There’s no easy way to say this: My childhood friend Jeffrey Gardner died on 9/11, a victim of terrorism. I pause today to think of him and what his death, and that of the others who died that day, as well as the countless more who have died since in the “War on Terrorism” means in our culture today. I think Jeffrey would find it meaningful that this year’s anniversary during Elul, when Jews around the world prepare for return, for the Jewish High Holidays, the Days of Awe during which we repent and hope to be written in the book of life for another year. For if ever there was a man who deserved be written there–who in many ways might have been said to define “life”–it was Jeffrey Gardner.
For 13 years I’ve written a memorial post on this day. That first post surfaced in an Internet search and put me back in touch with my best friend from elementary school, so I like to think that the gifts Jeffrey gave us in life continued past his untimely death. Today as I get ready to hoist my bike on the car and then go for a long lakefront ride, and as I plan a philanthropic event for pediatric healthcare, I can’t help but think that the values Jeffrey lived do, in fact, live on in many of his friends. Maybe not with the same gusto, but still. And we all think of him often.
In that spirit, I am reposting lat year’s memorial:
In 2012, Culture Husband and I visited the 9/11 Memorial to culminate our anniversary celebration. Somehow it seemed appropriate, even necessary, to visit the memorial and remember even as we celebrated. When we returned to NYC in December, we took Culture Sprout there as well. In fact, we stayed at a new hotel by the memorial and from our balcony we could see the people teeming toward the security line and the edge of the memorial park.
As I wrote last September, even in the cold of December, atmosphere was eerily like the memorials on the beaches of Normandy–all obvious signs of the destruction, horror, and blood are gone. But there is something in the air and light, in the way other visitors walk slowly and whisper, in the quiet, respectful aura of this place despite the hustle and noise of the surrounding city that took our breath away. Charlotte seemed to intuitively understand the sobriety and sacredness of the memorial.
It’s hard to tell a kid that the world is a dangerous, scary place. Even harder to tell her that someone you loved was felled by hatred and intolerance. But, recently she has said she’d like to take on world peace as a life goal. It’s a big one, but maybe, just maybe, she’s got a guardian mensch guiding her.
Politicians continue to fight over the completion of the 9/11 Museum, leaving the memorial and legacy painfully, shamefully unfinished. We’re still at war around the world–a war whose opening salvo was loud and silent at the same time (remember the deafening silence when all air traffic stopped?) And, yet, Syria indicated today that it might be willing to declare its chemical weapons. Do we have reason to be cautiously optimistic?
I ask you to please take the time to read my essay and remember that while “America was under attack,” as Andrew Card famously told President Bush 7 years ago, very real people were being injured and murdered. The ripple effect of their loss cannot ever be forgotten.
(Originally written on 9/11/2006)
Jeffrey B. Gardner died 5 years ago today when the World Trade Towers collapsed. I had known Jeffrey for as long as I can remember, growing up in the same town (Livingston, NJ) and attending religious school at B’nai Jeshurun together.
More than a boy I grew up with, Jeffrey was a dear friend throughout my high school and college years. We were both socially conscious teenagers and active in our temple youth group and in JFTY, the Jersey Federation of Temple Youth.
Like all of the people who have signed his guest book, I can attest to Jeffrey’s special qualities–his goodness, kindness, wisdom, and sense of fun. I can also recall his pride as he listened to his father sing in the temple choir on the high holy days, his clear affection for his siblings, and his love for his mother. Jeffrey and I, along with 20 other Jewish teens, spent a special summer together in 1982. As part of the JFTY Urban Mitzvah Corps, we lived in a fraternity house at Rutgers (later Jeffrey’s alma mater) and volunteered for various organizations in the New Brunswick area. We worked with the elderly, disadvantaged children, and the disabled. In the evenings we studied and played, enriching our Judaism and bonding as a group in a way that is immeasurable. Jeffrey lived his Jewish values and he taught us how much fun (and mischief) we could have within the limits of a moral, thoughtful life. My father had a special place in his heart for Jeffrey. Not just because they were in the same business, but because Jeffrey was respectful, forthcoming, and friendly. In business, my father could count on Jeffrey, just as I could count on him as a friend. Since Jeffrey’s death, I’ve learned that he continued to live those values for the rest of his far-too-short life. He read the Christian Bible and the Koran in order to understand other people’s belief systems. He volunteered with Habitat for Humanity throughout the hemisphere. He worked hard at his career and prospered. In his obituary, his sister Amy noted that he had a sun tatooed on his ankle because “a good day was as bad as it got. ” Jeffrey shone like that sun. Even when we weren’t in touch for a long time (we hadn’t spoken for about 3 years before his death), I felt his presence and the mark that he made on my life. On that perfect sunny September morning, a day eerily like today in Chicago, hatred killed Jeffrey. The irony that intolerance killed a soul who embodied tolerance is not lost on me. I dedicate today to Jeffrey–as sad as I am for his loss, I strive to live a life of which he would have been proud, to be tolerant and kind and strong as a tribute to his memory. Rest in peace, dear friend. You are indeed Z”L (Zichrono Livracha), of blessed memory.
Postscript, 9/11/2012: I think Jeffrey would have liked the Survivor Tree. He might have said that hatred cannot destroy what G-d has made, no matter what G-d you believe in. I know it made me smile on that sunny day in March, as I placed a stone on Jeffrey’s name to let him know I’d been there, wiped away my tears, and left with Culture Husband to face the city.
- Photos: America prepares to remember 9/11 (photos.denverpost.com)
- Survivor Tree Returns to Ground Zero (911 memorial.org)
- Construction Still Halted At 9/11 Museum; 9/11 Memorial Attendance Still Rising (newyork.cbslocal.com)
- Editorial: End the impasse on 9/11 Memorial Museum (newsday.com)
- Project Rebirth (documentary film