A Little Brother Remembers
Those halcyon days before a plan crash over New York City killed my older brother. Read my story in the New York Times.
Journalist and Writer
Those halcyon days before a plan crash over New York City killed my older brother. Read my story in the New York Times.
3 Responses to “A Little Brother Remembers”
One of the most poignant stories I have read. It captures the emotion of the tragedy and shows how a family really provides the foundation of life. Extremely well written – you are really drawn into the story. Bill is an outstanding writer.
Hi Bill. I took time and read most of the story”A Little Brother Remembers.” Excellent writing. Thank you for sharing this story with readers. I remember coming to your house for a 4th of July picnic. You have a big heart. Thanks again for sharing, and write some more. JA.
I remember being in the third grade when this happened
And recall my parents hovering around the TV riveted to the mayhem that was being televised in black and white and it when on well into the evening as TV had been preempted. A classmate of mine lost a relative in the crash as he was on the TWA that came through Dayton, Ohio, my home. As a seven year old it frightened me until well into my teens as I considered flying to be like Russian Roulette. I thought that your chances were fifty/fifty of surviving a plane flight until I finally boarded a plane when I was 18 years old to Atlanta Georgia. I remember never wanting a family member to ride on a plane. Then, low and behold my mother took a flight to New York City the following Summer to meet my Grandmother. When I watched her go up the stairs to the plane I thought I’d never see her again. I recall watching Mr Baltz On TV back in 1960 and my Dad sarcastically saying,” Boy are they ever going to have a nice Christmas. You see, when was 2 1/2 years old my Brother, Mother, and I survived a gas explosion at our home leaving my mother badly burned. My brother and I came out unscathed and were rescued, mainly because my Brother and I were down low and beneath the smoke. The explosion is my very first memory. So fire, skin grafts, and misery were no strangers to our family, which explains my father’s sarcasm. With 85% of his body burned Steven Baltz would have had rough ground to hoe until he would have fully recovered. William’s story is fascinating as it catches an era frozen in time for me because the similarities between our lives and the Baltz family were astoundingly similar right down to the umbrella tent. I’m writing this to thank William Baltz for his story because I wanted him to realize how many people were affected by the event, because many of us are interested in how a family goes on after such a horrific event. I’m sure it was like tearing off a huge scab. Thanks, William.