I spent last week on the East Coast with singing children. The choir sang at various monuments in and around Washington, DC. Then we went on to New York.  

The two most poignant moments: singing at Walter Reed Medical Center in Maryland. The kids sang, “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s my Brother” as veterans were wheeled in and out of the lobby. These young men had lost their legs – often both – and were cared for by moms, dads, lovers, wives, friends. Small children often walked behind the wheelchairs. The attendants at the front desk wept.

 On Good Friday we walked the street to ground zero, pausing at Trinity Church, where the body of Father Mychel Judge was carried and placed at the foot of the altar on September 11. They symbolism was profound – that one man lay down his life for his friends. 

 At ground zero, I walked around the two huge waterfall pools where names of the dead are etched in granite on the “railing.”  I wore a hat with the name of a Port Authority Police officer stitched on the side. I found his name and then I found three of his colleagues who patrolled the memorial. 

I explained that my husband is in law enforcement, too and his department was one of the groups who sent money. Through my tears I told them, “We have not forgotten. I pray for all of you often and think of the families who lost loved ones.” They were grateful… 

It was a good Friday.

(S-R archives photo)

---

---