Words cannot describe the destruction inflicted upon lower Manhattan. As a member of the Volunteer Fire Department in my community, it was my honor to go down on Thursday and Friday (Sept 13th and 14th) and help with the rescue effort.
I wish I could tell you that I performed some heroic feat and single handedly saved someone. But I did not. Myself and four other members of our fire company went down into the depths of the devastation. We had no idea what we would find, what we would do or how long we would stay. We did know that we would stick together and make sure everyone was always accounted for.
When we got to the scene of this horrific attack, we couldn't believe what we saw. Undaunted, we checked in with the Command Post and went to work clearing the debris. The "Bucket Brigade" as we are now known as.
The task seemed infinite; how can we possibly clear all this? Little by little, bucket-by-bucket we started to actually see West Street below our boots. People with food and water and dry clothes were constantly coming by and asking if we needed anything.
I have never been so proud to be a New Yorker, and an American. People working side-by-side, regardless of age, nationality, race, occupation, religion and social standing. Everybody working together to achieve a common goal.
I wondered, "Why does it take this type of disaster to unite everyone? Why can't we be nice to each other all the time? Will people go back to their old ways in 6 months?"
My wife tells me that I am a hero for going down and helping dig through the rubble to help find survivors and victims. I don't feel like a hero. I'm just helping my fellow man. That is the way my parents raised me.
As many of you know, my Dad passed away on May 3, 2000. Almost 4 years to the day from when he suffered a massive stroke that doctors told us would end his life within a week. That man was a hero, a fighter! He never gave up!
Eight months after returning home from hospitals and rehabilitation he told us he wanted to come to Synagogue on Friday nights, We would sit in the comer by the door. I couldn't tell you what he was thinking each Friday, but I was thinking "Thank You G-d for giving me another day with my Dad." When he came for the High Holidays that first year, Rabbi Stem came over to him. My dad was still in a wheelchair and the Rabbi welcomed him. Rabbi Stern said that he would pray that my Dad would get well. My Dad said, "No, pray that nobody else will get sick!". We vowed that the following year he would walk into the Synagogue on his own power and open the Ark. He did!
This is just one of the many lessons I have learned about G-d, the fragility of life and myself in coming to Arden Heights for over 25 years.
The true heroes in this disaster are the firemen and police officers who went inside the Twin Towers following the attack. They died trying to save lives. And the people who work at the Pentagon. When they were evacuated, they made their way onto the highway and away from the building. Someone yelled that they needed help. What did these people do... they ran back towards the Pentagon.
And finally the heroes of heroes; the people in the plane that crashed in Pennsylvania. There is no doubt that they saved thousands of lives in the most unselfish act imaginable. I had the privilege to meet a couple from Alabama. They are volunteer Firefighters. They closed up their office and drove up to New York to help with the efforts. More heroes!
As Jews we have seen first hand what hatred and bigotry can lead to. Now everyone in the world knows what we have known for much too long. Maybe now we can live together in peace, regardless of our religion or color; as fellow Americans, fellow human beings.
May G-d bless each of you and your families with a happy and healthy New Year. And may G-d Bless America