One of the challenges of preserving a painful memory is that the very act of remembering can make the mind race, the heart ache and the eyes sting with tears. It can be awful work.
Sincere remembrance of Sept. 11, 2001, is our duty as a people. We owe it to ourselves and to all those who lost their lives.
Of course, remembering something is not the same as being reminded of it. We are reminded of Sept. 11 every day. We are bombarded with images in the media, and our politicians sell Sept. 11 to us like soap.
How do we remember Sept. 11?
It was a question Las Vegas physician Michael Brown, whose brother, New York City Fire Department Capt. Patrick Brown, was killed in the collapse of World Trade Center Tower 1, answered in his own way by writing a manuscript that attempted to capture not only the beauty and importance of his brother's life but also the impact and meaning of that infamous day. The story is called "What Brothers Do."
When I spoke to Michael Brown about his admirable effort, he said he hoped to see the story published. But he spends most of his waking hours in the emergency room at Sunrise Hospital, leaving little time to shop around his manuscript.
He isn't quite sure what to do with the story. He only knows he has to tell it. Perhaps the writing is cathartic, I thought, but probably not. The ache over the loss of his fearless firefighting brother was as deep as the hole at ground zero, and for people who have suffered greatly, there is no such thing as closure.
Paddy Brown was a hero long before that September morning. He had been decorated for bravery, had been captured by newspaper photographers rappelling down the side of buildings on rescue attempts. He was the heart and soul of Ladder 3, which the boys at the station often referred to as 3 Truck.
Michael Brown left the hospital within hours of the terrorist attack and struggled mightily to travel to Manhattan in a desperate attempt to be near his missing brother. The physician worked side by side with rescue workers, who within a few days reluctantly came to the realization that there would be no one to rescue.
Michael Brown recalled one heartbreaking moment when a colleague relayed a media account of up to 17 firefighters being rescued from the rubble.
"The truth was that the six who got rescued were rescuers themselves," he writes. "They were caught in the collapse and jumped into a nearby firetruck to avoid being crushed to death. There were not 17 live firemen pulled from the collapse and, so far since the 11th, no one was found alive."
Another memory takes the form of a simple snapshot from the sidewalk:
"In my journey to Ladder 3, I walked past St. Vincent's Hospital and the now weathered pictured that had been posted of the people who never returned from work on September 11th. You could still read the messages from the families. I felt the sadness and choked back my tears before they could escape."
More than 7,000 people gathered for Paddy Brown's funeral at St. Patrick's Cathedral, where eulogist and newspaper columnist Mike Daly observed, "By one report, Paddy and the rest of 3 Truck found themselves on the 40th floor with 30 to 40 severely burned people.
"Those suffering, terrified people could have nobody better to die with. I picture Paddy still calm, still precisely Patrick J. Brown at the instant the light left his eyes, he and his men showing with their very presence that there are greater things than saving your own life, you know. ...
"When Tower 1 collapsed, anyone who knew Paddy Brown knew he was still in there. ...
"Today, Paddy's mortal remains are still down in that smoldering pile. Perhaps he continues to fight the devil. He always knew that the devil is not just fire. The devil is also indifference and callousness and materialism and disrespect and anything else that hardens the heart.
"To gaze upon that pile is to be challenged to remember and honor Paddy and all those who perished with him, to live true to his everlasting example."
Five years later, how do you remember Sept. 11?
The real question is: How could you forget?
• John L. Smith's column, reprinted from the Las Vegas Review-Journal, appears on Thursdays on the Appeal's Opinion page. E-mail him at smith@reviewjournal.com or call (702) 383-0295.