Remembering 9/11:

Quirky honours, solemn rituals and thinning crowds

by Nicholas Pugliese

As low-slung clouds gave way to sunlight over the 9/11 Memorial Plaza on Friday morning (11), a single bell tolled in a momentarily solemn city and the first name was read: Gordon Aamoth Jr.

So began a tradition — now in its 14th year — of honouring the nearly 3,000 people who lost their lives in terrorist attacks at the World Trade Center, the Pentagon and a field near Shanksville, by reading aloud their names and observing moments of silence. More than 1,000 relatives of September 11 victims gathered between the footprints of the north and south towers to share in their continuing grief and to find strength. Many wore pictures of their loved ones on T-shirts or held them in frames, while others held homemade memorial posters above their heads.

Although observers have remarked on the thinning crowds in recent years for the physically demanding three-hour ceremony — on Friday, only about 100 family members remained in the Plaza as the last name was read, mostly those who brought a lawn chair — relatives said Friday that they also remember their loved ones through a dazzling variety of personal tributes that are just as important as the official ones.

Mitch Ellicott, a detective lieutenant in the Sussex County Sheriff’s Office, for example, attended the ceremony with his twin sons, Zachary and Benjamin, who were dressed in the light blues of their local Fire Department.

They were in attendance to honour East Rutherford resident Keith James Burns, Mitch’s brother-in-law, but the rest of their family was down at the Shore hitting golf balls, or perhaps marshmallows, into the ocean.

“We always took the day off and go do something that my uncle used to do,” Zachary explained, adding that he and his brother participated in the outings until recently. “He loved golfing. He loved bowling. So we usually do stuff like that on September 11.”

Burns also loved marshmallows. One year the boys teed them up on the beach and tried to drive them into the water with golf clubs they brought for the occasion.

“He was a little bit of a prankster,” Benjamin reminisced about his uncle.

“He always had a big heart and was very generous,” said Mitch. He said he volunteered with a hazmat team in the Ground Zero cleanup effort and re-upped with the Navy in response to the attacks, serving tours in Kuwait in 2009 to 2010 and in Afghanistan in 2013.Dennis McGinley, 49, of Haworth, who lost his brother Danny in the 2001 attacks, said he was headed to O’Hara’s pub with his daughters and extended family after the ceremony to buy a beer in his brother’s memory. For the 14th consecutive year, Danny’s widow, Peggy, a Ridgewood resident, was carrying a photo of Danny that she would prop up while the family laughed and told stories nearby.

“He used to work nearby across the street before he was at the World Trade Center, and we had his bachelor’s party at O’Hara’s,” McGinley said about the genesis of the ritual. After a few years of visiting the bar, the family got to know some firefighters who had a similar tradition, and “it’s become this big family atmosphere in there,” McGinley said.

Later in the evening, the group planned to attend a Mass in honour of Danny and other victims from Ridgewood at the village’s Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church, followed by a family dinner at Smith Brothers restaurant — just like in years past.

“It just makes the day a little easier, a little lighter,” McGinley said.

Stacey Bosso, 29, a Staten Island native who works in Paramus as a substance abuse counselor, has devoted portions of her body — for tattoos — to late family members, including her brother-in-law, Carl DiFranco, who perished in the south tower.

“I go to the extreme with the tattoos,” Bosso said before revealing three butterflies hovering around a yellow flower on her left shoulder. The one initialed with a curlicue “C” is in honour of Carl, she said. Similarly, three doves alight on a feather in the light of three stars and a moon on her right forearm.Carl’s mother, Carole DiFranco, proudly wore a picture of her son inside a gold filigree frame hanging from a chain around her neck.

“I never forget him,” she said. “I carry him with me every day.”

One family lingered on the Memorial Plaza longer than all the others Friday, chatting so far beyond the end of the ceremony that the event staff politely asked them to move so they could break down the risers.

Catherine Petti, 80, whose Staten Island church has held a Mass in her son Philip’s honour on the second Tuesday of every month for the past 13 years, said she makes a point of staying until all the names are read.

“It’s only fair to hear everybody’s name, not just the first ones,” she said.

Her son Thomas, who serves in a different fire department than the Chelsea-based company where Philip was a lieutenant on September 11, added: “It just shows respect for everyone who was lost that day.”

As the Pettis walked away from the ceremony, one relative proudly showed off a softball jersey for a team named in Philip’s honour.It seemed like Philip and other victims were just a phone call away. As one man put it after reading a group of names on stage Friday: “Jimmy, you are sorely missed. Save me a seat.”

-North Jersey News