
each
day.
Few
will
see
the
statistic
listed
in
the
history
books
of
the
25,000
people
who
escaped,
thousands
owing
their
lives
to
the
quick
and
professional
guidance
of
the
firemen,
police
and
emergency
workers
who
were
at
Ground
Zero
to
sacrifice
themselves
for
others.
While
the
statue
exhibits
the
sadness
of
a
man
in
pain,
it
also
radiates
the
glorification
of
life
for
many.
In
my
own
case,
the
police
and
firemen
forced
a
group
of
us
away
from
the
burning
building
where
we
stood
with
mouths
open
as
bodies
flung
themselves
out
of
the
burning
structure.
As
the
fire
raged,
the
firemen
and
police
drove
us
down
a
narrow
street,
distancing
us
from
the
building.
Then,
a
moment
later,
one
of
the
largest
edifices
to
freedom
in
the
world
collapsed.
Debris
smashed
everywhere
where
we
had
once
stood.
I
know
the
power
of
remembering
not
the
pain
of
those
that
weren't
saved,
but
the
gratitude
of
the
thousands
who
were.
I
was
one
of
them.
 |
My granddaughter also knew intuitively
something only a child feels about the firemen, the police and emergency
workers. Normally, she is shy and reserved about going up to things.
It is an instinct children who grow up in New York City quickly
learned--it's called caution. However, she fearlessly walked up to
the statue and immediately reached up to touch the hand of the 6-foot by
6-foot kneeling bronze fireman--as though she felt his pain and sought to
give him solace.
Along the side of the statue, which sits on
8th Ave on a trailer bed until more permanent housing can be allocated for
it, is a tableau of police, emergency workers and firemen.
Each is doing his or her job--saving the innocent, the helpless. The
artist who designed the piece was wise to depict the firemen and police
and emergency crews saving the most precious commodity any nation has--the
children.
Again, my granddaughter walked to the
tableau and reached up and touched both the young girl the fireman held in
his arms, and the young boy the policeman was keeping in the "safe zone."
I wondered what thoughts were running
through Sarah's mind as she peered up at the relief and saw the Sentinels
of Vigilance protecting the children from harm. I realized
more deeply at that moment that we, as a nation, forget to remember that
the key front-line of our security as a nation is in the hands of our
local fire and police, whether we live in a town of 10 million, or a
community of a few thousand. They are true Sentinels of
Vigilance, keeping their eyes and ears open twenty-four hours a day to
protect us from all forms of harm.
 |
Terrorism's goal is to strike fear, intimidation and complacency in the
hearts of those it attacks. There was none of those elements
radiating from the statue. I saw the opposites--courage,
conviction, action.
More importantly, I saw my
grandchild's fearless reaction to the statue. It was as though the
statue wasn't made of bronze, but of flesh and blood. I
wondered if my granddaughter could feel the spirit of life in the
statue--if she knew it was alive and not just cold metal. Her
investigation of the metal was through touching--as though she knew she
was safe and secure in a city noted for its paranoia, its caution, its
hesitation.
I hoped there was a communion between the
two. I wanted to believe, as children do, the spirits of the
343 firemen, and all the police and emergency workers who perished that
day to save tens of thousands, were as alive as my granddaughter suggested
they were by her affection toward the cold metal.
Semper Vigilantes, I thought. "Always
Vigilant." Yes, the Sentinels lived! They stood watch over the
children, their parents, and all who were within their watch.
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Go To December 11:
"Playing Terrorists And Indians"
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