As the country commemorates the 15th anniversary of Sept. 11 this year, the College of the Holy Cross remembers our seven alumni who died in the attacks on New York and Washington. The families and friends of these alumni, as well as all those who died and suffered in the attacks, remain in the thoughts of the Holy Cross community, near and far.
The alumni lost on 9/11 are:
These alumni will be remembered on campus at masses and prayer services on Sunday, Sept. 11.
Billy Collins ’63, an alumnus of the College and poet laureate at the time of the attacks, wrote “The Names,” a poem dedicated to the victims of 9/11, which was read before a special joint session of Congress held in New York in 2002. The poem is included below.
“The Names” by Billy Collins
Yesterday, I lay awake in the palm of the night.
A soft rain stole in, unhelped by any breeze,
And when I saw the silver glaze on the windows,
I started with A, with Ackerman, as it happened,
Then Baxter and Calabro,
Davis and Eberling, names falling into place
As droplets fell through the dark.
Names printed on the ceiling of the night.
Names slipping around a watery bend.
Twenty-six willows on the banks of a stream.
In the morning, I walked out barefoot
Among thousands of flowers
Heavy with dew like the eyes of tears,
And each had a name —
Fiori inscribed on a yellow petal
Then Gonzalez and Han, Ishikawa and Jenkins.
Names written in the air
And stitched into the cloth of the day.
A name under a photograph taped to a mailbox.
Monogram on a torn shirt,
I see you spelled out on storefront windows
And on the bright unfurled awnings of this city.
I say the syllables as I turn a corner —
Kelly and Lee,
Medina, Nardella, and O’Connor.
When I peer into the woods,
I see a thick tangle where letters are hidden
As in a puzzle concocted for children.
Parker and Quigley in the twigs of an ash,
Rizzo, Schubert, Torres, and Upton,
Secrets in the boughs of an ancient maple.
Names written in the pale sky.
Names rising in the updraft amid buildings.
Names silent in stone
Or cried out behind a door.
Names blown over the earth and out to sea.
In the evening — weakening light, the last swallows.
A boy on a lake lifts his oars.
A woman by a window puts a match to a candle,
And the names are outlined on the rose clouds —
Vanacore and Wallace,
(let X stand, if it can, for the ones unfound)
Then Young and Ziminsky, the final jolt of Z.
Names etched on the head of a pin.
One name spanning a bridge, another undergoing a tunnel.
A blue name needled into the skin.
Names of citizens, workers, mothers and fathers,
The bright-eyed daughter, the quick son.
Alphabet of names in a green field.
Names in the small tracks of birds.
Names lifted from a hat
Or balanced on the tip of the tongue.
Names wheeled into the dim warehouse of memory.
So many names, there is barely room on the walls of the heart.
The poem was remembered by PBS on the 10th anniversary of the attacks; a recording of Collins’ reading the poem can be found on the PBS website.
Read remembrances of Holy Cross alumni lost on 9/11 from Holy Cross Magazine.
Keeping the families of those listed and so many others related to student and other members of the Holy Cross community in my prayers.