Posted on 03/21/2002 7:27:18 AM PST by doug from upland
Through IrishAbroad.com, I found a WTC tribute site. Please take the time to go add a tribute to John Moran who was known as FReeper BCM -- Battalion Chief Moran.
From NY Times Oct 25
'Firefighter With Law Degree'
John Moran was a Fire Department battalion chief and his cousin Joseph Crowley was a congressman. But when they united their voices that last Saturday afternoon, at the block party in the Rockaways -- well, "The Star of the County Down" never sounded sweeter.
At 42, Chief Moran was a kayaking, tin- whistle-playing firefighter with a law degree. But he never put himself before others. When his wife, Kim, was working out of town, he fed, bathed and smothered with love their two children -- Ryan, 7, and Dylan, 4 -- all the while ensuring that Peggy Moran, his mother who lived above him, never went wanting.
"When I saw his car outside, back home from work, that was a comfort to me," his mother said.
People may never forget the taunt that Michael Moran, John's younger brother and fellow firefighter, delivered to Osama bin Laden during a nationally televised concert in October, a taunt so profane and yet so eloquent, full of Irish anger and grief.
But Kim Moran will remember the late afternoon of Sunday, Sept. 9, the day after the block party and two days before the disaster that swallowed him. Trudging up from the beach came her beaming husband, pulling his sons on that wheeled contraption he had built for his kayak.
His wife grabbed a camera and caught it: John Moran in his glory.
By his brother, Mike Moran
September 28th, 2001
I didn’t know how to start this eulogy…
------------------------But one particularly cold New Year’s Day Swim when I said to John—I don’t know what to take off first, he replied, "Mike, all you can do is take off your shoes and JUMP IN!!
Back in high school, my friends on 114th Street would count how many times a night I would use the phrase, "My brother John said…." Once I caught on... I still kept quoting him, but he no longer got credit for the insightful words coming out of my mouth.
If you don’t know me----it’s probably because over the last twenty years I’ve been transformed. I went from being Walter Moran’s son to John Moran’s little brother.
**I drive an old gray Chevy Caprice. I got from John.
**I live in ####-##. The apt. I took from John when he moved to the city
**I sleep in a bed John made with his own 2 hands—it’s as solid as a tank.
**I became a Fireman because John convinced me to switch over from the Police Dept.
**My badge number is 236-----same as was my father’s. Because John was thoughtful and kind enough to make sure it was available and presented to me upon my graduation from the Fire Academy.
**I am proud-----VERY PROUD—--to be a member of Ladder 3, where we just suffered the loss of 12 great men. I am in 3 Truck because when I followed John from Brooklyn to Manhattan-----that was the place he recommended I go to.
**and finally, I have my girlfriend, the beautiful Donna Strilich, because on a hot day in Iowa-----John and Donna struck up a conversation and when I walked over--—John introduced us.
And that is but a small fraction of the things he gave me.
Last St. Patrick’s Day—John, myself and Capt. Patty Brown stood on a corner in Manhattan waiting to meet up with people. When Father Mickey Judge walked by with 6 women, all linked arm to arm. John said, "Hey Father, I gotta get one of those collars—you get all the girls!!" They all laughed, chatted for a while, and then they moved on. Patty Brown leaned over and said, "John, did you know those women were the last six Fire Dept. widows?"
If you knew John-----you could imagine how mortified he felt even though no one was offended. He had such a sense of decorum and what was appropriate----he couldn’t believe he had made such a faux pas.
Although, he was quite accustom to apologizing for me in such situations.
John would have shirked under no burden, except, being called a hero.
That is why recently, while being interviewed on TV, with tears in his eyes he quoted Chief Ed Croaker. Who once said to a graduating class at the fire academy, "In your career in the Fire Dept. the only act of Bravery you will ever perform is to take the oath of office, after that everything else is just in The Line of Duty."
John knew full well the cost of that duty. If you could have heard the cry of anguish the night I called to tell him that Jack Toomey, his friend and fellow member of Ladder 123, had made the supreme sacrifice. You would know John knew that duty. He also knew the duty and burden of being a leader. To take a dangerous task on oneself is one thing. But to ask another man to risk his life is something else entirely. John knew full well that burden.
I was lucky enough to speak to John twice the morning of Sept. 11th. I called his cell phone to see if we could go into the city together, but he was already in the car with Chief Ray Downey and on his way. After the second plane struck I spoke to him again. I said, "Be careful" and I would see him there------------------I didn’t get to see him there that day.
But I do see him now, all the time. I see him when I look in my mother’s eyes. I feel him when I share the grief with his beautiful wife, Kim. I hear him in the voices of my sisters, Ellen and Mona. And I understand that he is not gone when I look at his boys Ryan and Dylan.
If you knew him-----I’m glad. Because maybe you got to see him ride a bicycle in the hills of Iowa. Perhaps you talked history or discussed law with him. Perhaps you got the chance to argue politics with him. Maybe you heard him rant about the guy who changed the formula for Coca Cola-----I mean, he really hated that guy!
But if you knew him really well, perhaps you heard him speak to Kim on the phone, where he always ended the conversation with, "I love you" Even if his little brother was there to tease him.
Or maybe you were there as he played guitar and sang with his cousins around a campfire in Montana.
Or laughed with his buddies on the boardwalk.
Or perhaps you got a thumbs up after a particularly good smoky job.
Maybe you felt his arms around you in a tough time.
Maybe you were at the Block Party a few weeks ago, when he stopped my mother from doing the Macarena with her new hip. With a bemused look on his face, he took her by the arm, led her off the street and simply said, "Are you kidding me?"
Or if you were really lucky, you were in his house and got to watch him brush his boys’ hair------for John could be the gentlest of gentle giants.
I can’t begin to convey the loss and sorrow that Kim and the boys, my mother and my sisters feel at this moment.
I can only tell you how alone and helpless I felt the night of Sept. 11th as I stood on the smoking ruins and looked around at what was once such an incredible symbol of our city.
I was reminded of, and comforted by, a simple prayer I had seen recently in a small fishing village in Ireland. There was a picture of a boat in a dark, storming sea. The caption beneath said simply,
"Dear Lord, give me strength, for your ocean is so big, and my boat is so small."
God Bless America. God Bless Rockaway. Land of the Free. Home of the Bravest, and the Finest.
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