Paul Revere by Cyrus Dallin, North End, Boston



Trump Sides with the Kremlin, Against the U.S. Government.

(If that isn’t sitting in the lap of Treason, I don’t know what is.)

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

In Memory of Kevin M. McCarthy and All Who Were Lost on September 11, 2001


Kevin M. McCarthy

World Trade Center 


 First think of him and Cape Cod. For Kevin M. McCarthy, the man with the catching smile who never encountered a conversational pause he couldn't fill, the salty air, sand dunes and lapping waves of Cape Cod constituted paradise. He found serenity there as a boy, and it was where he took his own family for vacations. Then think of his facility with his hands and his knack for MacGyver-like solutions. "You gave him a string and he could create a universe," said his wife, Debra. 

Then consider his unabashed confidence in himself. Risks didn't register. The proof was 98 stitches. Like the hockey stitches. The stitches from his service days when the antenna of an Army tank sliced off his eyebrow. And the box spring stitches. Unable to maneuver a box spring up three flights of stairs, he cut it in half, meanwhile sawing the inside of his hand. That was 23 stitches. 

Mr. McCarthy, 42, who lived in Fairfield, Conn., with his wife and three children, Chelsea, 12, and Andrew and Stephanie, 5, was also the master of reinvention. He ran a personal service business, then became a stay-at-home father when the twins were born, and then emerged as a bond trader for Cantor Fitzgerald. On the night of Sept. 10, just before they went to sleep, he told his wife, "This is just too good to be true." 

 Profile published in THE NEW YORK TIMES on December 31, 2001. 

Kevin M., age 42, of Fairfield, CT. is one of the missing victims of the attack of the World Trade Center Twin Towers. He was a Bond Broker For Cantor Fitzgerald. Born in Chelsea and raised in Reading, MA. he was the son of Charles and Marie (Fantasia) McCarthy of Orleans, MA. He was a graduate of Reading High School and attended college in Boston. 

He belonged to the National Guard for a number of years. In addition to his parents, he leaves his beloved wife, Debra Menich McCarthy; three children; Chelsea 11, and twins Andrew and Stephanie, 5, of Fairfield, CT. He is also survived by four sisters; Kathleen Sullivan and her husband, Richard of Concord, MA; Karen Toomey and her husband, Kevin, of Wellesley, MA; Maureen Baumgartel and her husband, Scott, of Sudbury, MA; Mary Ellen Rice and her husband, Tim, of Westport, CT; one brother, Charles Jr. and his wife, Deborah, of Back Bay Boston; and 9 nieces and nephews. 

A Celebration of Life will be conducted Wednesday, October 3, 2001 at 10:30 a.m. at St. Bernard's Church, Monument Square, Concord, MA. A Memorial Fund has been established, McCarthy Family Fund, c/o Charles Abercrombie, Esq., 251 Penfield St., Fairfield, CT. 06430 

THE BOSTON GLOBE on October 2, 2001.


FreeThinke said...

A beautiful tribute to an obviously dear and very special man, Ms Shaw. I hope and pray all those wonderful memories of him will sustain the sense of his Still-Living Presence in the life of his wife and children for the rest of their lives.

As long as we remember our loved ones, they will stay with us forever. I know this to be true, because I experience it every day.

However, as usual, our friend Emily should be allowed to have the Last Word on the meaning of loss:

After great pain –– a formal feeling comes.
The nerves sit ceremoniously -- like tombs
The stiff heart questions –– was it He that bore ––
And Yesterday -- or centuries before?

This is the Hour of Lead --
Remembered –– if outlived ––
As freezing persons recollect the snow

FIrst Chill –– then Stupor ––
Then –– the Letting Go.

~ ED (1830-1886)


PS: Thank you again for visiting the special edition of my blog reopened today in honor of this grim-but-sacred occasion. ~ FT

Duckys here said...

I remember David DiMeglio of Wakefield Mass. who was on Flight 11.

Young guy who helped my dad shovel out on occasion. I met him once or twice.

So much violence.

FreeThinke said...

So sorry. In my haste I forgot part of Emily's most important poem. This is closer to how it should read:

After great Pain ––
A formal Feeling comes.
The Nerves sit ceremoniously --
Like Tombs.
The stiff Heart questions ––
Was it He that bore ––
And Yesterday --
Or Centuries before?

The Feet , mechanical, go 'round ––
A wooden way ––
Of Ground -- or Air -- or Ought
Regardless grown ––
A quartz Contentment like aStone.

This is the Hour of Lead --
Remembered –– if outlived ––
As freezing persons --
Recollect the snow --

FIrst Chill –– then Stupor ––
Then –– the Letting Go.

~ Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

Quoted from memory, so the formatting and punctuation may still be wrong, but then one finds so many variations and inconsistencies among the different editions and online texts.

Shaw Kenawe said...

Thank you for the poem, Mr. Free Thinke. It is perfect for this day.


I lived in Wakefield for a number of years.

FreeThinke said...

Remarkable coincidences!

Ducky lives in Everett.

My father was born in Everett -- one-hundred-five years ago last May.

Ducky and Ms Shaw have important connections to Wakefield.

My best friend from elementary school through high school married a girl from Wakefield. I was best man at their wedding in Wakefield -- nearly fifty years ago.

The three of us are practically like family. ;-)

Shaw Kenawe said...

More connections. Many of my family members lived in Everett on Vernal Street. My grandparents owned a small variety store there in the '50s.

I'm curious. What church was your friend married in? Did they live in Wakefield after their marriage.

I spent many winters skating on Lake Quannapowitt and swimming in it during the summers.

Good heavens! Should we three plan a family reunion? In Everett or Wakefield?

FreeThinke said...

A Family Reunion?

What an appealing idea!

Just give me time to get my armor oiled and burnished, and I'll be right there. ;-)

In truth, I'd prefer to meet in Boston proper.

OR we might chose Peake's Island, ME where my forebears first set foot on North American soil c. 1630.