Wednesday, September 11, 2013

12 Years

It's been 12 years since the madness of the attacks on New York and Washington on Sept. 11. The nut who started the mess has been found and killed - as have thousands of others, many not in any way connected to the events and some even born after. In my cosmology, he'll have to account for this in a new order; others think we'll all just have to continue to pay a price in this one for his decision.

12 years makes things seem so far away. I'm listening to the FDNY and PANYNJ audio of the event today, but it still has a feeling of a different world, almost like a fiction read in a book. I know it's not. I finally visited the site of the Twin Towers in June and paid my respects at the memorial. A month ago we had an instructor from Rockland County in for training and he spoke of his time working with Andy Fredericks at the county training center.

It is a different world, structurally and mentally. We are all worse for it. I think inside those of my friends who were adults or adolescents at that time are more nihilistic, but outside we just pretend all is well and nothing has changed. Innocence lost. Not so much with my kids, but at the same time they deal with the ripples of that day: bags are checked everywhere, flying isn't fun like it was, violence in places unthinkable and off limits seems easier. I don't think they have the same doom in the back of their mind I have, but they'll have to deal with this brave new world.

I listen to the end of the innocence. I think of the souls in those planes and firehouses and towers and the Pentagon. I think of them in the hour or half before all this happened, getting on their flights for their adventure, having coffee, shuffling reports and tossing out old newspapers to make room for that day's issue with the latest on the Chandra Levy case or how the tax refund checks were doing.

Today I'll do what I do to remember those not here to enjoy life: I tip a shot of whiskey and down a beer for those brothers, medics, cops, office workers, bystanders, and naval and military personnel who can't anymore. As my friend Pete mentioned, also all those lost in the wars and attacks that followed...


Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Agitate! Agitate! Agitate! - F. Douglass

Being a Historian*, I was excited about all of the connotations associated with the election and inauguration of Barack Obama as our 44th President. For me the most interesting was the linear connection to the Civil War-era. The mid-nineteenth century was a revolutionary time. It was a period of great immigration both from abroad and by people moving from farm to factory. What we call Evangelicalism was maturing in churches along with a developing social gospel. The drive for women's rights was getting steam. And, of course, there was the movement for the abolition of slavery that culminated in our Civil War.

The abolitionist movement predates the Civil War, of course, and was not limited to the United States. Thomas Clarkson, William Wilberforce, and others in Great Britain succeeded in not only abolishing slavery in their kingdom, but in creating an international agreement against the slave trade which was enforced in great part by the Royal Navy. Here at home the Tappan brothers became organizers and financial supporters of the abolitionist cause. Their work was extended by William Lloyd Garrison in the 1840s who published The Liberator from Boston and founded a network of hard-core abolitionist societies (mostly) across the northern-tier states. But the culmination of the movement was led by a self-freed former slave, Frederick Douglass.

Douglass was born into slavery on an Eastern Shore Maryland plantation. As a "house slave" he was taught (illegally) to read and went on to teach other enslaved Negroes as opportunity allowed. Working for various owners and lettors, Douglass would make his freedom when he was twenty. Borrowing papers from a free Black sailor he made his way to Philadelphia and eventually to New England where he met William Lloyd Garrison who encouraged him to speak before local anti-slavery meetings. Through his speaking tour in 1843 he became acquainted with the leaders of the fledgling women's rights movement. This would eventually lead to him selecting the booming city of Rochester, New York, where Susan B. Anthony and other activists lived, to be his home and the location where his own newspaper would be printed - the North Star.

From the bully pulpit (to borrow a later term) of the North Star and its later incarnations Douglass advocated for freedom for enslaved Blacks and for their full inclusion as citizens. Rochesterians would on occasion shout down meetings of Douglass and his ilk, especially as southern states threatened secession in response to abolitionist agitation. But I am unaware of him ever being in any physical danger in this town and indeed it was nearly universally accepted in the area that the institution of slavery was unjust. Douglass worked unceasingly in Rochester, calling for freedom for the enslaved.

When the threatened secession did occur in 1861 and civil war became a reality Douglass pressed for the acceptance of Black troops to serve in the state and national forces. His aims were to not only have Blacks aid in the war against rebellion and to directly fight against slave-holders, but to prove their capacity as citizens and "earn" the rights white men enjoyed. Officially put off, there were here and there regiments that accepted them. When "colored troops" were officially accepted by Massachusetts, Douglass's own sons enlisted, one as Sergeant-Major of the 54th Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry.

His desire for equality was partially realized at wars end with the passage of the 13th, 14th, and 15th Amendments to the Constitution. This also caused a bit of a falling out with his friend Susan B. Anthony, for Douglass became quiet on the demand for equal rights for men and women to gain rights for males regardless of race. Consensus has since become that rights are to be considered to be equal for all Americans, male and female, white or black or otherwise, period. But, it's taken us a long time to get there and the rights are less secure because they are not declared in the Constitution. I say that Douglass's desire for equality for the people of his race was partially achieved because there continued to be both codified and customary discrimination against people of color by Whites until recently. The Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s enabled the ending of the codified racial discrimination and has led towards the cessation of racial discrimination in thought and deed as so well called for by Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., in his "I Have a Dream" speech.

Getting back to the theme of the day, I see the inauguration of Barack Obama as a direct result of Frederick Douglass's agitation for equal rights beginning in the 1840s, reaching a crescedo in the Civil War, with the struggle to hold the gains continuing until his death in 1895. His writings and speeches, his calling on politicians and people of influence, his offering of his sons for sacrifice on the battlefield, his personal risk of re-enslavement and injury or death as he spoke out - all of this work set the stage, enabling a man of color, Barack Obama, to be elected and sworn in as President of the United States of America.

Watching the inauguration I suddenly felt compelled to visit Douglass's grave and pay tribute to his work. Even though I'd lived in his chosen hometown for nearly my entire life, I'd never seen his grave site. I knew it was located in Mount Hope Cemetery, a city-managed one which is very accessible, and a quick look at the cemetery's website showed me that I had driven past his grave many, many times. So, making my way through town in light snow, I first visited a flower shop across from the cemetery to buy some few carnations to place at the monument stone and drove into the cemetery proper.

While the signs were all covered with snow, his grave was actually easy to find (especially after seeing the map, earlier). I couldn't tell if I were the first there that day - the traces of snow-covered footprints made a clear, neat path to Douglass's resting place and I could see some sort of ceremony had taken place, but whether today or as part of the previous day's remembrance of Martin Luther King, Jr., was uninterpretable. But, I was there alone and it was obvious no one had been there for at least several hours. So, in solitude I laid down the flowers and prayed a prayer of thanksgiving that God had provided Frederick Douglass to goad the nation's conscience when we needed it. Before I left a man with some dogs joined me. He came directly to see the grave, also, and noted when he saw me that he wondered whether anyone would be there to visit.

At least we two did.





This is a photo of the monuments that mark Frederick Douglass's grave. The flag was already there when I arrived. I cleared snow off the monuments and placed the red bundle of flowers that you see behind the flag. Perhaps it was coincidence that it stopped snowing and the sun came out as I came upon the grave.











*At least as defined by the Secretary of the Interior; under the standards I can't claim to officially be an Archaeologist even though I spend more time doing that than straight history.

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Old Friends

Back in my youth, before marraige and kids and when I had time to hit the road whenever and to wherever, I used to follow some bands from New England. One of them, Letters to Cleo (and here), I eventually became friends with, probably because I was the only nut in the early '90s who would drive all day to Boston to catch a show and then drive home afterwards (that's an 800 mile round trip). Anyway, the band members went on in their careers and I ended up not being able to take trips on a whim. The last time I saw any of them was about 10 years ago when they were still together and stopped in town while on tour.

Last month another friend who I got hooked on the band sent out a post with the Kay Hanley's blog. Lo and behold she and Stacy Jones, the drummer, were going to be in town as part of the Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus tour - Kay singing backup and Stacy, who produced the Hannah album, in the band. Their sched was tight that weekend to begin with, and mine only left me some time Sunday morning to try and find anybody. Then there was the huge winter storm that weekend which never really got huge but did leave things a mess. Would it be worth it to try to drive downtown on unplowed roads, find a parking spot, and try to find them? I was doubtful.

Still, I really miss these guys. It's not like I exchange holiday cards with them, but for about six years I really did stump promoting them outside of New England. Kay and her now husband Mike dragged me to their apartment after one show so I wouldn't have to drive back that night, and they'd let me stay in rooms if I followed them on tour. I have tried to keep up with all their projects and lives through our friend the internet, so even without the face time all those years I still wanted to let them know they were still in my thoughts. What better way to do it then to brave winter and the odds to find them?

I gotta say, I managed to develop some good "fan" senses during my groupie days. Found their hotel easy enough (this isn't that big a town) and even caught sight of Kay as I showed up from across the street when the tour was clearing out of the hotel and boarding the buses! I tried shouting to her but I'm thinking everyone was having a bad morning. The bus driver gave me a polite cold shoulder telling me that "once the kids get on the bus I'm not allowed to let them off." On a tour that size and that crazy I believe it.

I still wanted to talk and catch up with them and had a few more hours before I had to get ready for work, so I walked to the back of the local arena where the crew's buses and set trucks were parked. Feet wet, I stood in the cold, wind, and snow, directing out-of-town fans to restaurants, talking to crew, homeless men, and the other odd folks you find behind those places and trying to justify to myself and anyone watching why I was standing around at a pre-adolescent setting.

Finally, the buses did come, more waiting, and then the band and singers and dancers started leaving the buses by ones and twos to get ready for the show.

Stacy was the first I got to talk to. Honestly, I didn't know if anyone would remember me. I had hung with them years ago, but in a lot of ways it felt like even longer. That phrase "a lifetime ago" was feeling very real. But Stacy was all, "how've you been," "great to see you, again," "are you going to be around for the show?" Now I was bumming I didn't take the night off work (not that I could have that weekend). Stacy went in to set up. and I waited for Kay.

Kay finally came out with bandmate Jamie (I have no idea what his last name is!) and I called obnoxiously for her to cross through the slush over by me. Not that she could miss the bright orange coat I was wearing in case my truck went off the road (it keeps me safe when I'm doing roadside archeology). She looked tired and suddenly my mind went blank. I had a hundred questions in my mind about how Michael, her husband, was, her kids, her family and friends in Boston, her career, how she like the tour, how she liked working for Disney... Nada. She was sweet enough to ask about my kids and what was new with me - and I really didn't say anything. Maybe it was the cold - I'd been standing around in slush for over an hour. Maybe I geeked our. Don't know, but I did know she needed to get in out of the cold and I had a hell of a ride home (death defying : ) ), so I gave her a hug and told her to be safe and say hi to Mike for me.

Very deflating.

But I'd do it all over again. Seeing people even for a few short minutes every 10 years was 100% good. All the coulda, shoulda, woulda, doesn't outweigh how I would have felt if I hadn't busted a move to even say hi. I think what pain I feel is that these opportunities are so few and far between. Wish they weren't.

On the way back to my car I passed the hotel again. Miley's bus was still there with a small crowd waiting for her and a lone cop standing in the snowbank to keep the order.



Miley working the audience with Kay a few hours later...

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Cub Scouts are us.

After nearly 40 years, I have recently reentered the world of Cub Scouting with my son's entry into a local pack and den. Since I figure the boys are going to be involved in this sort of thing for a long time I decided to jump in as an Assistant Den Leader. I chose assistance over actually full fledged den leading because there was already a den leader for my son's den and I'm going to be going through this for a long time. I've seconded guessed that decision a few times.

One of the key points in Cub Scouting is for the boys to have fun. FUN. and MORE FUN! This is something I need to remind myself of a lot. Watching six children who are not my own attempt to hijack a meeting that is going over their head can often lead a leader into forgetting that the meeting is for the kids, not the adults. Order is nice, and important, but to expect constant order is pretty silly. That said, it is also important to keep the meeting on the kids' level and not waste the kids' time.

I'm noticing that having an agenda, and a Plan B for a lot of things is really important. Also important is not trying to do something that you don't have time to do in the hour you're with the kids and parents. Taking home stuff to do or completing a project at the next meeting is OK as long as you have next meetings (lack of meetings is an issue in our den). But it's also important to let the kids have some time to socialize with each other before and after the meeting. Right now it's the dark part of the year and the while the parents want to hibernate the kids are even more wound up from being stuck in school during all the good daylight playtime hours. I suspect that as the Den Leader and I practice our jobs and the days grow longer things will smooth out.

Can't wait.

Friday, September 7, 2007

9-11 time, again.

Having severe OCD issues, this time of year I start reviewing information I've gathered about the the emergency response to the attacks on the Twin Towers. Several of the instructors at the firefighting school I went to in the '90s were from FDNY, and while no one I knew personally was on duty that day several other firefighters and instructors I knew through reputation were and lost their lives. There's a practical side to my obsession (at least I like to think some good can come from it), and that's to analyze who did what where and why. What did the first responding units find? Where were they sent? Why was this unit or that unit parked or tasked or staged wherever? So, I save stories from survivors, newspaper articles about conditions in the building, and try, try, try to find photos taken before the second collapse. The latter has become something of a fools errand.

Google locates scads of sites dedicated to showing that the 9-11 attacks were a home-grown conspiracy. The number is astonishing - I can't imagine the manhours it took to create these sites, not to even go into the postings and responses on fora. It is mindboggling to consider what could have been accomplished had the time and creativity been spent in something a bit more useful.

Fortunately, I did come across at least two sources when I searched "wtc1 'command post.'" One was the McKinsey report for the City of New York which looked closely at response and command issues:
http://www.nyc.gov/html/fdny/html/mck_report/index.shtml

The other is the compilation of work done by the National Institutes of Standards and Technology:
http://wtc.nist.gov/pubs/
In addition to what is listed there, Google revealed some PDFed PowerPoint presentations used at different Project meetings. (Research subjects were divided into "projects;" i.e. Project 7 was Occupant Behavior, Egress, and Emergency Communications. There are eight projects to wade through.) Searching through Google using the phrase: "project 7" site:wtc.nist.gov will reveal Project 7's material. There are also presentations from conferences. Most notably one held in 2005 can be found using the search: "wtc" (and/or "towers")site:wtc.nist.gov/WTC_Conf_Sep13-15/session# (#=1-8)

The latter led me to a collection of photos taken by John Labriola. Mr. Labriola was employed by the Port Authority and took photos on his way to work on the 71st floor of WTC1 (the north tower - first one struck, second to collapse). As he evacuated he met firefighters on their way up at around the 35th or so floor and fortunately (IMHO) began taking photos once again. Some of his collection is at the Smithsonian Institution's site:
http://americanhistory.si.edu/september11/collection/record.asp?ID=62

Some different shots are posted here:
http://tampabaycoalition.homestead.com/files/0911FirstMomentsPics.htm

I'd be remiss in not mentioning the oral interviews conducted by the city that are available from the New York Times':
http://graphics8.nytimes.com/packages/html/nyregion/20050812_WTC_GRAPHIC/met_WTC_histories_full_01.html
along with recordings of some of the emergency communications.

However, this Port Authority recording from their much maligned repeater holds much more detail than what the city reluctantly released:
http://www.thememoryhole.org/911/firefighter-tape.htm

My wife, Colleen, asked my why I do this every year. I told her it was just in case I had to deal with something like it. Why lose all those lessons learned at so high a price?

This rainy September 11 will be spent in honor of the murdered the way I spent that sunny day six years ago. I'm going to ignore the news and play with my kid.