Another Stitch, Yet It Was So Much More

The blasting sound of sirens rained down on me as the Gilmer County fire engine entered the front gates of the Build an Ark Animal Rescue. I was there, in front of it, as the red ladder truck came barreling towards me. I was furiously snapping pictures, scudding backwards, trying to get that one quintessential shot that would capture the moment. I was looking for the picture that said “Triumph!” or “Glory!”, the one that signified American strength; the one that told the world that our nation, regardless of how devastating the disaster it experiences, like Lazarus will rise again. But, the truck moved too fast and before I knew it was past me, down near the frame of the barn. Firemen were suddenly pouring out of the cab bearing The 9/11 National Flag, resting and folded in its ceremonial bag.

Daniel McKeon Covering The National 9/11 Flag Arriving In Ellijay from Fetch on Vimeo.

Jimmy Sands, a firefighter with the Fire Department, City of New York, guided the removal of the flag. A team of firefighters from New York and Georgia unfurled it, foot by foot. They spread it out and the corners flew out, wing-like, against the receding and blond sunlight. Sands told the history of the flag, how it was found flying high on scaffolding on 90 West Street, buried in soot and ash, a symbol of fortitude and unity, and how it soon became the New York Says Thank You Foundation’s symbol of strength.

At 20 feet high and 30.5 feet wide, the flag has received ceremonial stitches from around the Nation. Young and old have stitched it, those who have experienced tragedies and perhaps even 9/11 survivors have signed it. Each stitch, I realized, symbolized a connection, not only with 9/11, but with some tragedy and subsequent healing. But, what was my connection? Of course, I was touched by 9/11, but I didn’t lose any close family members to the attacks. I never had my house destroyed by a tornado or lost anyone I loved or cherished in a tragedy. So, what was my connection to all this?

In a matter of minutes, a line of people were holding the flag, building a wall of sentinels, or perhaps, prayer candles, around it. They were silhouettes in soft sunset, some sobbing, others leaning on each other. Sands had the people holding the flag switch out with the people who were not holding it, giving everyone a chance to participate. I suddenly found myself holding the hem of the flag, starring out into silhouettes with deep personal connection to the banner in some way. And, there I was, slightly displaced, holding cloth, countless stitches, feeling the surge of sorrow of those who sewed the stitches at my fingertips, praying and then was soon wiping my own eyes.

In a recent interview, Historian David McCullough said that history gives us strength, meaning that in history we see the nobility and dignity of figures that we too can adopt. By its examples of volunteerism and charity, The New York Says Thank You Foundation made history in Ellijay this weekend, giving us examples that we too can and must imitate. But, as the sun slipped behind the treetops, I still had my question to deal with about my connection. I realize, now that my connection, to the Foundation, to the Flag, and to all the other victims the foundation helps–my stitch–is my witness to this weekend’s activities that have been visceral examples for me to follow.