9/11 - A Different Kind of Memory

When Eleanora Leszczuk was sixteen, Nazi troops rolled through her small village in Poland.  They took her and one of her two sisters and put them on separate trains to Germany.  She never saw that sister or anyone else in her family again.

Eleanora survived the war as a prisoner, working on a forced labor farm.  It was there she met Tony, who would become her husband, and there that she gave birth to her only child, Stan.  After the war, Eleanora, Tony and their son spent five years in various refugee camps in Europe before securing a sponsor who could bring them to America.  They settled in Detroit, found work, enrolled their son in the local parish school, and started building a new life.  Stan grew up, became a US citizen, was commissioned as an officer in the US Air Force, and got married.  (And I received the great gift of having Eleanora as a mother-in-law.)

At the time of the tragedy of 9/11, Eleanora was living near us in Ohio.  Tony had passed away a few years before.  In the patriotic fervor that followed 9/11, I happened to ask Eleanora why she'd never become a US citizen.  She told me she had wanted to, back when Stan did - when he turned 21 - but it was not possible for Tony (who had no formal education) and she didn't want to disrespect him by doing what he could not. I asked her, "What about now?  Would you still like to?"  She answered, "I'm too old.  They wouldn't want me now."

Of course, this wasn't true.  I downloaded the requirements for citizenship, including the test materials, and offered them to her. She spent months learning facts most of those of us who were born here don't know.  We helped her submit the formal request in the spring and, on August 8, 2003, her 77th birthday, 52 years after she came to this country, Eleanora took and passed her examination for citizenship.  Now all that was left was the official 'swearing in' ceremony.

In a fitting tribute to the enduring strength of our nation, the ceremony was scheduled for the afternoon of September 11, 2003.  It was a large group, all eager to become part of this great country. Eleanora was supported by Stan and I, her two grandsons and their wives, and her three great-grandchildren.  There were lots of speeches and the oath was administered and we all sang God Bless America.  And Eleanora Leszczuk became a brand new US citizen.

Two months later, for the first time, she went to the polls on Election Day and voted.

It's a better memory for 9/11, don't you think?


(I'll bring the groaners back on Wednesday.  Just don't seem to fit today.)

Remembering 9/11 - the Personal Side

This weekend we're all going to be remembering 9/11, which is as it should be.  There are so many images we've seen over and over, they're part of our collective memory.  But we have our personal memories, too.  I think it's fitting that we share some of those.

Everyone remembers where they were when they heard about it.  I was working at the American Red Cross then.  I hadn't been listening to the news that morning, had no idea what was going on when I walked into my office and was immediately pulled into a meeting.  Disaster had struck and we needed to mobilize, nationally and locally.  I was sitting in that meeting, half watching the large TV on the wall when I saw the second tower go down.  For a moment there was silence, then we pushed on.

I remember the frantic call from my son.  They were evacuating his little boy's daycare center, which was located just outside a major Air Force base.  There was a fear that military installations would be targeted.  My son was on the road and couldn't get there in time.

But my most intense memories came later, when I was assigned to relief operations at the ARC Respite Center, World Trade Center.  We had set up in a university building, inside the perimeter around ground zero.  A place where the firefighters, police and other emergency personal working the pile could step away, eat, drink, rest, talk before returning to what was probably the most horrific job they would ever do.  Most of the memories I have from that time I would rather forget, but I will share this one.

We had set up a sleeping room lined with cots for those that refused to leave the site, to go home and rest.  They came in, slept for an hour or two, and went back to work.  On each cot, along with the bedding, was placed a small teddy bear.  The Red Cross often has teddy bears at shelter sites, to comfort the frightened - usually children.  I was working the kitchen that day but happen to pass by the sleeping room.  The door was slightly ajar, leaving the first cot in view.  The firefighter had simply stepped out of his boots and shed his helmet and coat before falling onto the cot.  He was sleeping.  And clutched tightly in his arm was a small teddy bear.  A very small comfort in a sea of misery. I was grateful we were able to give him that.

Will you share a personal memory of 9/11?


No groaner today.  Instead, a simple prayer - God Bless America.