Remembering Memorial Days Past

Article first published as Remembering Memorial Days Past on Blogcritics.


Memorial Day has always been rather personal for me, and looking back at the day over the years reminds me of what it has meant to my family. Having had family members in the military since the Spanish-American War (1898), I was always around people who served our country in times of war. Their outlook was (and still is for those who survive) decidedly different than those who never wore a uniform or endured life under fire.

My father is a World War Two veteran, and when I was growing up it was not unusual for us to attend a variety of functions at the local Veterans of Foreign War Post (ours was located in Ridgewood, New York). At that time the Post was buzzing with life. There were members from World War I (like my grandfather), World War II, Korea (like my uncle), and even some "young" guys from Vietnam (like my cousin).

The women (my mother and aunts among them) populated the Ladies Auxiliary which not only advanced the mission of the Post, but sold Buddy Poppies to raise funds and also did good works in the community. They also handled the Voice of Democracy Contest that allowed young people to write about freedom in their country every year and receive awards for it.

Every Memorial Day was a big event in my family. My father somehow or other always got elected to walk the route as Uncle Sam. Someone once asked why he would want to hike in hot weather in that get-up, and Dad said that it was better than trudging across a war zone loaded down with equipment. That had to be an answer the "real" Uncle Sam would understand and appreciate.

The parade route was always a sea of American flags being waved up against the blue sky. When I was little I recall standing on the sidelines with my Mom, waiting to see my father marching in his costume. When I got older I stood on the sidelines with my grandfather, and my mother joined my Dad and marched as Lady Liberty. Every year their picture would appear in the local newspaper marching together side-by-side.

After the parade and laying of the ceremonial wreaths at the war monuments, the marchers and their families returned to the Post for a big bash. Pitchers of beer and soda lined the tables, hamburgers and hot dogs smothered in everything were consumed, and music blared all afternoon long. There were so many kids running around, my cousins and I always got a chance to have fun. The pool tables in the basement were a nice attraction too (when we got a little older).

In later years Mom could no longer participate in the parade (due to an increasingly bad case of rheumatoid arthritis), but we continued watching from the sidelines as Dad and my uncle marched. The numbers did thin out each May, with the World War I vets slowly disappearing, and my grandfather passed on when I was 18. That was the start of Memorial Day never being the same.

I remember him talking about life on a submarine during the war. They were forever searching for German U-boats. Of course, this was not a glamorous life by any means. Cramped, dark, and hot all the time, my grandfather still felt he was serving his country and did it and never complained later on. He always said the food was good, and he survived, and many guys were not able to say that.

Years later when I went to the parade with my own children, I was shocked by the depleted ranks. Some of World War II vets sat in cars, but the veteran marchers numbered less than one hundered (when there used to be over one thousand in my youth). Luckily, school bands and other organizations filled in the gaps and it was pleasant to watch, especially the many fire trucks covered with flowing flags and tributes to their own, soldiers of a different type who marched into buildings on 9/11 and never returned.

In the last five years Memorial Day has taken on an added meaning for me because my mother passed away the day after it. So each year I try to remember the good times we had on Memorial Day, and I recall my mother in her healthy days wearing that flowing gown dressed as Miss Liberty. As I picture her torch in hand a smile on her face, I know that is how I wish to remember her on this day.

Yes, Memorial Day has changed over the years, but its spirit remains the same: to honor those fallen in the service of their country. So I'll raise a flag and wave it high in the air this weekend, and in doing so I will be honoring not only all those lost in wars but the families who have lost loved ones.

And somewhere my Mom still carries the torch as she did in life, brightly burning a light through my darkness to illuminate what matters most of all. Thanks, Mom.

Photo Credit: VFW.org

One Hundredth Anniversary of The Triangle Shirtwaist Fire

Article first published as One Hundredth Anniversary of The Triangle Shirtwaist Fire on Blogcritics.

Time has a way of making people forget even the greatest disasters. As the years pass, there are fewer people remaining who actually remember events such as the attack on Pearl Harbor or the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. In terms of disasters, many times the memory is kept alive by survivors or their families and friends. For example, we will mark the 100th anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic next April. No survivors remain, but books and films have long contributed to the continuing of the flame of memory. Indeed, no survivors remain from what was known Triangle Shirtwaist Fire, and that terrible event happened one hundred years ago today in New York City.

At a time when the mayor and governor of New York State both seem to want to lessen the strength of unions (because of what they say are necessary budgetary considerations), the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire is a vivid reminder of why workplace laws and unions were strengthened in the first place. The need for labor laws became magnified by this event, and even the New York City Fire Department began seriously working on fire prevention as part of the necessary and compelling work that they do.

Those of us who remember September 11, 2001, will recall New Yorkers staring up at the sky and watching an incomprehensible event. Besides the fire and smoke pouring out the Twin Towers, many people dropped from the sky to the pavement far below that day. They chose to escape a horrific death from fire and smoke by jumping out windows. The many bystanders witnessed these falls from the sky, stunned by the swiftness of the bodies dropping and the sound of their crushing against the earth.

The Triangle Shirtwaist Fire was the 9/11 of that time, and the cause of the blaze has never been discovered. Many poor immigrants worked in this building in lower Manhattan. It was a Saturday, and the young Jewish and Italian girls working in the shop made female shirts in a business known as the Triangle Shirtwaist Company.

My grandfather who was born and grew up not far from where this fire took place, remembered the incident well. At the time he was driving a horse-drawn ice wagon, and he recalled the commotion and the smoke on the upper floors (actually the eighth, ninth, and tenth floors). Inside the male tailors were using fire buckets ineffectively against the blaze; outside the water from the fire hoses didn't make it up that high; neither did the ladders on the trucks.

Pop remembered many people jumping, their hair and clothes on fire, and he said that everyone on the ground seemed powerless to help those inside. The girls and other workers (200 or more of them) were trying to find a way out. One problem was that there were two small elevators that could only hold a few people at a time; the other was that the escape doors to stairwells were rushed but were either locked or jammed.

Certainly this story is about deplorable working conditions, people trapped on upper floors in tight quarters with no means of escape. Obviously, there were no sprinklers or fire doors or water hoses like we would find in buildings today. All of the things we expect to see in modern skyscrapers developed from the reaction to what happened on this terrible day in Manhattan.

My grandfather recalled having many deliveries to make, and the crowd became overwhelming as more people poured into the area on the heels of firefighters arriving to attempt to fight the blaze. In an effort to make up time and get out before he became trapped, he got his horse to go around the crowds of people and headed away from the scene of the disaster to make his deliveries. "I knew there was nothing I or anyone else could do for those poor people," he said, still seemingly moved by it when he told me many years later.

One hundred forty-six people died that day. The building was supposed to be fireproof (according to the standards of the day) but, just as the Titanic was supposed to be unsinkable, it didn't stop either from becoming a deathtrap. Families of the victims sued the owners of the company, getting little but small monetary satisfaction. Just as the Titanic disaster forced safety changes on cruise ships (like having enough lifeboats for everyone on board), this fire did the same thing for factories. Because of what happened, New York State did enact laws to protect workers in sweatshops like this, and the event would strengthen the push for unions to protect workers and get them health coverage.

The building is still there and is used by New York University today. The Titanic rots away on the bottom of the ocean floor. Both were major events early in the 20th century and were cases of people dying unnecessarily because of poor or nonexistent safety measures. They are also inexorably linked to New York City; one happened right in its heart; the other was bound for our waters but never made it here.

One hundred years have gone by since that day, and hopefully we continue to learn from disasters like these. Still, with a mayor and governor who are looking to cut the strength of unions in this city and state, we have to wonder if this solemn anniversary is in some way not a reminder of a dark past but a grim warning about things we thought would never come again.

Photo Credits: Cornell.edu

Marking the Anniversary of the First World Trade Center Attack

Article first published as Marking the Anniversary of the First World Trade Center Attack on Blogcritics.


Those of us who remember can think of February 26, 1993, as just another ordinary Friday, until we learned of the bombing of the World Trace Center in Manhattan. That night instead of watching my usual Knicks game, I was flooded with images both surreal and disturbing as news reports tried to cover every angle of the attack. I remember seeing the words "Terror at the Towers" splashed across the screen and thinking how could the world have come to this.

This first attack on the WTC, of course, seems nothing more than a footnote in history now, but it should never be forgotten because people lost their lives too. Also, it was a wake-up call that we Americans failed to heed, leading to the more remembered and far more devastating attacks on September 11, 2001.

Perhaps because the response was swift, there was no major loss of life, and the buildings seemed invulnerable after this attack, we quickly fell back into complacency. While New Yorkers especially remember the day, it always seemed like something we did our best to overcome. Even the perpetrators were caught and put on trial and sent to prison, so the story seemed to end there.

But, as we all well know now, the story does not end. Those backers of the terrorists who carried out the attack knew this was the target they wanted, and eight years later they would strike on a beautiful blue sky Tuesday morning and change our city, country, and world forever.

John DiGiovanni, Robert Kirkpatrick, Stephen A. Knapp, William Macko, Wilfredo Mercado, and Monica Rodriguez Smith (pregnant with her first child) died that day in 1993. It could have been many more had the terrorists had their way and toppled one building against the other. We cannot forget these people lost, and it is fitting that when the 9/11 Memorial opens this September, their names will be included with those killed in the 9/11 attacks inscribed in bronze for all eternity.

Many people, including myself, can only wonder why February 26, 1993, didn't do more to shake us out of our collective slumber. Maybe we were too involved in other things, or perhaps it is the way of the world to ignore such events because we want to believe they are isolated and do not affect us personally.

An anniversary is usually considered a happy event, but not in this case here. I didn't know anyone who died in 1993, but I certainly did on September 11, 2001. So did so many other New Yorkers and citizens of this nation. Now we can never forget - ever. As long as we live we can give voice to what that loss did to us, but sometimes I wonder if anyone is listening.

As we approach the tenth anniversary of 9/11, my greatest fear is that we will fall into a complacency as deep as the one after the 1993 bombing. If we allow that to happen, whom do we blame when the next big attack comes?

9/11 was a case that caused most of us to say "Never again." The 9/11 Memorial is going to be a very visible reminder to everyone of what happened, how many people were lost, and a permanent fixture in the American consciousness. My only question is after ten years, how many of us are still saying "Never again," and if we're not, what words will we utter if the unthinkable happens on our soil again?

Photo Credit: ABC News

What Hate Looks Like: NYC Taxi Driver Slashed Because He's a Muslim

Article first published as What Hate Looks Like: NYC Taxi Driver Slashed Because He's a Muslim on Blogcritics.

I knew it would happen; it was not a question of if but when: a New York City taxi driver, Ahmed Sharif, was recently slashed by a passenger because he is a Muslim. You would think that Sharif would be filled with anger, but yesterday on the steps of City Hall he professed love for his city, for his country, and a desire to just live in peace.

Twenty-five years ago Sharif came to the United States from Bangladesh. His dream, like so many who came before him, was to come to here for a better life. Lost in all the hub-bub about the so-called Ground Zero mosque, is the people like Sharif who want to live here because it is supposed to be the land of the free, the home of the brave. Isn't it strikingly obvious enough that people from Muslim countries want to come here, leaving places of oppression for a fresh start in our country? It is a story told again and again over the decades. The "golden door" noted on the base of the Statue of Liberty beckons people from all over the world to seek the dream of freedom.

Sharif was driving his taxi in the city on Tuesday night, working hard to support his wife and four children. All was well until a drunken passenger, Michael Enright, a twenty-one year old student at the School of Visual Arts in Brewster, NY, got into Sharif's cab and asked him if he were a Muslim. Enright then reached around the security partition and stabbed Sharif several times. Somehow Sharif was able to get out of the car, lock the perpetrator in the taxi, and get the police who arrested Enright.

Mayor Bloomberg invited Sharif, his wife, and children to City Hall. Bloomberg gave the children gifts and used the opportunity to talk about Enright and his disgraceful actions. Bloomberg to his credit did not use the occasion to discuss the mosque controversy, but it inevitably came up as a reporter asked Sharif if he felt the attack was because of the mosque situation. Sharif, showing a dexterity for handling reporters that more politicians should have, said, "We didn't have a talk about the mosque." Here's the case of a man who should be angry, should be outraged, but he handled the question well instead of fanning the flames.

Thankfully, Sharif is going to be okay, but the wounds he bears are not solely the responsibility of his attacker. Politicians on both sides of the debate regarding the mosque here in New York City are just as culpable, for they have used this controversy to stoke the fires of their own agendas, regardless of how much that enrages people and makes the issue hotter than furnace of hatred that caused Enright to attack Sharif.

Meanwhile, across the oceans somewhere in a dank and dusty cave, the architects of 9/11 and their minions are huddled around a fire and laughing their heads off. They couldn't have asked for a better gift than to have an American attack a Muslim on the streets of New York. One might say to the other how it would have been better if the cabbie had been murdered. Another might wish for a few more Muslims to be attacked and killed. The more the better for them. Nothing helps them more in their recruiting efforts. Nothing.

9/11 seems long ago now, but for many of us who lost people that day, it is always present. As William Faulkner wrote, "The past is not dead; it's not even past." New Yorkers will never forget 9/11, and no one in the United States should either, but in remembering those loved and lost, we also have to remember the essence of what makes this country great, making it shine like a beacon of hope for everyone else in the world.

We should take a good look at an innocent man like Ahmed Sharif. He is not responsible for those planes that ruined our city, or the mosque that people fear will ruin it too. No, Sharif is just a working stiff; like most of us, he is trying to get through each day, work hard, and get his little piece of the American dream. If someone tries to stop him or others like him from attaining that, then they are not any better than the terrorists who flew those planes on 9/11, but you know as well as I do that we are better than that. Much better. Now is the time to stop and show the rest of the world.

Obstructed View: New Skyscraper Will Alter New York Skyline

Article first published as Obstructed View: New Skyscraper Will Alter New York Skyline on Blogcritics.

The so-called Ground Zero mosque is not the only controversial building be planned here in New York City. There is a threat of a new building to rise very close to the Empire State Building at the site of the Hotel Pennsylvania on Seventh Avenue. Named 15 Penn Plaza, the building will be 67 stories and reach a height of 1,216 feet, bringing it close to the height of the Empire State's top floor. Depending on the vantage point of the person looking at the buildings, 15 Penn Plaza could very well block the view of the Empire State Building or be seen as almost on top of it.

Builder Steven Roth has the support of the City Planning Commission and Manhattan Borough President Scott Stringer, but he is opposed by the owner of the Empire State Building, Anthony Malkin. Also many New Yorkers, including this writer, are against the idea.

Many years ago when I was looking at apartments in Astoria in Queens, New York, the real estate agents were talking about many things: lighting, spaciousness, new cabinets, new appliances, high ceilings, and renovated bathrooms. The one thing though that stood out was when they talked about the "unobstructed view," which meant being able to see Manhattan across the river. All the other things seemed inconsequential if I had that lovely scene to look at every day.

New Yorkers like their "unobstructed views" of the rivers to the east and west, of Central Park, or of the cityscape, most notably the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building. We used to also have this love affair with the Twin Towers, and sometimes I catch myself still looking there for what is gone, and then I sadly remember what happened. New buildings will rise there, and we need and want that to happen. Those buildings will alter the skyline and be seen positively by most New Yorkers.

The city has had one terrible alteration to its skyline in 2001, and this would just be offensive to the aesthetic sensibilities of most of us. On talk radio here in New York, people are sounding off. Many people cite good examples: would Paris allow a skyscraper to be built next to the Eiffel Tower? Would London allow one next to Big Ben? Would Moscow allow it next to Red Square? Would Hollywood allow one to block the view of Hollywood Sign? Obviously it would not happen in any of these cases, so why should it happen here?

Malkin is not in this battle all alone. The Municipal Art Society is opposing the construction, and there is a poll on their web site to allow people to vote in favor of or against this new building construction. At the time I am writing this, 68% of the voters are against the building going up so close to the iconic landmark, and as the word spreads I am certain that percentage will get higher.

After 9/11, I think New Yorkers took comfort in the symbols we had left, and the Empire State Building was an old, defiant friend, a beacon that shone at night and glistened during the day. It reminded us then and still that we are New Yorkers, and we can handle anything thrown our way.

There is a serene beauty to the Empire State Building, a grace that seems to have long vanished from elsewhere in our lives. It deserves to stand tall and proud for all New Yorkers, unobstructed by anything, including the shadow of another building that can just as well be built somewhere else in the city.

 

Out of the Ashes of 9/11: Freedom Tower Is Rising

Article first published as Out of the Ashes of 9/11: Freedom Tower Is Rising on Blogcritics.

When I was a kid, I watched the World Trade Center in New York City being built. I could see it from my Queens rooftop. Armed with a pair of good binoculars, I could catch all the action, and it amazed me to see those two glass and steel marvels rising against the sky.

Of course, the World Trade Center's birth came from a death of the neighborhood that was annihilated when it was built. I do not recall the area because I was too young (ground was broken for the buildings in 1966), but my father well remembers that streets were shut down and over a hundred buildings demolished to make room for the 16-acre site. He even recalls buying a watch in one of the stores that were leveled. Shops, businesses, and apartments were eliminated to accommodate the massive project. The death of a little neighborhood in the big city occurred in order to spawn a complex with the largest buildings in the world (at least for a short time until Sears Tower in Chicago opened in 1974).

The World Trade Center rose in my childhood and dominated my thinking about the city I loved as I became a man. While I had been to the top of the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty, nothing seemed to compare to visiting the Twin Towers or "the Trades" as some people called them. Being in my nascent photographer stage, I took all sorts of pictures of the Twin Towers once they were completed. Sadly, like the buildings captured in those shots, those photographs no longer exist.

The two iconic towers could be seen from almost anywhere in this town, and they immediately became the recognizable symbol of New York City all over the world. Tourists flocked to visit the observatory, take pictures of the cityscape that flowed all around it, and dine in the premier restaurant Windows on the World. After visiting the top of one of the buildings, there was a feeling that you had touched, if not heaven, the closest thing to it in the sky.

I, like so many New Yorkers and citizens of this nation and the world, was left devastated by the attacks of September 11, 2001. Arguably, it seemed that no city had ever been so irreparably altered by an act of war as had New York on that day. While a few loons danced in the streets to celebrate in foreign lands, most human beings on the planet saw this as a terrible blow to not just New York but to civilization as we know it.

Indeed, the World Trade Center had not just been a symbol but a place where people of all nationalities worked and unfortunately many died. I lost a family member that day and two childhood friends, and the loss changed my life forever, as it did the lives of so many others. I was inspired to write a book of fiction in reaction to what happened, and it took me almost a year to even attempt to write it, and then another two and a half years to complete it. I took no pleasure in writing those words, but they ended up being therapeutic for me, and the book stands as something that came out of the horror of that seemingly beautiful Tuesday in September that morphed into the worst day in the lives of so many people.

Almost nine years later there is great noise and activity at the site as it seems that work is truly ongoing to build a new symbol of New York out of the ashes. One does not even have to go there to get an idea of the progress; a live video feed is provided by the Port Authority of New York for anyone to see what is happening there.

If you come to New York City, take the E train to the World Trade Center stop. When I ride the subway today, I cannot believe it is the same train system that I used to ride years ago. It is clean, relatively efficient, and free of graffiti that at one time covered the walls of every car on every line. Tourists who come here for the first time must be impressed by the condition of the subways these days and, quite frankly, so am I.

Once you come up the steps and walk toward the construction site, your view will be mostly blocked by a fence that has been covered with material to keep out prying eyes. If you look above the fence toward the skyline, you can see all manner of construction cranes and hear all the grinding, drilling, and pounding that tells you work is being done.

As I stood there on the corner of Vesey and West Streets, looking at the scene, I couldn't help but tip my head back and remember those majestic towers pressing up against the sky. At that moment a soft rain began to fall, and it seemed fitting that the clouds came rolling in off the Hudson River and cast an ominous shadow on the apparent progress happening below.

I walked away from the scene thinking about my son: his New York City will be one with the Freedom Tower dominating the skyline. He will hear the story about the watch his grandfather bought long ago in a store that had to be bulldozed to make room for the first World Trade Center towers. He will be told about his father standing on a black tar roof and watching with binoculars as the buildings rose toward the sky, and he will learn about 9/11 from his family and in school.

But he will never know what it was like to stand on the street and look up at the Twin Towers, just as I will never know what it was like to walk into a Mom and Pop electronics store and buy a watch in a place that one day would be Ground Zero, a place where time almost stood still for New Yorkers on 9/11.

No, his reality will only include a bright and shining beacon of hope and prosperity: the Freedom Tower. He will visit the 9/11 Memorial, perhaps read his Uncle Steve's name on a wall, and he will walk out into the sunshine and stare up at a skyscraper like I once did and think about heaven.

My wish for him and all our sons and daughters is that they will never forget 9/11 but be able to embrace a future where nothing like it will ever happen again.