Thoughts and prayers to all those that have to relive the events and the pain from 9/11. From airline travelers, crew, people at and arriving to work at the Pentagon and World Trade Center and to the first responders, cops, fireman and EMS workers that perished. That day over 2,900 hundred people died, and since tens of thousands have become sick or died from exposure.
People identify as a 9/11 survivor or victim, and for so many the horror of that day will last forever. Then there are those that are 9/12 and beyond survivors, having responded and worked for so long and hard in the rescue qnd recovery efforts. Construction workers from all trades, and more cops and fireman and everyone in between who have become sick or died doing the hard work after 9/11.
For me 9/11 started on 9/11. I was 53 years old and on the job for 11 years and assigned to Newark's Rescue Co. 1. After the first plane hit I left my son Sean's kindergarten orientation and headed straight to Newark and Rescue 1's quarters on Mulberry Street where I worked. I sped up the Turnpike and looked over shortly after Tower 2 came down. My goal, in driving 100 miles per hour, was to make the rig heading into downtown Manhattan. But that wasn't to be. We were ordered to set up a hazardous materials decontamination set up at University Hospital for hundreds of patients coming from the waterfront towns after being evacuated by ferry. That meant setting up decon pools for showering, running hoses and shower heads, setting up tents for privacy, and then being on air tanks to decon (shower and bathe), everyone, women, men, children, all the clothes off and through the decon line. I felt bad for those people, but there was concern there might be dirty bombs involved.
That night I was scheduled to work in the firehouse and our Rescue Company was ordered to not leave the city, but some guys went over on their own after we returned from the decon operation at the hospital. By 5 am on the 12th my tour was relieved and we headed over, and did that each day on Septmeber 12, 13, 14 and 15. I also went back on the night of September 22nd, but by then the area was a crime scene and locked up tight. I worked for a bit, but it was recovery only. The above picture was taken shortly after we arrived the morning of September 12, Wednesday. And what is telling about that is I was an RN at the time and I stuffed that bag with everything I could as I thought I would be treating people that were rescued. I never opened that bag and it went back on the Rescue that night. There was no one to treat, no one still alive. We had to work the night of the 13th so it was there, back to Newark and back to NYC Thursday morning. What I remember was going to accidents and elevator jobs and fires those two nights and not wanting to be there, at all, as it was hoped that people were still trapped and need of rescueover in New York. On Thursday morning I brought my father and brother over, both Union Ironworkers, to assist with the cranes and heavy lifting.
I really don't like story telling and that isn't my intention here. What it is a time stamp. Currently my dad is battling cancer and I have some 9/11 health related things going on. Thankfully I'm part of the Mt. Sinai WTC Health Program and have been since 2004, monitored and treated for several things.
Who knows how long were going to live so it's always good, for context sake, to jot something down and remember. Today, when I was looking in the basment for my old fire photo albums I came across this bag. In it, and sealed, is the shirt I wore at Ground Zero for four days. It has never been opened. When I go I'm going to ask one of my family members to make sure someone in the know gets it if it will help the research and tracking.
The work was long and hard and for me more recovery than any rescue. The effort everyone puit down there was amazing as was the support from residents and people who came to volunteer. I remeber there was a station setup just of people cleaning out our noses, eyes and ears. They did that hours. Below is a picture of the Newark guys and my father and brother taking a break before heading back onto the pile.
I did find some shots from September 12th. I remeber when the below was taken. Fellow Rescue 1 firefighter Jay Noble and I had made our way way down into the the collapsed floors of the Marriot
WTC, which was 22 stories and known as 3 World Trade Center. We were floors and floors below the top of the rubble, but still above the street level. We didn't find anyone, alive nor deceased, even though we pushed and searched as much and as deep as we could.
Below is my family. Ryan, my brother, 24 at the time. I remember how hard he worked for hours and hours, never wanting to take a break. And then below that is my father, 55 at the time. He
spent his day in the rasing gang, hooking up beam after beam after beam for them to be moved by large cranes to clear areas or areas already searched. Later in the operation these would be loaded up onto trailers and taken to Staten Island where everything from Ground Zero was searched in case their were partial remains.
It's amazing to think that most of our kids don't remeber those days. Don't remember all the funerals. Don't remember how pissed off were. How united we were as Americans. It seems like 9.11.01 happened a lot longer than 20 years ago.