|
“It is the bright day that will bring forth
the adder.” - Julius Caesar
by William Shakespeare
 |
| Danes at the 9/11 memorial
service |
| Photo by Kevin Lambert |
It was another bright day. Sunny blue skies, gentle
breezes, quite warm -- the kind of weather that
makes it a crime to be indoors. As one Dane put
it, “We haven’t had this kind of summer
in 635 years.”
Copenhagen, like many friends of the U.S. around
the world, held a memorial service for September
11, starting at the exact minute that religious
fanatics launched the attacks that were to change
the world.
Radhus Square, which is a large plaza facing City
Hall, was full. It is also full of history -- it
was in that spot, in 1943, the occupying Nazis machine-gunned
a batch of resistance fighters, forcing their families
to look on. At this year's service, some tourists
happened to stumble into it, but most Danes there
felt that they had to show up, to put their face
in the crowd. A host of dignitaries came to speak,
but Danes are not that awed by their public servants.
A 17-piece band, the RadioUnderholdningsOrkestret,
was onstage, playing impeccably, but Danes can hear
good music anywhere. What brought them was the feeling
that they had to respect and honor their friends.
Leif Jensen, a Dane who came all the way from Aarhus
with his Afghan-born wife, said, “I had to
be here on this day.”
At precisely 4:28 p.m., the moment that the first
plane hit the World Trade Center, Borgmeister (Mayor)
Sorn Pind welcomed the crowed. There were speeches
by Politik newspaper editor in chief Karsten Madsen
and Vicestatsminister Bendt Bendtsen. Inger Dam-Jensen
sang “Ave Maria” with the RadiounderholdningsOrkestret
& the Broadway Singers Choir. The band played
Gershwin’s “Someone to Watch Over Me.”
U.S. Ambassador Stuart Bernstein, at times choked
with emotion, recalled the impromptu displays of
solidarity and affection last year, when the embassy
was “the focal point of well-wishers,”
who left flowers and cards. He had only been there
a couple of weeks, and he was truly overwhelmed.
Often, new appointed ambassadors think of their
new jobs in terms of mobs rioting outside. But in
the intervening year, he had come to know the Danes
well. “This time, he said, “I was equally
grateful, but less surprised.”
Sissel Kyrkjebo, a lovely young singer, gave a
rendition of “Amazing Grace” that took
care of the few dry eyes remaining in the crowd.
Then there was the moment of silence followed by
a rendition of the song “Altid frejdig nar
du gar,” The Danish anthem to their WWII resistance
heroes. Then it broke up. It broke up slowly, too,
a lot of people lingered, talking things over. It
was supposed to engender reflection. Asked why he
had come, one old gentleman said, “I love Americans.
I love the way they tackle problems.”
J.B. Priestly took the beginning quote and wrote
one of his best books around it. His bright day
was Edwardian England and WWI was the adder. Now
we have new snakes in our gardens, but we also have
some good friends. And if you can judge a country
by the quality of its friends and enemies, we seem
to be doing all right.
|
