What was it like, Walsh and Kennedy? Part two

FF Michael Kennedy BFD L-15

     Here we are just one week since the funeral for Boston Firefighter Michael Kennedy. For those of you that may be new to "A Piper's View," Michael died from injuries sustained while operating in the basement of  the 9 alarm fire located at 298 Beacon Street just opposite the Charles River on March 26, 2014. Michael was born in Boston on October 11, 1980 and served honorably for over 6 years in the U.S. Marine Corps where he had earned the rank of Sergeant. Michael was a Combat Veteran of Operation Iraqi Freedom prior to being appointed to the Boston Fire Department on November 5, 2007, where he would work on Ladder 2 before moving on to Boylston Street assigned to Ladder 15. Michael was a caring sort who gave and spent time with others, joining the Big Brother Program in East Boston, working as a fundraiser for the Wounded Warriors Project, and the Boston Firefighters Burn Foundation. So much has happened over the last week, but not one thing from this day a week ago has left my mind.

     The sun was shining so bright on my arrival at the church where all of this pipe band stuff started for me. That's right the funeral services for Kennedy are at the same church where I stood in 1996 as a young wet behind the ears probationary firefighter. Only this day I was not green and knew exactly what to expect. This day I would not be in awe of the swing in the kilt or the snap and whip of the flag. There were no snow covered grounds dusted deep in sand and soot. No clouds in the sky and the starched polyester and bell cap were replaced with wool and a Glen Garry. There would be no child staring back at me, I could not lose focus today, heck I still had all my inspiration from the day before.

Funeral Procession of FF Kennedy as it passes the rotary

     We arrived at the staging area and right away were grabbed by the Pipe Major of the Boston Gaelic Fire Brigade. Today's plan would be slightly different from yesterday. The Gaelic Brigade would play in front of the church while we would be given the honor of leading the massed bands beyond. When I say we, I mean Greater Boston Firefighters Pipes & Drums/Brockton Firefighter Pipes &Drums/Worcester Fire Brigade Pipes & Drums. After a short discussion prior to a massed bands meeting with all the Pipe Majors and Band Managers I was asked if I could go and begin to tune the bands. Everyone was pretty close to where they needed to be so tuning was rather easy. So many people would stop me and comment on the day prior and how wonderful the services were. Once again the band would have well over 300 pieces for today, a great showing! One of the guys on my department was walking by with his son, he had kept his son home from school to pay his respects. I thought this was great. What he would learn today could not be measured on one lost day in school. We would step off without incident and this time I was able to see the other side as we made our way to the church from the opposite side of the hill. There were people everywhere. Not just the sidewalks but in windows and roof tops alike. It just seemed there were more people today than the day before. This could be because West Roxbury is far more open than Watertown. As we played the Minstrel Boy up the hill toward the rotary I quickly realized maybe I didn't really fully have hold of the feelings of the day, maybe my concentration wasn't as tight as I thought. There, just opposite the church on the rotary is the Holy Name Elementary School. The teachers had brought all of the children out and lined them along the fence. So many of these kids standing and watching as we passed by. Waving the American Flag and responding to us like this was a joyous occasion. I know these kids didn't really understand fully what was going on but them being there created a beautiful tribute to Kennedy.

Holy Name Church, Members Saluting FF Kennedy

     As we passed by the church the Gaelic Brigade broke off to the front as we continued on. Once the massed band made our way beyond the front of the church we would finish playing. The Brigade would then take over and pipe the casket into the church. The arrival went off like clockwork!! After we were dismissed I began looking for the members of my department that had ridden in on two separate bus loads. As I was making my way through the crowds, (many of the people were making mention of how nice and fitting these two days have been) I saw a friend of mine. His brother (Engine 2) and sister (Fire Alarm) are on my department. His family is rich in the fire service as his father is retired a Boston Jake. He himself is also alarm operator. He has been on the Boston Fire Department for quite sometime and took part in some of the communications during the fire that took the lives of Walsh and Kennedy. I had known that his wife was the operator in charge of the fire so I asked him how she was doing. He had told me how she was handling the whole thing, she is a trooper, and that she was returning to work after taking just a couple days off. I don't blame her. This woman was incredible and kept her wits about her through extreme tragedy. She held her composure throughout the entire event never wavering even for a second. A true professional. I can only imagine how proud of her the Boston Fire Department and her family could be. A job well done!

Members of the American Infidels during church services

     I found myself standing staring at the front of the church, almost exactly the spot I stood 17 years ago. I couldn't help but think of the young boy (How it all Started) as I equated him to the men I had seen lined up in front of the church earlier. These men all with bodies and faces that have clearly lived a life time stood at attention wearing boots, jeans and the signature leather vests of a motorcycle club. They were the members of the American Infidels, a motorcycle club that Kennedy(Dork) belonged to. The club is made up of military men that have the interest of motorcycles and camaraderie. These men have seen battle in the field and have battled enough in their minds through their life time. They may be standing differently than the boy so many years ago but their inside emotion was just the same. I watched as they made their way up and into the church marching in unison. These men knew brotherhood and it showed in the way they carried themselves. It amazes me when you step back and take a look into the life of others, you realize just how many people are affected when someone is lost. Mind boggling.

to be continued…

Peter

Family, Friends, Strangers, and the Icon

       The last three weeks have been something to say the least. The losses have piled up faster than I realized, with a celebration at home mixed right in the middle of it all. This is the moment I veer from the point of this blog. I guess it's mine so I have that right, especially as the most proud dad on the planet right now. My son has done it, after five long years and incredible odds he earned his Black Belt in Karate. This would be the second time he attempted this training. The first time he went through the 16 week training course he had to bow out at week 14 due to a knee injury. He took two months off and felt it was time to jump right back in, far less than 100% I might add. At the time I wasn't sure this was a good idea. His determination to go through carried him the full 16 weeks and this Friday night he will receive the coveted Black Belt. If you have ever gone through this you know already the time and effort it takes for both you and your child. The feeling of seeing them reach a long term goal and knowing they will carry that with them forever is just amazing. The problem is how long is forever?

       For my friends father, forever may have ended January first at the age of 60. He was a musician his entire life and played in a local rock band with a solid following. I have seen him make his drums sing on many occasions. His son has been a friend of mine since I was a teen and coincidentally we work together at the same station on opposite shifts. Not unlike (I believe) myself, the Musician was a strong family man, and I imagine the son follows closely in those steps. Many times the son and I have bragged to each other about our children, never a competition type or a one ups-man, but more of an admiration type. It's so refreshing to see other men show their admiration for their family. This would be a church only service which I was ok with due to the monsoon that blew through the city the morning of the funeral. I always wonder if the deceased has a choice of weather after reaching their meeting place. If so I plan to create some interesting weather on my day. In spite of the weather, the service was beautiful. This was a traditional catholic mass with fine words from the family. The son, as well as five others carried the casket with grace and poise, a proper send off.  I'm sure the Musician was looking down at his son with the same kind of pride I have today for my own.

       Just two days later we laid to rest a stranger to me. The Stranger would have four more years of forever as he passed at 64. A Vietnam Veteran growing up in Waltham MA, moving to Brockton as an adult. He was a sports fan who loved to play golf and had a decent high school career on the football and baseball teams at Waltham High. I wasn't able to sit in on this mass and listen to his family's words as I spent my time chatting with the gentlemen working for the funeral home. We were discussing one of our friends and how he had lost his son the night before. The son was just 26 years old. I don't know the circumstances of his death, what I do know is 26 is a far too short forever.

Bugler from the 54th MA. 

       The Stranger's funeral ended in a different way than usual. There was no internment or graveside but he would still receive military honors. I spoke to the gentleman that was to give the honors. He is assigned to the 54th MA Regiment of the U.S. Army. A young black man with a promising career he seems ready to tackle the world. He was rather green, (having only served just under 3 years) but knew what he wanted to do with his forever and I found that refreshing. After the mass they held the casket up in the foyer of the church, for outside the doorstep, the Army guard played Taps from the (radio) bugle. The sound carried brilliantly throughout the church, it was kind of neat to be honest. As the bugle began the sun found its way from behind the clouds. I was struck by this so I did something I've never done. I pulled out my phone and took a picture. It kind of felt like my friend's son was looking on at that moment. I don't know, tough to explain. I did get a little choked up.  After Taps the guard made his way in the church to fold the flag. I have to assume it went well because it went quickly. Either it went quickly or I didn't snap out of my funk as fast as I thought (insert winky eye here). As the casket crossed the threshold of the church I began to play AG, as I said earlier there were no services following so at the family's request I finished up out front with two rounds and the walk away.

       The Icon closed his chapter in the book of life after 99 years. Could forever last just 99 years? Imagine, 99 years of living, his chapter is chock full of amazing tales and journeys…

to be continued…

Fur Elise

        Clearly music invokes emotion. Everywhere we go there is a beat, tone, or melody to a specific time. When we walk, how we speak, even when we eat there is a rhythm. Most of us are so enthralled in the trivial points of life we can't hear the music. Let's just imagine for a moment you spent your entire life around music, and music was your entire life. Then one day for whatever reason you actually lost your ability to hear. Your love of the music is so grand that you go on to write and perform literally hundreds of compositions, and become one of the most famous composers of all time. Despite being deaf, this was Ludwig Van Beethoven.

       Today I played the celebration of life for a gentleman who was the patriarch of 4 living generations. This gentleman lived 87 good years. This service was a joy for me. It was clear from the beginning the family wished this to be a celebration, so my tune selection was much more open than usual. I was able to play more of an upbeat selection to set a happier tone. I would play for thirty minutes before the service as people arrived to help celebrate this gentleman's life. My pipes locked in early and played rather tight today. I find it impressive how the weather has so much influence over the instrument. I was told this family would spend time in Nova Scotia. I would have to imagine today's weather is quite common there. Could there be a coincidence? I was contacted about this event by chance, from a woman I had met by chance on social media. We both belong to a debate forum and have had some great discussions. We have a mutual friend that would connect us, as she did not know any bagpipers in the area. As it turns out we graduated high school together in 1989. She is the granddaughter of the gentleman we were celebrating today. She would introduce me to her father and her daughter prior to the service. It is clear to me she is an intelligent well read woman who apparently does hear the music. This is a beautiful family whom to me, seemed very close and quite supportive of each other.  As I understood, her daughter, like her is a musician. She practices the clarinet and plays the piano. She would play a tribute to her great grandfather during the service. When I looked at the spelling of her name and that of her great grandfather, it seemed to me she was his name sake, only strengthening my thought of how close this family is.

       I mentioned how I felt the granddaughter was intelligent and well read, none of this is lost on her daughter, along with her general concern for others. The young girl and I had a brief but interesting discussion on Bagpipe lung which is a disease that bagpipers can get from not having proper care techniques for their instrument. As our conversation continued she explained how she would play the piano today for her great grandfather. She was a delightful young girl with honest eyes. She seemed ready to tackle the world. She was to play Fur Elise, one of Beethoven's most famous and complicated pieces. It is believed to have been written for a love interest of Beethoven, Therese von Rohrenbach zu Dezza. She was a friend and student of Beethoven's to whom he proposed in 1810, though she would turn him down to marry an Austrian nobleman. It is also believed that when the composition was transposed, the name was mistaken for Elise and not Therese. Clearly this young girl would master the piece. As the four of us stood talking you could see the levels of respect and admiration they each had for one another. How each of them felt for the man we all were about to celebrate. From the great granddaughter to the granddaughter, both looking up to the son as all of them playing the music of life for the father. Spending those moments with them was my favorite song of the day.

Peter