9.9.05

Three Hundred and Forty-three

In a few days my daughter will turn 14. The day after 9/11. For her, for my family, for anyone - bare with me if the following words migrate to the realm of non-sense.

We did not create the hate that day, the hate that festered in a religions confused minds. We were only called to duty, a daily duty, one that never sleeps. There wont be any daughters turning 14 for many of my calling. They wont grab-ass in the firehouse with those who they did for many a time. The alarm will ring, the trucks will pull out of the station, and they will ride along, only in spirit.

The turnouts they wore, will hang unfilled, in the locker.

Because of a misguided hate.

We see the best people in their worst moments. There were 50,000 worst moments that day. Not counting the fears, the mind staggering awe of those on the ground. Those at the tube. We who were not there to catch you as you fell. Serving is a great high. Helping the public is a great high.

Hate. Pure evil. Surrounded in a cloak of religious dementia.

Spoon fed lunatics, filled with propaganda; access to the almighty dollar, willing to die.

Die they did.

I can only imagine the nirvana they inhabit now. It has to suck pretty bad, knowing how pissed the brothers of the firehouse must be. Pissed off firemen, 343 of them. Not quite the 700 virgins your religious pontiffs said would be waiting, I bet.

We still go to work. For you guys. For your families. For the public.

Because there is no greater conquest than not quitting. You fucked with us, your demons of hate, focused on our world, our way of life. You will not succeed in your attempts to weakens us. In your hate you have only united us. You wanted us to quit.

Losers.

Your next attempt, we will come to the aid of those innocents you have targeted. You will take some of our loved ones.

They were Loved.

And there, lies the difference between you, and us.

They are still LOVED.

Your hate, has damned you for all time. Your names will not be spoken in hushed tones of gratitude. Not even by your own kind. Because you failed.

You failed, losers.

It didn't work. You didn't accomplish anything but creating heroes out of people who already were.

To their families.

To there fellow firemen.

To the public.

I will not hate you.

I will not let that fungus grow, multiply, and infect my soul.

I have a job to do.

It is the greatest, most unglamorous job in the world.

And it is mine.

Unlike yours, to spread hate, mistrust and violence.

I will spread courage, compassion, and care.

In the days ahead, I will reflect, pay homage, and pray.

I will pray for the guys.

I will pray they are having a cold beer in heaven.

That they are watching over us all.

You lost.

God Bless FDNY, and the families, friends, co-workers of the 343.

Peace.

Aloha.

2 comments:

Jennifer said...

I would not call this the realm of nonsense; perhaps the realm of the collective soul.

Hey - not to get too fluffy here, but did you go see Ladder 49? I was curious when it was released what the firefighting community's general reaction would be. I didn't see it.

Anyway. Good post.

Hats off to firefighters everywhere, Mark.

Playground In My Mind said...

My dad's birthday is tomorrow, too. Happy bday to your daughter. What an age:) Teenage girls. Lots of fun ahead for you, Dad. Good luck. Thank you for fighting the fight. For facing the danger. For being there when people are in such need. Mahalo, Renee