September 11, 200I…I Can Still Hear The Bagpipers

 Twenty-two years ago I lived around the corner from Campbell’s Funeral Parlor, the Taj Mahal of funeral homes.

  I got used to the sound of bagpipers mewling in memory of the firefighters and policemen felled on September 11th.

 Every day there seemed one more to be sadly serenaded as mourners wept on the sidewalk. I’d purposely make sure to stay in till the service was over so I wouldn’t weep too since, it began being a way of life.

 You just couldn’t help it.

 Me along with my city, ached.

 One image I’ll never lose is the little kid in his first suit holding his Dad’s hat as the new head of the family.

 I’m often asked why I’m still so affected over two decades later, usually by those who either watched it on television or were only babies when it happened.

 All I can ever say is, you had to be here.

Lest We Forget! 

SB