Word: heros
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Mike still wears his hero's mantle awkwardly, like a blazer that's several sizes too big. On a stormy morning in December, he and E.J. and his older brother Robert pile into his blue Ford Expedition and drive to Dingman-Delaware Elementary School in the Pocono mountains of eastern Pennsylvania. A third-grade class has pooled their piggy banks to raise $150 for the guys in Mike's firehouse, and a local resort has donated a free night's stay. The school's students, told to wear red, white and blue for the occasion, welcome him with a medley...
When Rosanne Cacciarelli Wise, the third-grade teacher, first sees Mike, she too bursts into tears and does a small swoon. "Before Sept. 11, a hero to these children was Superman on TV," she tells him. "After everything awful that happened, they need some good to come out of it, and you've been that for them the last few months. They need a hero they can see and touch...
...chaplain told him about the family-support center at the Sheraton across from the Pentagon. Sincock had never done any grief counseling before, but, in a way, his own loss made him the truest form of grief counselor. Those who visited the center came to see him as a hero. "All I could do was share my own story with them," he says. "Tell them what I've found. And that there is hope." After Sincock's first day there, Lieut. General John Van Alstyne, who was in charge at the Sheraton, asked him to put off his regular duties...
...tempting to say that Sept. 11 changed all that, just as it is tempting to say that every hero needs a villain, and goodness needs evil as its grinding stone. But try looking a widow in the eye and talking about all the good that has come of this. It may not be a coincidence, but neither is it a partnership: good does not need evil, we owe no debt to demons, and the attack did not make us better. It was an occasion to discover what we already were. "Maybe the purpose of all this," New York City Mayor...
...Show me a hero, and I will write you a tragedy," said F. Scott Fitzgerald. On the morning of Sept. 11, primary day in New York City, Rudy Giuliani was paddling along with all the other lame ducks into oblivion. The tower of strength had become an object of pity: the iron man's cancer made him vulnerable, the righteous man's adultery made him hypocritical, the loyal man's passions?for his city and its cops and its streets and its ballplayers?divided the city even as he improved it. After abandoning Gracie Mansion, his marriage in flames...