9/11

I guess I'm not as tough as I think I am.. or as I want to be.   I've been very aware that the 10 year "anniversary" of 9/11 is close.  But I've tried to be nonchalant about it.  I hate getting caught up in the drama of things, for fear of being seen as someone that is "trying to be a victim."   That is one of my biggest pet peeves.. People that try to make themselves part of a tragic event.  For what?  A good story?  Something to talk about at t cocktail party?   A badge of honor for bravery?  That's not me.

When those planes hit, I was snug in my bed.  Safe as can be.  Thankfully, so were all of my family and close friends.  A lot of Staten Islanders were deeply affected for a couple of reasons.   For one, our island is just a 25 minute boat ride from downtown Manhattan, so getting a job at the trade center is very attractive, from a commuting stand point for us.   But moreover, if you grew up on Staten Island when I did- in the 70's and 80's, there is a VERY very good chance that your dad is either a fireman, a cop, or a sanitation worker.  That's just the way it was- at least where I grew up on the south shore.   So when shit started going down, it was our own that were the responders.

I was still living at home when it happened.  After my Dad saw the news of the first plane hitting, he woke me up right away to ask me if I had any friends that worked at the Trade Center, and gave me a quick description of what he saw on the news.  I jumped up, "Yeah, I know a bunch of people that work there,... oh my God, Mary Jane works there (my Dad's first cousin).  I ran downstairs and we watched together as the second plane hit and the world started changing before our eyes. 

We watched as so many fire trucks rushed to the scene.  No one knew what was happening.  The news was just a jumble of chaos as everyone was just trying to stay on top of what was happening, which was impossible, because every time we got a grasp of "now", something more terrible happened!

My Dad and I sat stunned in front of the tv watching it all unfold.. our windows wide open with the blinds all the way up because it happened to be such a picture perfect crisp September morning.   The newscopters kept showing footage of more and more and more firetrucks arriving on the scene from hundreds (thousands?) feet above.   

This is where my curiosity got the better of me... and then took over and got the better of my Dad....

I said these words to my Dad, "I don't understand.. If the crash sites and fires are waaaay up there (pointing to the tv pictures of the top of the twin towers burning)  What good can the fire department do?  Their ladders can't get anywhere near it???"   He went into Dad/Fireman mode and got next to the tv.. "Ok, well, ya know how when you're in a big building, like the hotel you're working in?  If you walk through the stairwells, you see these big red pipes.. Those are the water pipes.  So, what the firemen are doing right now, is working their way up the stairs, and when they get to the 'fire floors'................."

this was where he was going to say that they would hook up their hoses and start to try to get the fire under control....

but instead, the tower crumbled.  with my dads forefinger fixed on our tv screen explaining how the heroes were going to save the day. Instead,  his heart and the towers crumbeled.  .....

and that was that.

he knew. and i knew what that meant.  we watched on tv as sooo many fire companies responded to that "fire". neither one of us could have guessed how many hundreds of men would have been lost in that moment.

At that moment, my dad went to the kitchen and filled up a couple of bottles with water. he went to the basement, picked up his helmet, jacket and gear... and he went back to work. for his brothers. and for his country.
My Dad, My Hero, forever.