Page 12 THE MALDEN ADVOCATE–Friday, September 13, 2024 Creative Malden artists’ artful switchboxes Maria Cortes – Main and Winter Streets (Courtesy photo) hanks to the dedicated efforts of Malden Arts, which has been instrumental in building Malden’s public art collection, the city’s public spaces have been transformed through vibrant, community-focused iniT Karen Poon – Eastern Avenue and Ferry Street (Courtesy photo) tiatives. In collaboration with the City of Malden, Creative Malden took a leading role last year by organizing the painting of a dozen switchboxes, turning these everyday utility objects into distinctive works of art. Grace Julian Murthy – Branch and Salem Streets (Courtesy photo) Building on the success of the previous year, Creative Malden continued its mission this past summer by adding more artistically designed switchboxes. This was made possible by the contributions of talented local artists, inRachel Yu – Route 60 and Eastern Avenue (Courtesy photo) cluding Grace Julian-Murthy, Lisa Sears, Maria Cortez, Rachel Yu, Karen Pooh, Priyanka Vasagam and Bhagyshree Lulay. Together, these artists have enriched Malden’s public spaces by transforming ordinary switchboxes into vibrant ~ Guest Commentary ~ Remembering a Day in Our Lives By Jim Fabiano wonder if anyone still remembers? Has it evolved into a date in history only seen in textbooks or in on-line searches? Since that day we have experienced many times that are hard and changed our lives. The Covid-19 pandemic must be one of them with the ending of the war in Afghanistan being another that altered the way we viewed our nation and society. I still remember that day in my class with my students; that day when all our histories changed, that day I spend most of my life trying to not only understand, but to also believe. I just couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t express what I was feeling in words. I knew every one of those people who were condemned to die. I didn’t know their faces or their names, but I knew them all. They were husbands and wives of families working to make the people they were responsible for safe and comfortable. They were the children of families whose hard work and perseverance made their families proud. They were the grandparents who were almost ready to live out their lives doing something they had dreamed they wanted to do. They were also the young and tough men and women who decided their lives would not be equated by the dollar bill. They had decided their legacy would represent the best of the human spirit. They were the first to respond to people needing help. I They will be last ones we will find. There are certain days in our lives that define who we are and the path we will take in life. Mine occurred on November 22, 1963. I remember what I was doing and where I was. Hell, I even remember what I was wearing. I look at my students and realize that their day will be filled with unspeakable horror. Their defining moment will include hate, fear, and disbelief. My day started like all my other days. I was concerned with things that now have little importance. I was giving a test in one of my chemistry courses when my computer reported that one of the towers in New York City had been hit. I felt sorrow that such an accident could occur. But it was an accident, and accidents happen all the time. I decided to turn on a television that was located on the wall behind my desk at the front of my room. Another defining moment in my life had begun. A new defining moment for my students was about to be born. We watched in disbelief. The test no longer existed. The silence in the room was overcome by the crackled sounds coming from my old television located on the wall at the front of my room. One of my students came to my desk and asked if this was real. I told her it was, and, in her eyes, I saw a bit of hate because I didn’t tell her that this was some special effect from an old disaster movie. As she returned to her seat all I could say was, “I’m sorry.” We then watched as one of the towers burned. We watched brave men and women with unknown faces and names run toward the building to help. To do the jobs, they were trained to do. They wore thick black coats with bright yellow stripes, some with tanks draped across their back. They didn’t hesitate. They ran toward something they knew they had never seen before. They ran toward the disaster because they wanted to help. We continued to stare at my television located on the wall at the front of my room when we saw another plane. We watched in horror as we saw it disappear into the other tower and then explode through the other side. I didn’t hear anyone gasp or even breathe. I just heard total silence from my class, who was supposed to be taking a chemistry test. In a few seconds I heard one of my students exclaim, “Independence Day.” He had just spoken what they must have all been thinking. This couldn’t be real. It was never supposed to be real. We were promised that it would never be real. We watched as two of our nation’s grandest architectural marvels burned and filled the sky with smoke. We watched more of our nation’s finest run toward what seemed unreal. They did it because they were trained to do so. They did it because they wanted to. The commentators bellowed this was the worst kind of terrorist attack and that it could not be happening in our nation. All of us in my room heard little from the television located on the wall behind my desk in the front of my room. We only saw what was happening. The silence in my room was replaced by short almost silent sighs. I am not sure if it was coming from my students or from me. The pictures that were coming from my television located on the wall behind my desk at the front of my room now started to show something else. The fiery towers were no longer billowing smoke above a city that was never supposed to sleep. The pictures now showed another building in flames. A shorter building that was thought to be more powerful than any other building in the history of life. A building that was now broken and in flames. Once again, my students and I watched brave men and women with unknown faces and names run toward the building to help. To do the jobs, they were trained to do. They wore thick black coats with bright yellow stripes, some with tanks draped across their back. They did not hesitate. They ran toward something they knew they had never seen before. They ran toward the disaster because that was what they were supposed to do. “Are we at war, Mr. Fabiano?” I looked up and stared into the eyes of a large young man who appeared to be both afraid and angry. Before I could answer him, I noticed that my entire class was staring at me and waiting for my reply. They all had faces and names I knew. They were all destined to become the family leaders of tomorrow and the people that are trained to go into places simply to help other people. Before I could answer I watched all their eyes reach toward the television located on the wall behind my desk at the front of my room. They watched with their mouths open and in an attempt to close their minds as the spiked steeples above the burning towers started to spiral in a macabre kind of dance that made them disappear into a dense translucent fog. I knew I didn’t have to answer the question. It was answered for us all. The rest of my day was filled with the times that will be forever etched in all our minds. We watched the husbands and wives of families working to make the people they were responsible for safe and comfortable disappear. We watched the children of families whose hard work and perseverance made them their family’s pride being forced to leave their lives. We watched the grandparents who were almost ready to live out their lives doing something they had dreamed they could do never realize their dream because they were destined by someone else not to do so. I just couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t express what I was feeling in words. I still can’t. (Jim Fabiano is a retired teacher and writer living in York, Maine.) Bhagyashree Lulay – Charles and Commercial Streets (Courtesy photo) canvases that reflect the city’s diverse and dynamic character. As you walk, bike, or drive through Malden, take a moment to admire these beautiful and creative additions to the city’s landscape.
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