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Editorial: "Eight is Enough" May Be Too Much
June 20th, 2002

Editorial: Cedar Key Plantation: Albatross or Opportunity
June 16th, 2002

Editorial: Hello Cedar Key Plantation, Goodbye Clam Beds
June 14th, 2002

Editorial: All`s Quiet on the Water Front
June 8th, 2002

Editorial: A Cop in Trouble
June 6th, 2002

Editorial: Community Redevelopment Wish Lists
June 3rd, 2002

Editorial: Heath Davis and the Power of Politics
May 19th, 2002

Editorial: Do We Need Another Hero?
May 16th, 2002

Editorial: Support Groups
May 8th, 2002

Editorial: Clarification of Speak Out
May 7th, 2002

Editorial: Introducing Our Editor
April 22nd, 2002


Guest Editorial: Never Forget

Guest Editorial: Never Forget

Guest Author

Bin Laden`s death was a time for reflection.


By Bobby McCabe


The newscaster made an announcement that the president would speak to the nation within the hour about a topic of great importance. I was immediately gripped with a sense of dread. Sunday night, the late hour, I worried the news might be bad. Before long, news leaked that Osama bin Laden was dead and had been killed by American forces.


My feeling of anxiety was replaced by a sense of relief that a terrible force of evil had been eliminated and could do no more harm. Much past that, my reactions were subdued.

I had been among the rescue workers at the World Trade Center in the days following the September 11th attack and was exposed to unimaginable heart ache. Having spent four days at the site and at a firehouse in mid town, I quickly learned to keep my emotions in check.

When I was there, I met and spoke to people who had very good reason to be desperately sad and angry because they had lost friends and family. My friend and fellow Hillsborough County firefighter Brian Muldowney was hoping beyond hope to find his New York fire fighter brother Richie alive in the ruins of the south tower. In the evening when we returned to the firehouse after digging all day, an exhausted Brian would often sit at the kitchen table hug and cry with Richie`s buddies who in their hearts knew there was really no hope.

I listened to Rosemary Cain tell stories about the "guys." Her son George was last seen with Richie and other members of Ladder 7 entering the south tower. I watched a mountain of a FDNY lieutenant walk to a corner of the firehouse and sob. As he leaned his head against a wall his shoulders shook up and down as he was overcome with grief.

Even though there was more than enough reason to cry or be openly incensed by the event, I was just an observer. My family was home safe and I really had no right or reason. I kind of felt the same way on Sunday evening. Brian, Rosemary and the thousands of others who were directly affected by the tragedy were the ones that could openly rejoice. I just sat there and remembered, admired the courage of our service men and women and quietly cried. For some reason I felt it was okay. Let`s not forget.

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