September 11th, Twenty Years Ago

The nation pauses to remember those lost in the terrorist attack of September 11, 2001. As one person said today, so long ago, but like it was yesterday. 

Many Zoners hold Scarlet in their heart. My mind goes not only to her, but also to the brave firefighters and first responders who entered as others fled for their lives. And also to a fella by the name of Darren Bohan, just one of the many lives lost that day. His story resonated with me, as he reminded me of me and so many of my friends, and maybe many of you as well.

In the years after September 11th, I so wished we could go back to September 10th. Now with our country so divided, I wish we could go back to September 12th.   

Have a thoughtful day. 

Darren Christopher Bohan  

The Song in His Heart Will Always Go On

November 15, 2001    copyright - Newsday

A banjo, a mandolin, three guitars and little else filled the Kew Gardens apartment where Darren Bohan lived. The handwritten lyrics and song sheets scattered about chronicled his transformation from harmonica-playing teenager to locally touted guitarist.

"He was very committed, and he had quite an aptitude, especially since he was largely self-taught," said Bohan's older brother, Gary Jr., who was once a professional trumpet player. Bohan's early love of the Beatles, Woody Guthrie and other folk music melded in the bluegrass tunes he wrote and performed at jam sessions in Greenwich Village. Though he had decided to forgo life as a starving artist, obtaining a bachelor's degree in accounting from Sonoma State University, each day Bohan and his mandolin held a lunchtime serenade for his co-workers at the World Trade Center.

Bohan, 34, had recently accepted a temporary assignment at Aon Corp. to help with budgets. It was an irony his family could not have imagined. For much of his adult life, they had encouraged Bohan to get a traditional job. "He was a free spirit from A to Z," said Gary Bohan Jr. "He finally gets a job in accounting, and he gets there early ... " he said, his voice trailing off.

After attending high school in Hurley, N.Y., where he was raised, Bohan journeyed to Europe. Returning to the United States, he lived in Yosemite for almost 10 years, eventually becoming a tour guide for visitors and campers. "The environment was really important to him," said his cousin, Beth Udoma, who used to stay awake all night with Bohan, writing and singing funny songs. "He believed in the power of nature to heal. That was his religion."

Encouraged by the waterfalls and giant sequoias of Yosemite, a 20-year-old Bohan picked up a guitar and taught himself to play. His talent bloomed, leading him to experiment with several other instruments and, for a short time, to play in a band.

In his late 20s, Bohan returned to college. "I think he did want to become a professional musician eventually, but he was practical in the sense of realizing that you have to eat and you have to pay your bills," said his aunt, Noreen Kahlftorf.

Bohan wanted to have a family, and he knew that he needed to be more self-sufficient, Udoma said. "We called him a happy-go-lucky free-spirit, but he was in touch with his source," she said. "I don't think that people knew how connected he was with his own inner wisdom."

But even while easing his way into corporate America, Bohan's music never stopped. "For him, the art was 24/7," said Udoma.

At the memorial service held last month in Hurley, 350 people gathered in an oversized tent smack in the middle of an apple orchard. From the 2-foot-high stage, friends and relatives gave testimonials, read tributes, and played music -Bohan's music -all day and all night long.

-- Nedra Rhone (Newsday)

He played lunchtime serenades in the World Trade Center shade

The last time that he played was September 10th.