09.29.24 A nice night in Brooklyn...

      My Mom always says that one of her greatest joys is spending time with her adult children. I get it, and agree. This girl. Well, this woman. All growned up and nearly 28 years old. I got to take the ride, albeit 4 hours, into the heart of Brooklyn to Crown Heights and enjoy a hang, some dinner, and to tackle a few handyman type projects around her apartment. 

     For dinner we hit a place called Muse Thai where I went legit from the beer, called Singha, to a Massaman Roll appetizer, to a Crispy Pork Belly over Jasmine Rice main dish. The food was great but the company better.

I don't usually get one on one time but it was overdue and something we have to make more of a priority. Daughters need their dads, and dads need their daughters. And what's funny is there doesn't need to be an agenda, just being in the same space works for me. 

     We also hit a Home Depot which was about 4 miles away the way the bird flies but about a 45 minute drive. We picked up some things like blinds and a shelf kit which I expertly, I don't know how, mounted into the masonry walls in her kitchen. My project completion rate usually hovers around 80% 

hovers around 80% but this came in at 100%. I was so confident I actually pulled down on it and it surprisingly held tight. This morning we walked in the rain through the transitional neighborhood she now calls home. As we walked to a bagel place each building was in a different state of a homeness with a diverse mix of residents. There were people on the way, some on the way down, and some who seem to be stuck. When you drive or walk around, some things, like young white women, just seem out of place in places like Bed-Sty, Bushwick, and sections of Crown Heights. Most are there because they have been priced out of Manhattan or the neighborhoods of Brooklyn along the East River. 

     Years ago when I was in the business I would meet FDNY firefighters protecting these rough and tumble neighborhoods, which now they couldn't afford to live in and have a cafe or latte place on every other corner. I give her props, and the others doing what they have to do these days to survive. I just don't know how they will ever establish roots, like a buying a house, when so much of their income goes towards rent. While I wish she lived around the corner I am proud of what she has become and how she keeps on truckin' in this thing called life. 

09.28.24 Trying hard not to sweat the small stuff...

 

....and most of life is just small stuff. As many of you know my friend, and a friend to thousands of people, Bob Popovics, was critically injured in a hit and run accident this past Monday. He remains at Jersey Shore Medical Center today. That's not the small stuff. And while I am rocked by this, and trying  to resist day to day small stuff from getting to me, it is life, and life does go on. We've all been there before. We get jolted by something or when someone we know and love has their bad day, but life around us all goes on. Life doesn't pause for anyone. And, at times, that just adds to our own anger and grief. Keep Bob and his family in your prayers. 

     The above pic, taken by Tom Lynch, is just fantastic. It shows Bob in his beloved rose garden at his beloved Shady Rest where he works with his beloved partner Alexis and his family. He's looking down, probably at his phone where he is commenting on someone's half-ass tied fly posted on social media, giving them positive feedback and encouragement, that's just the guy that Bobby is. 

     So Since Monday I've let the small stuff get in my way. Problems at work. Problems with the 1,000 jokers on Facebook Marketplace telling me they're coming for a pick-up, and even getting to a CT scan 

appointment over in Staten Island. Add to that our getting ready to put our down dog who's losing her bladder everywhere in the house, and that's just some of it. All small, all annoying, but in no way in the realm of real life stuff people we know are going through. It's just life. 

     I remember when Ryan passed away. I remember the days of his wake and funeral. Who was there or not? Who wasn't there but posted pics of them at a party holding up a drink or a large striped bass they caught that day. Other peoples lives go on, it just is what it is. And what's ironic, is when those people have their turn in the shit barrel, they then see and ask, "How can their (others) day to day life, at the moment, go on?", while they, or I, are having the worst moments of life. 

     So, I'll go there, because it is what it is. This past week my 2004 Jeep started sounding wonky. Old things, like people, experience that. So I took Theresa's car to work on Friday and left her with my old bucket of bolts. I wasn't surprised when I got that call, "You're car broke down and AAA is on the way". My first concern was for her safety, check, the cops made sure of that. My mind goes to her getting rear ended as she sat on the shoulder waiting for the tow. I made my way to her location and swapped out spots with her. 

      The tow truck driver was a nice young guy. He was ecstatic. This week he and his wife are expecting their first child. He rushes every tow just in case it was go time. The events in his life this week could bring him the greatest joy and memories someone could experience. As we drove to my house to drop it off I thought of the small and big things. For me, my friend in the ICU, my cars broke down, and the dog might have to be put down. But, here's another human expecting one of the best days of his life. Life goes on and it is what it is. 

     On Friday I dove in under the hood and onto the You Tube videos. The car had spit the belt, not shredded it. I went and replaced the belt and the idler and tension pulleys. But to do that I had to remove the alternator and the bracket because I had snapped off the pot-metal tension arm. So I had to drill it out. After all that I fired her up and it spit it again. Upon further You Tubing I have diagnosed the problem as a "Harmonic Equalizer" problem. Which calls for the radiator to be removed as it's the largest and lowest pulley that goes into the driveshaft. From what it looks like it's a job, and one that will take me 5xs the time it would take someone in the know. Couple that with no lift and a five dollar tool set this should be interesting. Needless to say I'll be running my pick-up. Luckily that's a project I completed, almost. 

     In the end we're all in this together. We all have our suck. Sometimes it's a big suck and other times not so much. Let the small things go. We can't control others or life itself. But what we can do is be aware that someone next to us might be going through the worst of times. So be good to yourself, and each other. 

09.25.24 For my friend...

"May you gain strength each minute from those who love and are praying for you. Godspeed."

09.23.24 They say time heals all wounds....

 Yes they say time heals all wounds. It kinda does because that day of suck, whatever it was, is always worse on Day 1 then it is seven years later. And that goes for the good things in life as well. Dating and the big wedding day rather than....well you know. But, either way, one things is for sure, life really just goes too dam quick and if you don't steer it in your right direction you just remain on another course and wind up some where you would rather not be. That's in your head, in your marriage, your job, or where you sleep each night. 

     It's been been seven years since Theresa woke me up and told me about Ryan down in the basement. And since then it's been a roller coaster of emotion regarding Ryan, how it affected my family, suicide, and how I perceive and process other peoples suck and trauma that each of has or will experience in life. In the end we all have to acknowledge where in this together and everyday we will meet someone who is having their worst day, or maybe the anniversary of their worst day. 

    I chose the top photo to remember Ryan this day as it was a good day. It's somewhere around 2000-2001. It was another day when the boys would come and visit me at the firehouse in Newark. This one on Mulberry and Lafayette Streets where the Prudential Center now sits. So that's a loss. And that's me as a fireman in Rescue 1, some of the best times of my life were in that role, and that's a loss. I see I have on a new and shiny front piece which replaced one that was all beat up from fire duty, and not going to fires for the last 19 years since retirement, is another loss. If I look closely I can see my Essex County College Nursing School pin on my helmet, funny how I'm still connected to that school these days. 

     And maybe the biggest loss, besides Ryan not being around, for like yesterday to help me with our yard sale, is just being "that guy" to my kids. Yes, we want them to grow and do their own thing but there is also a loss when times like in the above picture are just a memory. I thought about taking off work today and going fishing. I do that on Ryan's Anniversary but I have to work to do and today falls on a work day. I'll remember him, and the suck that today was seven years ago, and try to do for others in some way. 

     If I had to say what losing a child is like, and I guess it can be the same for any great loss. It's like going into heart failure. If your heart is supposed to pump with 100% of force, after losing a kid it's like 50%. Your heart still beats and you get by, but everyday it's lets you know it's not at 100%. 

RIP buddy Ryan Michael Archer 8/18/96- 9/23/17

     

09.22.24 Taking baby steps forward....

     What a beautiful weekend to hit the yard sales and flea markets. Or you could do the right thing and have your own. And that's what we did. We decided this week to do a purge of stuff we have in and around our house. We anticipated heavy traffic but two things we learned was, one, living on a busy street, and having your "front yard" in your backyard doesn't lend to good paying customers stopping by. 

    We ran it Saturday and Sunday, 8 hours each day. We started off with the biggest sale in the two barely used kayaks which went for $250 and then it was a pick here and there. We moved some stuff, a lot I guess, with the Sunday ending till coming in at $1,250. 

     But now there's still "stuff" littering the yard and driveway. What to do? The last thing we want to do is drag it back in the house so the next few days Theresa will have donation duty going on. 

     And why am I writing about this and what does this have to do with a fishing blog? Everything. I remember when we moved from Red Bank to Titusville and all the fishing adventures it brought to my life. Well, with a big move to South Carolina in the works this is just part of The Average Angler's story. 

We're staying focused and it's been three months since we got back....only a year or two away till the house goes on the market. 

What's funny is we don't like the heat, not much for the beach and never really listened to Jimmy Buffet. What could go wrong? 

09.19.24 Well there's a point of no return...

     Sometimes things just make sense. And then when we do them something clicks in our head making us think we made a mistake. This couldn't have been more true when I listed the motor on me and Jim's boat for sale. Jim purchased his boat back in 1996. Surprisingly to me his original boat came with a Yamaha 130 hp two-stroke engine on it.

I thought that all of the Jones Brothers 19'10" Cape Fisherman came with a 150 hp motor on it. Some six years later Jim re-powered with a 175 Yamaha HPDI. A motor that was different than others at the time, and supposedly better on gas mileage and power, I think. 

     Now 1996 is a long ways back. It was the year Ryan was born, and as of last month he would have been 28 years old. That 175 would be 22 years old this year, not a spring chicken by any means. But it was well cared for and not used all that much as Jim kept that boat out in Pottstown and used it in the salt water. And since he passed in 2018 and during my tenure with it it hasn't seen but a few days out on the water. But that said, when I did want to service it before getting it wet, it was hard to find someone willing to open her up, "It's a death by 1,000 cuts", they told me over at Gateway Marine. So I bought it over to Mercer Marine. 

     So as we have started our two-three year New Jersey exit plan hopefully heading to Hilton Head the question became, "What do I do with the boat?". I love this boat, loved mine, until I sold it, and now love Jim's. And I love that I was able to continue Jim's "Brine Fly" journey, even if that's just making the move from Pottstown to Titusville, and sitting in our driveways. 

     The few times I did have the boat out it I was always nervous if not trying to figure out what was wrong with it. when Leif and I would give it a go we'd start backing the boat in the water and then 

pulling it back out when it didn't start. That happened more than once. That all led me to not have much confidence in it and always left me nervous, "Should we try and shut it down while we fish?" was a common question. But after we got underway we had some really good days out on her. And then there was that one cold December morning in 2020. That was just a flukey thing. And yes I had the wheels on the truck chocked. 

     Last week I talked with Paul Eidman who has done the old-Jones Brothers 19'10" makeover in the past. New poly tank replacing a metal one, redoing the supports and the deck, and re-powering it. At some point I would have had to do the same to my original Jones. That's just the way it is.

     So I came up with a realistic plan. The boat really needs a make-over, like a good one. Not a patch job here and there but a stripped-down naked kind of makeover. Why have a 22-year old motor, and a finicky one at that, that isn't easy to get parts for or someone to work on it, sitting in my driveway for another cold winter? Let me take the plunge and sell the motor and go forward. 

     

    Eidman said the motor might be worth $1,200 and would probably be snatched up from someone who wants to send it overseas or use it for parts. So I put it up for $2,000 and waited. Just like other Facebook Marketplace posts I got 1,000 hits and plenty, "Is this available?". The first guy whop came I talked out of it. I just couldn't. He was a nice guy who knew less than me and wasn't familiar with HPDI engines. If he gave me a $100 after talking him out of it I would have taken it because I know I saved the guy a ton of headache and money. 

    My next guy was local. He had a center console that he ran a 175 HPDI on and he loved the motor. He was also a Yamaha dealer at some point so this was in his wheelhouse. He and his BIL came over 

and just wanted to see the boat. No salesman required. He compression tested all the cylinders. He checked the fuel pump. Then he asked to give a start a try. It fired right up. My heart sank. Did I do the wrong thing? He was happy as a clam while I had a pit in my stomach. He then went over saying how he would replace the head gaskets and this and that which was way over my head, that conversation, made me feel a little better. With the motor still on the boat and his shop just over the bridge in Pennsylvania I suggested just taking it and doing what he had to do. Nice guy, I trust him, so we'll see. 

     He loaded the boat up and made his way down the driveway. I took some pictures as I always do and then gave chase when I saw I still had Jim's old plate on it. He stopped and said, "Second thoughts?" and for a minute I didn't know how to answer. But I think I'm good. Now I have to give Donnie Jones a call and see what tank he wants me to get for the boat and see if he would like to do the tank and deck portion of the refurbishment. When I say spongy I'm afraid to see what's really going on underneath.

09.18.24 So much for the Harvest Moon...

     It's a moon I always looked forward to. It's kinda like that August Sturgeon Moon they look froward to out in Montauk and Block Island. Guys and gals plan their fishing outings on that moon because historically good things happen in and around it. Now some will say you never fish on the moon with the best days leading up to and after the new or full. 

     I've kind of complained about it here over the years as I age and become more of a curmudgeon. "Things aren't like they used to be....." yeah yeah, we know. But really it's true. Even during the dog days of summer we would pop up or use crab flys to catch those early morning bass before the crowds and the heat would hit the beach. And then it was a transition into fall when the air and water temps would drop usually after a cold spell mixed with some Indian Summer days. But now it's all or nothing. Winter becomes summer and summer becomes winter. The spring and falls aren't what they used to be. Everything these days, including the weather, is extreme.

     And that can be seen in the striped bass vacation and migration. "Resident" fish, while I am sure they are around, just don't stick like they used to. As I have said before they are changing the rules of engagement. Add some beach replenishment in there and why would you stay? 

     What used to be a fall run is now "Early-winter blitz fishing". There's nothing, then there's a million fish, and then there's nothing. They up and go like a fart in the wind. What used to be the hunt to find the fish when they show has now become more of trying to beat the crowds in an attempt to both find your own fish before the seasonal blitz guys line the beaches like they do up on the Salmon river. 

     Last fall, like the year before, I put my time in and found the crowds and the fish really good on some days. Most outings it was jumping into the hot tub after the seats were already taken. On a few banner days I either got lucky or calculated in my head where they might show and found my own fish, in the end only to be crowded out or frustrated having to not catch the possessed blitz fishermen not paying attention to other people around them or a fly guys backcast. It is what it is, or it was what it was. 

     After a hard days work yesterday, and yes teaching is hard, as it's three, six, or twelve hour shifts on your feet talking for just about the entire time. It's not, like say work like firefighting, but it gets tiring especially if you leave nothing in the tank trying to get students engaged and on board. 

      My body and mind are programmed for the striped bass migration. Something in my brain's wiring and in my body remind me each spring and fall that it's go time, and I have really looked forward to it. So when I got home after a chat with Leif while driving down the New Jersey Turnpike I sat in my old-man recliner and settled in for a Tuesday's dose of Dateline or Beat Bobby Flay which usually puts me to sleep. But then I thought why not go? If you don't go then you won't know. 

     The tides are high for this big moon a little after sunrise and sunset. If I went it would still be "normal" hours and I could go and be tucked into bed by midnight. Unless I worked the third shift as the big water fell it would be another two hour drive, one there and back, to fish for an hour or so. So that's what I did. 

     I got down about an hour after high tide just as the big flood tide started to ebb. In the back the recent run of NE winds didn't really have much of an effect on things and as the water moved so did the bait. I jumped a few spots but really never found what I was looking for, bass in feeding lanes keyed on the bait either struggling to avoid getting sucked out into the ocean or bait that got the memo it was time to go. What bait I did see was small and was fighting the current to remain in the mid-fall bathtub that is now the rivers and bays. 

     Most of my spots call for wading into the water but last night I would have had to wait for hours for that to happen. I don't know if I'm getting old or lost my mo-jo so I just gave myself an A for the effort, mostly fighting the urge to hit the rack early and for taking the drive, over a hard-core effort to find fish. What "fishing" I did do was dragging a tandem of flies through clouds of small bait hoping to get one of the sporadic small bluefish or bass blow-ups to find my offerings. It was more pathetic then fly fishing, 

kind of like those carnival games where you lowered a magnet to catch a fish. But I went and did it. I don't know if it was a good thing or bad. I think the last fish I caught was a hickory shad back on June 13th in Martha's Vineyard. It's been a long while since I put a hard days work of fishing in, and that would have been in late-June down in Hilton Head where I waded in 150 degree weather in alligator infested waters looking for tailing redfish. 

I remember the show "A Year Without a Santa Claus" growing up when I was a kid. I wonder if skipping things for a fall run might energize me a bit and give me a reset, or will something else move in to fill that void. Things are just different, and usually worse off in a way, then the way things used to be. I'm really not looking forward to all the social media posts and the hype of guys catching fish practically beaching themselves chasing bait onto the beach. I think it will just piss me off more than anything. And as I get old things tend to piss me off a lot and it's a struggle to remain pleasant and positive no matter how many times I tell myself to be thankful and grateful. 

09.15.24 Nice weekend down in Cape May...

 

     It's funny this place in Cape May. Love to have it but hate paying for it. With yearly "dues" around $9,000 it's not cheap but having a place to escape to for six months out of the year is just great. People argue that if you were to rent a place, like a house, for a week in Cape May or Wildwood Crest it would set you back $5 - $6,000. And while we think about selling it from time to time it only takes a great weekend, even a short one, to make us reconsider. And from real estate moves in the past, the Poconos and the Adirondacks, once they're sold and gone that's pretty much it. So we have a three year Hilton Head and Cape May plan, God willing. 

     And nothing says fall weekend in Cape May without hitting the yard sales. But we have remained laser focused to reduce our crap and not buy anything else. even finding a South Carolina flag for five bucks couldn't veer us of our path of decluttering. 

     But the same couldn't be said for the French fry holder we found for $3. what an invention. No more McDonald's, better than Burger King, fries falling between the seats. This fits in the cup holder and has 

a vent holder for your sauces or for ketchup if you prefer to choke them down that way. Of course at some pint I had to field test this piece of geniusness and it worked as designed. 

    After dinner at Lucky Bones, where I had the best mussels in a long time, along with a few Guinness', we did the Washington Street walk. We dropped a $20 for the Mercedes Benz offered for raffle by Our Lady of the Sea Church and had some very expensive, isn't everything these days, at a newer ice cream shop. While walking on Bank Street I stopped at Andrea 

Trattoria Italiana where they offered up a striped bass entree for $36. We don't have a commercial fishery for striped bass here in New Jersey and it can't be sold at local markets or offered for sale, at least I guess wild striped bass. I think they should, for $36, let you know that it's farmed striped bass 

you'd be getting. Seems a tad steep for that. Now in states that do have commercial fishing they can offer them up for sale at a restaurant, just not in Jersey. 

     During one of our walks we stopped at the marina and I watched a guy, well several guys, load up some really nice boats onto some really nice trailers pulled by some really nice trucks. I wouldn't say I'm jealous but maybe a tad envious. Tis' the season for the boat angler as the 

blues, albies, bonito, and striped bass are starting their fall invasions and migrations. But that's okay, I'm sitting good, I have my eye on the Hilton Head prize. This week I decided that in order to really get to 

use and enjoy Jims, well my, boat I'll have to deconstruct it to move forward. I asked Paul Eidman who's done the gas tank replacement, deck redo, and repowering for some advice. We talked about the value of the 2002 175 HPDI and the cost of getting a new engine. So I decided to list it on Marketplace before heading south on Friday. 

     My plan is to sell the engine and move forward with the tank and deck replacement. To say the deck is spongy is an understatement. Now the decision is to reach out to Donnie Jones or Matt Marjorie down at Jones to see what they would recommend. 

    The ride home was easy and pretty. Fall is here and some of the foliage is starting to turn. We made a quick left off 206 at Mt. Holly where I met a guy who listed some Weather Tech front mats for the 

Silverado. At 22 years old I'm not buying anything new for her. After a quick hit with the pressure washer these are just perfect. That left some time back at home to meet up with a guy who came over to look at the engine. His plan, and he knows less than me about boat stuff, was to take this off and put it on a 18 foot Lund boat for the Delaware River. He had cash in hand, and was ready....but I couldn't. I did my best to talk him out of it. He would be getting into something he didn't need to be getting into. And then there was the Jets game and some schoolwork I had to put together for the week. 

     At some point there was some lax breaking news about a foiled assassination attempt on President Trump yet again. even with a slow news Sunday the coverage was less than appropriate, but that's the way things are these days. The Washington Post had it up on their site, describing it as an "episode". Like a seizure, or a re-run of All in the Family, or these days a Presidential assignation attempt. God get me out of this world and quick. 

09.13.24 First fall outing on Friday the 13th...

      

     With my body now getting used to early mornings it was no surprise I woke at 4 am on my day off. "What to do?". I could get some schoolwork done, or, I could go fishing. A quick check of the tides had me thinking positive. It's just about mullet time, I could catch first light, and it would be a few hours into the outgoing. 

     I started in the before sunup with a dark Hollow fly that swam like a mullet but had no takers. When light arrived I switched over to a Schoolie Fleye and swam that near and far off the beach with again no takers. I didn't see any bait or activity off in the distance. There was a smell in the air but it wasn't bunker, it was more like a warm smell, if you get that, and I could feel the warm air coming off the water and on my fly line as I retrieved. I was thinking with temps up I might find a fluke or two but that didn't happen. 

     After a bagel and coffee stop I went down to the inlet to see if anything, maybe albies or bonito, might be invading the outgoing water. Besides the head boats making their way out to sea and a few guys on each of the jetties it was dead. 

     We're a little past mid-moon, a waxing crescent, and I'm thinking on the next big moon, which will be full on the 17th, things might start to get going if the water temps drop a bit. It'll be the Harvest moon which is always a good time to fish, at least it has been in past years, like a decade ago. Thirteen years ago, on September 17th, 87 year old Al caught a nice keeper (below) when the mullet met up with the bass. On his rod is his favorite "Creek Chub" lure, which I got from his family after he passed away. I really do miss that guy. 

09.11.24 Yes, it's been 23 years....

    "Never Forget" is something you hear or see when it comes to the events that happened on 09/11/2001. And today people from all over the world will stop and pause and remember what happened 23 years ago. 23 years. How many people in the country weren't born yet or were too young to remember what happened. It was the largest attack that has ever occurred on American soil. Besides the over 3,000 people that died directly due to the highjacked planes crashing at the World Trade Center, Shanksville, Pennsylvania, 

and the Pentagon, thousands have died from 9/11 injury and illness since then. Thousands of survivors still suffer from the mental and physical injuries suffered while they tried to escape the attacks and then ran in to try and rescue and recover the victims. 

    I took the top picture I believe on Day 3 while at the WTC. Back in the day digital SLR-type cameras were in its infancy and cell phone technology had just evolved. Some, but not all, of the flip phones had a camera built in that allowed for low resolution image capture. But during my time on the fire 

department I would keep a supply of disposable cameras in my locker at work with usually one wrapped in a plastic bag in my turnout coat. When I responded to Ground Zero on the 12th, after a day working with evacuees at UMDNJ on 9/11, I had one of those cameras in my pocket. Between shuttles back and forth to Newark to work in the firehouse on the nights of the 11th and 12th I would leave a camera, which had 36 exposures, and put a few more in my pocket for the next day. If you know me then you know I'm a photojournalist at heart, and nothing is off the table when it comes to shooting. 

     When I think of that top photo I wonder how many men and women have died due directly related to their exposure. Obviously, if you were there when the towers fell, you were exposed to a cloud of dust and debris like no others. And if you were in a panic while running for your life it would be hard to

control your heart rate and breathing so whatever was in the air got planted deep inside your lungs and body. I remember the next few days after the towers fell. The weather was beautiful, and with that, the smoke and dust clouds remained suspended in the air. It wasn't until Friday I think when a welcomed drenching rain came and sat those particulates down on the ground, making breathing easier. 

     Every now and then, but usually around 9/11, I drag out the old photo album to see and remember. The images unlock a safe of sights, smells, and images from deep in some corner 

                                    

of my brain. Couple that with other peoples recollections and tributes and I can be transported back and vividly remember those five days like it was last month, which is interesting because I have a hard time remembering what I did last week. 

     Early on several organizations put together treatment centers for those who were at the Trade Center on the day or the days after. My first stop in 2003 was Fulton Street in Lower Manhattan where I joined other cops and firemen at a Scientology-run program to "detoxify" the toxins that were trapped in our bodies. Tom Cruise had a hand in it as he was one of the more popular spokesman for the religion, or cult. We would drink large amounts of niacin, then run on a treadmill, and then sit in a steam room, with other guys and gals, for four hours. The idea was the cancerous toxins would be excreted from the body through sweat. My wife at the time would sit in the waiting room as I was inside for "treatment". With the commute into NYC, and the length of the day, and some skepticism on my part, I only lasted two sessions. But I was thankful that early on someone was trying to help. 

     And around that time, in 2003, Mt. Sinai started The World Trade Center Worker and Volunteer Medical Screening Program. It was open to people who worked at Ground Zero and the Staten Island Landfill where all the debris was trucked from Lower Manhattan to be searched again for any human remains.

     I joined that program in it's infancy in 2004 knowing really that it was happening for two reasons. First, to help people and monitor and treat them, and second, to track the illnesses and deaths due to exposure. I can't tell you how many conversations we had down at Ground Zero about how we were all surely going to die one day from being there. 

    In 2010 The James Zadroga 9/11 Health and Compensation Act of 2010 was passed ensuring funding would continue to provide screening and treatment for the survivors and workers. Zadroga was a NYPD cop and one of the first to die from 9/11 related illness. The program increased in participant numbers and the amount of services offered. Today, the now named World Trade Center Health Program, monitors and treats 80,000 people. Over the years several clusters and diagnosis's have been directly related to exposure at Ground Zero. In 2013 I underwent sinus surgery, and will probably be returning to the table within the next year for a re-do. 

     But what is sad is that this morning at the coffee pot people will most likely be talking about the Presidential debate that occurred last night rather than 9/11. To me, it was poor timing, and almost, now I'm no conspiracy theorist, well, things happen for a reason sometimes. If you were alive you remember how together we were as a country after 9/11. We have went to shit over the last few decades but there was always that pause on the anniversary days of 9/11 and for just a moment a fleeting glimpse of togetherness and patriotism would shine through. The "powers" that be like division. It's easier to divide and conquer that way.  

     And to the debate. I hate politics. I don't have a side. I'm an independent voter. But I couldn't wait to watch it as I felt it was my duty to do so. Now, without knowing all the truths and less than truths on both sides I will say this after watching the "performances" by both. Harris was the clear winner. The momentum started the moment she crossed the line and went over to shake Trump's hand. 

     Sometimes it's not the content that is verbalized as much as it is how it's delivered. Harris was well prepared and stepped away from her previous word salad and cackling that we have seen before. She was well prepared and on-point, her point that is. Trump, well, spit the bit, as they say in horse racing. She was the aggressor, she was the hunter, baiting him, and he just couldn't help himself as he drove his points into a brick wall. He had his moments but overall he faltered.

     There's ways to make a point. "People eating pets", C'mon man. Even if it's true isn't there a way to make your point that appears that you have some insight and polish? Couldn't he have made the claim, "There are challenges in cities like Smithfield, Ohio where illegal immigrants have risen the population there from 45,000 to 60,000 which puts a strain on housing, local services and healthcare"?. And if he did need to go to the animal eating, " It's hard for an influx of that amount of people in a short time to have access to food, and I have heard reports where people are catching and eating local wildlife, and even pets, to survive". I'm not trying to say that's happening, or he should have said it, but he's just not talking to his base out here. 

     And then there's the media bias....C'mon man. I hope both sides can call it like it was. The moderators clearly treated each debatee differently. So it was no surprise that post-debate the Harris team was all in looking for an another debate before the election. Like sharks in the water smelling blood that are looking for the knock-out Trump punch. She has his goat. And again I'm not talking about points made or not made by both sides. It was more so how they appeared and performed. 

     The debate should have been last week or next. There was no mention of 9/11 during the debate, which I think would have been appropriate. Touching on national security and safety would have been timely and showed that either of the candidates, or the moderators, were in touch with thousands, or even millions of people, who spend today in some pain, emotional or physical, remembering what happened to all of us 23 years ago.