by Eddie Mayrose
It took me ten years to write and, when I finally did, it was my hope that I could force just a little bit of sunshine on to a day that could certainly use a little; especially for me. God Bless Our Timothys was a very personal column and I was flattered that it was so well-received. So much so, that I have actually seen it pop up on other sites from time to time over the last four years and have even had friends ask me to repost it on September 11th. I honored those requests, but always with a heavy heart, as any reference to that day always brought me right back to Broadway and Wall; always brought the fear I felt that day right back into my chest. We all saw things that no one should ever see, and I hated that, more than a decade later, they were as vivid to me as they were that morning.
As a columnist at the Brooklyn Eagle, I did a few tributes that appeared on or around the anniversary of the attacks in memory of people or events that were prominent during those terrible days. However, writing about a friend I lost, how my oldest was affected as a young high school freshman or the story behind my youngest coming to be named Timothy was bittersweet – wonderful stories rooted in sadness and despair. I’ve now come to grips with the fact that I will always struggle with my emotions on 9/11, so, maybe, it’s time to inspire new and happy ones to balance the scales.
My longtime friend and teammate, Chris Grady, was lost in the North Tower, where 
he worked for Cantor Fitzgerald. He left behind his beautiful wife, Kelly, and two kids, Dylan and Kayla. Both currently attend Cranford High School. Dylan is a senior and a member of both the varsity football and baseball squads, just like his dad at Poly Prep back in the day. Kayla, an aspiring marine biologist, recently spent a month in the Bahamas pursuing that dream. She began her junior year last week. As it turns out, Kelly’s not too shabby in the raising-the-kids department. It makes me happy to imagine the proud smile on the Shademan’s face. Say Happy Birthday to Big Don for all of us, Chris.
September 2001, was a very exciting time for my family. I was a few months into the best job of my Wall St. career, and my son, Terrence, had just started at Xaverian High School; my alma mater. My wife, Virginia, and I had bought a new home and, best of all, we were expecting a new baby; our fifth. Terrence enjoyed a wonderful four years at Xaverian, even hanging a banner as part of the only City Championship basketball team in the school’s history. That freshman football season, trying though it was, led him, all of 5’2” and 95 pounds at the time, to a career as a defensive back at Nichols College in Massachusetts. Today, he is a successful young man; a great son, brother and as good a friend as anyone I’ve ever met. He is also Godfather to his younger brother, Timothy. Ah, yes. Timothy.
He was born on November 6th, 2001; his name inspired by the life and service of FDNY Captain Timothy Stackpole. I had never met Timmy Stackpole nor, at that time, any of his family. However, the stories of his devotion to his family, the FDNY and his faith led me to give his name to my son as an example of how a good man should live his life. Timmy has more than held up his end of the bargain, spending an enormous amount of time in community service while excelling in the classroom, on the stage and on the ballfield. Like his dad, he’d never met the Stackpoles, either, although he has always known how and why he was named.
Last September, while watching a Met game together, (a lot of our family stories start with, “ While watching a Met game together”), I came across a Facebook post from Pat Nash, a friend who needed volunteers to work the Stackpole Foundation booth at the Great Irish Fair. I had barely finished asking him before Timothy said he’d absolutely do it.
“We belong there, don’t we?” he asked.
And so we went, spending a few hours selling tee shirts to raise money for the foundation. We were the only two in the booth when Tara Stackpole, Tim’s wife, came over to meet us. Until then, our only contact had been through a letter I had written shortly after my Tim was born and an instant message she’d sent to my sister after she had read God Bless Our Timothys three years earlier. She offered a very warm hello and we slipped easily into parent speak; sharing stories about our kids. Her daughter Kaitlyn was there, also, and we passed the time talking about her upcoming wedding.
It was when Tara said hello to Tim, though, that she filled my heart. Introducing herself, she gave him a hug and said, simply, “Timmy, we are all so proud of you.”
Today, Timmy enjoys his first day of classes at Xaverian, the fifth in our family to be a Clipper. Kaitlyn Stackpole is now Kaitlyn Stackpole Welsh, having been married in a beautiful gown that had her father’s FDNY badge sewn into it while Terrence completes his first week at a job that has returned him home after two years in Philadelphia. These are just some of the happy things about which I’ll be thinking.
So, God bless our Timothys, Dylans, Kaylas, Kaitlyns, Terrences, Lindsays, Daniels, Ryans and, always, the heroes that got me home that day as well as the men of Seal Team Six. And may we never forget September 12th, the day we all took care of each other.
The View From The Cheap Seats 