In Memory of: Though you leave this world for another, You will not leave our hearts, Though you drift to a better place, You will not leave our minds, For your passing, Though sad, Will be overcome, And time will heal, The broken souls of a nation, The broken souls of a world. For now we can only say, To yourselves, and those you left, God bless you. We will never forget. ---Phil Rowlands

Wednesday, September 12th, 2001 The station house is so empty today, My father didn't come home last night. The rows of high boots, heavy coats and leather helmets I loved to try on as a little girl, are missing. The other firefighters didn't come home either. The fire trucks my class had their picture taken on are missing too. The big garage doors no longer stand open, waiting for their return. I climb the stairs to the dorm where my father rested on those long nights of duty. I remember how many Christmas nights he spent here, away from us at home. I see in his rush to answer the alarm he tossed his sweater across the bed and kicked off his shoes. I wrap myself in the warmth of his sweater and take comfort from it. As I turn, the forbidden brass pole beckons to me. I am alone and could sneak a slide down it, as I have wanted to all my life. Yet, somehow, I hear my father's voice once again saying, "No little one, only firefighters may slide down the pole". I hear the other firefighters chuckle at my father's words and I recall how they rolled their knowing eyes. The station is so quiet -- the voices of Tuesday's shift now silenced forever. Forever they will echo here. I enter the familar kitchen, where one never knew what would be served. Through heavy tears, I see the breakfast, there was no time to eat. I hear the echoes of laughter, and I know jokes flew at the cook of the day. Over my own sobs, I hear echoes retell stories of fires past. I recall the lives saved by those now missing themselves. I can hear the amazement in their own voices, knowing that they had truly made a difference that day. I hear the voices of heros; my father's deep tenor among them. I know my father was so very proud to have served with his fellow brothers and sisters. I know they will forever stand tall. ~ A Proud Daughter ~

As men and women they rose to the heavens, Unaware they were in the belly of the beast, That the beast had devoured them, That the beast had taken from them, all they would be all that they knew all that they loved all that was true. But when the beast looked at them, They did not look away. Their hearts may have cried, But their souls never cowered. And so they returned from the heavens, To meet the earth again but as Angels, To keep our flickering light burning bright, A moment of glory and they were home again. God Bless America, Chris Arabia Boston, Massachusetts