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The City that Never Sleeps or Forgets: Please remember Gary Geidel

This post comes a few days later than THE day that will most likely always ring of sorrow on the calendars of many. Ironically, I was unable to post this because I was out of town on the actual September 11–I was in New York City. I had gone for a shoot, and tried to also lump in a bunch of touristy things with Neil in short amount of time. NYC is truly an amazing city. Not a lifestyle I could ever subscribe to, but I was downright in awe.

We for the most part steered clear of the 9/11 Memorial sites, however that doesn’t mean we couldn’t feel the ever-present reminders of the tragedy of tragedies. The city and its people are no doubt healing, but the commemoration of the horrific event of course causes the grief to resurface. I only viewed Ground Zero from afar, and I choked up. And if someone like me, who was so geographically removed from the horror, can feel the need to sob out loud, I can only imagine what those close to the hub of horror or those who lost someone feel like day in and day out. Here are three photos I took while there. The one of the city at night, you can barely make out the light of the Twin Towers, but I was excited to see that it came out at least a bit.

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DarbiGPhotography-NYC trip-206-Edit

The following is a post as part of Project 2996. I’ve tweaked it a bit, after having received a book called “REQUIEM: Images of Ground Zero” in the mail from Gary’s sister, Christine,  after she read my blog post. (Christine, if you ever read this, thank you sooooo much for sending it to me…it had gone to an old address of mine, but it ended up getting to me a bit later!!!) 

Just because Sept. 11 has passed for this year, that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t keep in mind every day how very fragile life is. I would appreciate all of you to read below and think for a moment about the man whose name I was given, and the 2,995 others whose names are just as important, including those  on United Flight 93 that went down by Stonycreek Township, Pennsylvania, near my husband’s hometown. 

Nine years ago, the nation was rocked to its core. At the hands of hateful cowards. At the cost of nearly 3,000 hearts, minds and bodies. 3,291 days have passed, and so easy it is for many of us to move on. To focus on the patriotic spirit that rose out of that grim, ill-fated September day… to harness our own hatred in the name of the U.S. of A. and aim it at the sources of evil.
But it has not been easy for those who were left in the wake of the tragedy, left to deal with a senseless loss of someone they loved, someone who loved them. Time might heal, but healing is hard to do when the loss always feels like it just took place yesterday. And time doesn’t bring back any one’s father, mother, sister, brother, husband, wife or best friend.
As part of Project 2996, I would like to shine a light on one man of whom, until yesterday, I had never heard…but now after reading about him and hearing the memories of those he left behind, I understand how important it is that he is remembered. That he is honored. Now, nine years later. And thereafter.

His name is Gary P. Geidel, and he was a fireman for New York City Fire Department. He was one of 10 in his company who died in the aftermath of the terrorist attacks. He was 44.
Firefighting was in his blood. His father had walked before him; one of his brothers walked beside. All three Geidels shared a rescue company, Rescue Co. 1, which dates back to 1915 as the first rescue company to be established in the United States. Unfortunately, Gary was no stranger to responding to terror attacks; when the Twin Towers were bombed in 1993, Gary and his company were there…saving lives and helping others.
His retirement from public service was a mere 20 days away when the calendar turned to September 11 in 2001. He awoke that morning, ruefully told his wife of almost 11 years that he put in for overtime and headed to the firehouse. But not before returning to give the love of his life another kiss and hug. His last kiss and hug.
Gary was a 6 ft. 2 romantic, avid birdwatcher, Eagle Boy Scout, former Marine and a member of neighborhood softball and football team. He could fix parachutes, sew costumes, whittle gifts for loved ones and make toys for his daughter, Tillie. (Since I posted this the first time, Tillie has contacted me through blog comments and on Facebook, and each time it has warmed my heart that she has been touched by this small shout out to the noble acts of her dad. Tillie, thank you for reaching out. And best wishes to you and your family!!) 
I’m glad I’ve come to know Gary P. Geidel, who some called “Mule Bone.”

Many called him a friend.
Three called him a son.
Three called him a brother.
Some called him an uncle.

One called him a husband, a best friend, a soul mate.
One called him Dad.
And I know am not alone when I call him a hero.
Please remember Gary P. Geidel.

(B&W photo originally posted by jessica_foley62; other photos from Gary’s sites.)

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