And Sorrow: So Many Irish Names At Ground Zero Ceremony
From Irish Echo
September 18-24, 2002
By Ray O'Hanlon
The pipes and drums of the city's Emerald Societies had heralded
They had marched through the night from the boroughs of Staten
Island, Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx and from the northern end of
By the time the sun was casting long shadows between the downtown
towers the footsore musicians had led the way to Ground Zero, pied
piper-like, for thousands who had come to memorialize, to pray and
to hope for better times ahead.
It was a year to the day. A very quick year.
It was a few degrees warmer in New York City last Wednesday morning
than it was on Sept. 11, 2001. More humid, too.
But as the solemn commemoration began the wind began to pick up.
It blew strong from the northwest. The temperature and humidity
dropped and apart from the rising gusts it could have been the very
day that all had gathered to remember. A pristine fall day. At least
everywhere else but here.
Here, in this sorrowful place, the rising wind blew great clouds
of dust from the concrete-lined canyon where once the Twin Towers
reached seven stories deep in search of a lasting foundation, and
a hundred stories high in search of earthly success that was always
more than earthbound.
The stronger gusts spawned a thunderous noise every time they hit
the public address microphones. The roaring sound did not stop the
reading of the names of all who had died in this place.
There were names hinting of every corner of the globe. And names
that spoke of Ireland. So many Irish names among the rollcall of
2,801 dead. Gallaghers, Ryans, Kellys and Kennedys, Macs and Os,
Ahearn, Talty. Timothy Stackpole, a hero firefighter twice over.
Father Mychal Judge. Uncannily, the name of the fire department
chaplain was read out at virtually the moment of the hour that he
had died. The moment when the south tower fell.
On and on went the list. It was so long that the schedule of the
memorial ceremony fell behind by close to an hour and a half, or
roughly the time span between the planes striking the towers and
the great buildings falling to earth.
The musical program turned full circle, Barber's "Adagio for Strings"
taking to the air with the dust twice. "Danny Boy" on flute floated
The reading of names was not continuous. There were moments of
silence at the four points on the clock that matched those of each
plane hitting a tower, and when each tower collapsed.
Each was preceded by ringing church bells and ships' sirens: Sounds
designed to alert and sounds that were a call to prayer.
The final moment of silent contemplation at Ground Zero came at
10:29 a.m., the minute of the morning when the second tower had
The silence was breached by the sound of fire trucks screaming
down nearby Broadway on an emergency call. Some winced at the sound
and many hearts beat faster.
The morning's commemoration, which included New Jersey's Gov. Jim
McGreevey reading strong-voiced from the Declaration of Independence,
was only the beginning of a day of religious services and commemorative
In the late afternoon, President Bush arrived to meet with relatives
of the 9/11 victims.
By evening, politicians from around the world, gathered in the
city for the opening of the United Nations General Assembly, convened
just south of Ground Zero for a sunset ceremony in Battery Park,
a swathe of green amid downtown's forest of steel and concrete.
Irish Foreign Minister Brian Cowen was among them. He spoke afterward
of the setting sun being a symbol of a settling of a sense of determination,
resilience and hope over the wounded city.
Together with Mayor Michael Bloomberg, the visitors took part in
the lighting of an eternal flame.
It was a fitting end to a day when the millions who call New York
City home paused to remember another day when eternity came calling
from a sky so blue it could only have been the doorway to heaven.
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