e-book Miss You, Pat: Collected Memories of NYs Bravest of the Brave, Captain Patrick J. Brown

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He played his saxophone for us as we sat on the sofa, then was called aside by his wife for diaper duty. How easily I plugged into that teeming street energy, and with it, the tactile seediness. My suburban backdrop faded into history—bland ranch houses reflecting even blander life prospects , slow trawls through the local hangout, McDonalds with a newly acquired drivers license , unrequited crushes on boys both squeaky clean jocks and the shadier rebels without a cause —all just an out-of-town tryout for the stage set before me.

Irish bars with wafts from steam table fare and stale beer snaking over the sidewalks, pawnshops beckoning with diamond rings and musical instruments long abandoned by desperate owners, shoeshine men stationed on high-traffic corners with stained fingers whipping the rag, over and over, and tired hookers tucked into sooty SRO doorways trying to meet nightly quotas for their pimps, who, like cockroaches, were rarely seen in the light of day. Enveloping, even nurturing, while soaring above it all was that ever-seductive siren, the Broadway theater world: Other than ticket prices, nothing has changed in all these years.

Awakening sounds from the orchestra pit start to tease, first with strings, tickling the inner thigh of seated anticipation. Sly foreplay crescendoes with woodwinds, brass, percussion, until the Overture erupts in symphonic ecstasy.

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Lights dim, the curtain finally parts; I am pulled in as the world outside dissolves into nothingness. Back then, this experience was a seismic orgasm for a small-town virgin. With my modest monthly allowance, I somehow managed to see almost every play that came to life within the neon trapezoid that encompassed the theater district. I would arrive at intermission break, mingle with the crowd outside, then enter with them for the second act. Making my way up to the rear balcony, I discreetly nestled on the aisle steps, unreported by the paying seat holders and unnoticed by the usherettes in their prim white collars and black cardigans.

By now, they were far too jaded to the magic happening on stage. The first play I remember sneaking into was Jesus Christ Superstar.

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Here it was on stage in full, bizarre, glam rock excess, putting in the limelight my crush dilemma from the past. Jesus Christ, representing the highly desirable and parentally-approved high school jocks. In the other, Judas Iscariot, pinch-hitting for all the doubters, the questioners, the misunderstood and, of course, sexy James Deans.


More nervous anticipating a Broadway stage actor than I would have been with a true messiah, I threaded after Jesus into a nearby bar. Thus blessed, I headed back to the Y, leaving him on his bar stool with whatever libations liberated him from the shackles of being the Son of God.

On the darker side, Ben Vereen was a hypnotizing Judas, and I would have kissed his betraying lips and followed him anywhere. This was my introduction to Bob Fosse, who would put his stylistic stamp on much of the decade with trailblazing choreography and cynical, deadpan delivery, topped off by a rakishly angled bowler hat.

Kicking my army bag under the seat, I forgot the forgettable plot and focused on those mesmerizing, thrust forward hips, the R-rated pantomime, the beckoning suggestiveness that seemed to correspond with my arrival to the city. Sharon Watts spent forty formative years in New York City soaking up street energy when it was so tactile you could scrape it off your feet with a chopstick. I loved reading this.

Miss You, Pat

What a burst of nostalgia. Glad it stirred up some memories for you. I loved every word of this as well! This book is not yet featured on Listopia.

MBR: Reviewer's Bookwatch, February

Feb 26, Brian T rated it it was amazing. What a great book.

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I'm blown away by Paddy Brown's story. The author really gives a fitting send off to a rare modern day hero. This book is going to stay with me for a long time Feb 17, Christina Francine rated it it was amazing Recommends it for: Anyone who needs inspiration, Those interested in , Those who need to know heroes still exist. Some people should not be either. What love has a man? One that is selfless. He paves a path to excellence.

Reviews of Miss You, Pat

Okay, Three Truck and we are still heading up. Brown Captain Patrick Brown was a highly decorated firefighter. He was a Vietnam veteran, a yoga student, and his courage is legendary. Pat was a hero long before occurred, but this day proved that. He had been one of eleven men from his squad of twenty-seven.

They were last in the twin tower collapses. Pat died in the North tower. They are real and fight the odds. Some hear our calls and then respond; give all they have — even at the cost of themselves. His name was Captain J.

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  4. Brown of the New York Fire Department. The author of Miss You, Pat heard from so many people who were touched by Pat, that she began writing everything down and compiled all of it. Then, when she was the enormity of letters and pictures placed at Grand Central Station, she realized the size of the paths Pat crossed; Watts decided moments needed space in a book.

    She also shares that she and Pat were once engaged to be married. For example, he volunteered giving time to teach blind people self-defense. From the spoken words of influential leaders, to emotionally powerful lyrics in a song, heroic audio is all around us. Watch this short video for more information. Viola Vaughn of 10, Girls. Jacques Cousteau Not only did Cousteau show us the beauty we have yet to explore in our own oceans, but the importance of nature in general.

    Our gallery features art in the theme of heroism. All artworks in our commercial free, age-appropriate Gallery are contributed by professional and student artists as well as curated from art institutions around the world.

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