Without Feathers

I think there’s an allegory in this picture, but I’m not sure what it is.

Six years ago this morning I walked by the Fire House at Amsterdam and 66th, just as I had many times before. Over time I had gotten to know the men of Engine 40 and Ladder 35 a bit, so when I saw 35 parked in the street and 40 stopped half way out of the house, I waved at the familiar faces.

Ordinarily, my greeting would have been returned by waves, smiles and “good mornings” but this day was different. A couple of the men waved back, but there were no smiles and no salutations. There was no distress nor dread nor fear, just earnestness…a seriousness about what would soon be at hand.

I knew already that an airplane had hit the North Tower, but reports were that the damage was relatively minor (a small commuter plane was believed to be the culprit) and there would be few injuries because the floors hit were undergoing renovation and therefore, empty. I knew from the seriousness of the firefighters that the reports were not entirely accurate.

A few moments later the sirens sounded. Engine 40 and Ladder 35 whoosed past me on the way to the West Side Highway. I waved one last time. 11 of the 12 brave men on those two trucks would never return to their house on Amsterdam Avenue.

Almost a month, in fact, and it’s fair to ask why you should continue to visit this blog if I’m not going to keep up my end of the bargain. The closest I can come to an excuse is that I’ve been working on three other blogs — no, I’m not being snide.

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