The bright lights of December
have dimmed. My front door looks a little sad without its merry wreath and
evergreen swag, and I’m recovering from the worst cold I’ve had in a decade,
but the good news is I’ve been drinking lots of tea, and I’ve had time to think,
which in the whirl of a fast-paced life is a rare gift. The Big Cold took me
down on New Year’s Eve. I tried to rally in time for a neighborhood party; I even
showered and put on my favorite holiday clothes, but I couldn’t get my voice
over a whisper, so I made the tough call. My New Year’s Eve plans were
officially cancelled. I was afraid Joe would be disappointed, but he gave me a smile
and quickly moved to plan B. We could sit on the couch next to a cozy gas stove
and rent a movie. We scrolled through the new releases. I thought about some
light-hearted comedies, or a sweet romance, but Joe was decisive. We would
welcome 2018 with Dunkirk. I didn’t
have the strength to argue. I thought about seeing this film when it was still in
theaters, but decided against it because I knew it would be tough to watch. Like Saving Private Ryan, Dunkirk would be a loud and violent film
that would haunt me for months if not forever. I was right about the horror of
Dunkirk, but I had also forgotten its great lesson, its glimmer of hope. Many
of the British, French, Belgian and Dutch soldiers who were stranded on that
French beach in May, 1940, were successfully evacuated by civilian boats who
answered the call for “All available boats.” The selfless act of those boat captains and their crews saved 330,000 lives.
On December 31, 2017, I
realized that I was familiar with the term “All available boats” because that
was the call sent out on September 11, 2001 across New York Harbor. In fact, I
had read a book by the same name. All Available Boats
(Spencer Books/New York 2002) passed quickly out of print, but I found it in
Maine’s library system a few years ago, and I later purchased a used copy online
to keep. It is an unusual account of 9/11 because it describes the evacuation
of Manhattan Island rather than the attack on the World Trade Center and the
Pentagon. The book, edited by Mike Magee, M.D., is divided into two parts: interviews
with the boat captains who answered the call, and their passengers who were
fleeing the carnage. The vivid photos show ferries, tugboats, Coast Guard vessels,
water taxis, municipal tankers, fireboats, and even a retired FDNY fireboat
that had been lovingly restored. The crews of these boats worked without rest
until 300,000 people were evacuated from lower Manhattan, almost as many as the
number of troops rescued from Dunkirk.
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| Sea smoke surrounds a Portland tugboat 1/1/18 - Steve Yenco |
One tugboat captain reported that about 20 tugs rescued 400
people from Battery Park City over a period of four hours on the first day of their week-long
mission. I feel the warmth of a summer sun in that fact. Men and women are capable
of enormous good. As a high school teacher, it always worried me when students
told me they didn’t like history; they never watched the news or read
newspapers, and they would rather read science fiction or fantasy rather than
historical fiction. If I have learned anything, it’s that history really does
repeat itself, especially if we don’t pay attention to it! Dr. Magee, a husband
and father of four, was completing a fellowship in Humanities at the World
Medical Association in New York City, when he witnessed the horrific events of
9/11. I have to believe that he was there on purpose because his collection of
emotionally-charged stories and photos shed light on one of our nation’s
darkest hours. His view brings us hope.
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| A frozen boat in Harpswell - Benjamin Williamson |
While I was home with that incredibly horrible cold, I filled the
quiet hours of the day by reading or watching good stories. For example, I finally
watched Frozen, the ninth highest
grossing movie of all time. On one of
the coldest nights in recent Maine history, I bought that animated film, and its
music helped to keep my spirit alive. Days later, I was still humming, “Let it
Go!” Beyond entertaining us, the story of Anna and her sister, Elsa, also shows us the importance of courage under fire, or ice. Anna’s love for her
sister, not Kristoff’s love for Anna, saves the kingdom. And that politically correct
ending suggests that animated films are not for children only!
