A lesson even a 4-year-old can appreciate

LOLITA HARPER

This year was the first year, I put my pen down and really thought --

I mean, really, thought -- about the words being spoken at the Sept.

11 memorials.

“It was a time in life we will never forget,” Costa Mesa Fire

Chief Jim Ellis said just before 7 a.m. Thursday, outside of fire

station No. 5. “A time that will forever change the nation.”

Those are words every reporter has heard spoken time and time

again, at each press conference, memorial or gathering regarding that

eerie, tearful, unbelievable day two years ago. Reporters on

assignment frantically scribble the words, making sure the quote is

correct, then flip the page to catch the next sentence of the speech.

When the formal presentation is over, you look for people to

comment, get their names, ages and city of residence and it’s back to

the office to file and start your next story. Just another day at the

office.

Thursday morning was different. With my son Donovan hugging my

legs outside of the fire station, Ellis’s words hit home. Donovan

will grow up in an entirely different nation, in large part because

of Sept. 11, 2001.

As I dragged my poor sleepy kid out of bed at 6:30 a.m., he asked

me what I was doing. (I have the one toddler who will sleep until 10

a.m. if you let him.)

“We’re going to go see the fire and police men,” I told him. (Yes,

I should have included the women but I wasn’t thinking that

politically correct in my early morning haze. Sorry.)

This got him up and ready to go. Donovan has three “firemen” hats,

a police motorcycle, a police helmet, countless fire trucks and

police cars and numerous sticker badges -- one that is permanently

stuck on the wall of our apartment. (Goodbye security deposit.)

Each week it’s a toss up between being a “fireman” or a police

helicopter pilot. Only recently has one other profession trumped the

two. After seeing Pirates of the Caribbean, he wants to be a pirate.

He asked me again, “Where are we going?”

How do you tell an almost-4-year-old about Sept. 11? I told him it was a very “special” day, and we were going to pray and let the

police and firefighters know we are grateful.

“Right now we need to get to the fire station before we are late,”

I said. “You’ll he learn more about it when you get in big boy

school.

I wonder what he will learn. I remember learning about John F.

Kennedy’s assassination and never really understanding my mom’s

reaction to the event’s anniversary. All the talk about where you

were when you first heard the news, etc. Now, I get it.

I hope Donovan learns more than facts and dates.

I hope Donovan remembers the bell tolling for those victims

Thursday morning. The noise that was so loud, he covered his ears

with his hands.

I hope he remembers the 15 minutes it took Costa Mesa Fire

Battalion Chief Tim Riley to read the 344 names of the fallen

firefighters from the East Coast attacks.

The minutes in which Donovan switched his weight from his right

leg to his left and back to the right. The 15 minutes that he

complained about standing, sat down on the curb and then got tired of

sitting.

All the while, Riley was still reading names.

Then came the names of the fallen police officers from officer

Julie Beckman, followed by whimpers to be held from a restless

4-year-old.

I put down my pen and that’s when it hit.

All those names. So many Timothys, Patricks, Roberts, Johns,

Millers, Rileys, O’Briens, Smiths and Rodriguezes. Sergio, Levi,

Maria and Kathy -- just to name a few.

“We gather here today to honor those who paid the ultimate

sacrifice, those who died in the line of duty,” Ellis said.

I remembered the quote without writing it down because it really

sunk in. The chief’s words resonated later when Donovan was on his

way to school. Apparently, watching the uniformed men and women of

the Costa Mesa fire and police departments line up in formation

reignited his dreams of public service.

“Really, mom, what I really want to be is a fireman,” he said. “I

want to be a good pirate, but you can’t really be one when you grow

up. Maybe just for Halloween. But I really want to be a fireman. OK,

mom?”

Sure. Baby, whatever you say.

“We gather here today to honor those who paid the ultimate

sacrifice, those who died in the line of duty,” Ellis’s words ran

through my mind.

I hope Donovan someday puts on a uniform with pride and does his

best to protect the nation, the county or the city.

I also hope he doesn’t.

* LOLITA HARPER writes columns Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays and

covers culture and the arts. She may be reached at (949) 574-4275 or

by e-mail at [email protected].