Never forget 9/11
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HT413
Semi Pro Bowler
I hesitated to share this, but here's my story.
I started that day by watching the morning news at my mom's house drinking a cup of coffee. I was getting set to start my first day of grad school after having just quit my job (and my career). For years I was sure I wasted years of college and work on a dead end career, but 9-11 may have proved me wrong.
We saw the 1st plane hit and wondered aloud if it was an accident. The second plane answered our question. Well, I knew I had no skills the Red Cross could use, so I drove straight down to the Salvation Army to volunteer. I signed up, earned as set of credentials and I drove straight to the Meadow Lands (old Giant Stadium) where I cut through lines of police, hopped in a grease truck and spent the next few days feeding the cops, EMT's and fire fighters that had come across the country to help. I fed men and women from Indiana, Texas, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Kentucky, Tennessee, you name it, they were there.
Now, I've never been to war, but the scene must have been similar to a base during deployment. There were THOUSANDS of Fire trucks, heavy rescue vehicles, mobile command centers, ambulances, police vehicles. But it wasnt the equipment that filled the entire parking lot as if it were football Sunday, it was the ten men and women to each piece of equipment that did that job. The reason I refer to war to describe the scene is this - the whole place was abuzz with energy, chatter, hope, dread. Yet with all the activity, somehow everyone was waiting for something; like the entire crew (army?) of rescuers was holding its breath. Every so often crews would come back from ground zero filthy and tired (and hungry!!), and another crew (maybe one i just fed?) would move out to relieve them.
I worked that site for a few shifts in a row, working on nothing but caffeine and pride and sadly remember the very moment that America realized that this was no longer a rescue mission, but a recovery mission. I didn't hear it over the radio, it was the men and women that returned from duty that told us.
Well, I worked that grease truck for a day or two when the main crew (I was just a temp) and I were relocated to Liberty State Park, in the shadow of Lady Liberty herself. The rest of the crew was about to be deployed to Ground Zero but my 'tour' was coming to an end as I was about to lose credit for the semester if I didn't attend soon. Yet I'll never forget this one thing - as I looked across the Hudson at the thick white/grey smoke, I realized it wasn't smoke at all. It didn't flow like smoke, it was somehow too heavy.
It was dust! Concrete dust! See, as it turns out, the career I just wasted 7 years on had me working in a lab studying silica based adhesives (a terrible career path, as it turns out) and I knew silica dust causes silicosis, which is a debilitating disease that can lead to lung cancer in much the same fashion as asbestosis. And I warned them all. Oh I did more than that, I told everyone that would listen, cops, EMT's, firefighters, FBI agents (at least that's what I think they were, they never really said), SWAT and my crew. I made them all swear they'd use the best masks they could afford before they went in And they did swear.
This was YEARS before anyone admitted what that dust was made of and what it caused in those brave men and women. And that, I think, is why God had me watching the news that day, and maybe even put me on this earth. I am certain that members of that crew had a bigger purpose to fulfill, if not then, perhaps sometime in their future.
I started that day by watching the morning news at my mom's house drinking a cup of coffee. I was getting set to start my first day of grad school after having just quit my job (and my career). For years I was sure I wasted years of college and work on a dead end career, but 9-11 may have proved me wrong.
We saw the 1st plane hit and wondered aloud if it was an accident. The second plane answered our question. Well, I knew I had no skills the Red Cross could use, so I drove straight down to the Salvation Army to volunteer. I signed up, earned as set of credentials and I drove straight to the Meadow Lands (old Giant Stadium) where I cut through lines of police, hopped in a grease truck and spent the next few days feeding the cops, EMT's and fire fighters that had come across the country to help. I fed men and women from Indiana, Texas, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Kentucky, Tennessee, you name it, they were there.
Now, I've never been to war, but the scene must have been similar to a base during deployment. There were THOUSANDS of Fire trucks, heavy rescue vehicles, mobile command centers, ambulances, police vehicles. But it wasnt the equipment that filled the entire parking lot as if it were football Sunday, it was the ten men and women to each piece of equipment that did that job. The reason I refer to war to describe the scene is this - the whole place was abuzz with energy, chatter, hope, dread. Yet with all the activity, somehow everyone was waiting for something; like the entire crew (army?) of rescuers was holding its breath. Every so often crews would come back from ground zero filthy and tired (and hungry!!), and another crew (maybe one i just fed?) would move out to relieve them.
I worked that site for a few shifts in a row, working on nothing but caffeine and pride and sadly remember the very moment that America realized that this was no longer a rescue mission, but a recovery mission. I didn't hear it over the radio, it was the men and women that returned from duty that told us.
Well, I worked that grease truck for a day or two when the main crew (I was just a temp) and I were relocated to Liberty State Park, in the shadow of Lady Liberty herself. The rest of the crew was about to be deployed to Ground Zero but my 'tour' was coming to an end as I was about to lose credit for the semester if I didn't attend soon. Yet I'll never forget this one thing - as I looked across the Hudson at the thick white/grey smoke, I realized it wasn't smoke at all. It didn't flow like smoke, it was somehow too heavy.
It was dust! Concrete dust! See, as it turns out, the career I just wasted 7 years on had me working in a lab studying silica based adhesives (a terrible career path, as it turns out) and I knew silica dust causes silicosis, which is a debilitating disease that can lead to lung cancer in much the same fashion as asbestosis. And I warned them all. Oh I did more than that, I told everyone that would listen, cops, EMT's, firefighters, FBI agents (at least that's what I think they were, they never really said), SWAT and my crew. I made them all swear they'd use the best masks they could afford before they went in And they did swear.
This was YEARS before anyone admitted what that dust was made of and what it caused in those brave men and women. And that, I think, is why God had me watching the news that day, and maybe even put me on this earth. I am certain that members of that crew had a bigger purpose to fulfill, if not then, perhaps sometime in their future.
To all that have contributed something: be it big or small - THANK YOU.
My coworker lost both his sister and his cousin; they worked in one of the towers. To this day, they have never found any proof of their death. Nothing to help create closure.
Every year he and his family take the day off to go to ground zero and participate in the ceremonies. It has to be like ripping the scab off of a wound and having it bleed again. My heart breaks for him, for all that suffered, and all the families that lost loved ones...
My coworker lost both his sister and his cousin; they worked in one of the towers. To this day, they have never found any proof of their death. Nothing to help create closure.
Every year he and his family take the day off to go to ground zero and participate in the ceremonies. It has to be like ripping the scab off of a wound and having it bleed again. My heart breaks for him, for all that suffered, and all the families that lost loved ones...
NJRR
Well-Known Member
HT413- Your story reminded me of something I forgot. The day after, one of my customers, a painting contractor, came into my paint store and asked if we had any respirators. I gave him the few I had in stock plus whatever work gloves I had.. He was collecting them and bringing them down to ground zero for the volunteers. The authorities weren't able to organize basic safety equipment fast enough for all the volunteers that showed up.
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