When Worlds Collide

I put this together years ago when my dad retired from the fire department. Him and I talked for endless hours about what he wanted to do next and for some reason we stayed on this topic for so long

“Time is passing. Yet, for the United States of America, there will be no forgetting September the 11th. We will remember every rescuer who died in honor. We will remember every family that lives in grief. We will remember the fire and ash, the last phone calls, the funerals of the children. “
- President George W. Bush, November 11, 2001

He lit another cigarette, the last one in his pack. He’d been smoking all day since I asked him to do this. We sat in my dad’s smoking room in silence, him thinking about what to say next, and me trying to fight my way through the headache that was clouding my senses. At fifty-five my dad has done and seen more than most people will ever, his famous saying, “I’ve held more jobs in a week than you’ll have in a life time.” But sitting on the floor, seeing him in this weakened state was something new for me. His chair kept creaking as he shifted his weight so he could better position himself to look at me. I sat on the safe in which he keeps our families most important documents and backup resources in case anything happens to him or my mom. From here I learned about one of the most influential weeks of my dad’s life. 

My dad spent thirty-two years working for the Buffalo fire department, twelve of those years he spent as the head of the mask room at Fire fighter headquarters in downtown Buffalo. He was solely responsible for all the breathing harnesses that each fire fighter used as well as fit testing them to ensure they were healthy enough to be in active duty. As most there will tell you though, he did much more than that. He saved the city of Buffalo over seven hundred fifty thousand dollars by renegotiating contracts for equipment the city was using, he designed the city’s new air truck that is now a mobile command center at big fires. This man who was unshakable in most situations was not prepared for what was about to happen to him and our country. All this information is to tell one story that changed the course of my dad’s job and life. 

At 2:15pm on September 11, 2001 my dad was sitting in a room filled with some of Buffalo’s most powerful people. The head of the FBI, Sheriff’s Department, State Troopers, and many other agencies sat in the conference room in city hall. There was only one clear purpose for this meeting, was Buffalo susceptible to attack, and how could it be stopped? The phrase “political shitstorm” was understatement for what was going here. My dad was called to the meeting for the purpose of being sent to New York City as support in their fire departments mask services. “The biggest bullshitters all here together in one room looking for a way to make themselves look better, honestly f**k em all.” But in the next breath looking at the floor he said, “no amount of training prepared me for this, and being honest I was scared.” There was no one else who had the training, knowledge, or experience that my dad had to handle this situation. As the meeting ended my dad was ordered home to get some rest and prepare for the work ahead. 

Dad called us into his room; he picked my sister up and looked at my mom and I. “They want me in New York City. Only Buffalo has enough s**t to deal with this disaster and even it might not be enough.” My mother started crying and I as usual was left in charge. He took me into my blue batman bedroom and put me on my bed, “I need you to look after your mother and sister, behave yourself and be good.” According to him I used a line from Die Hard and told him to give em hell. 

 The next morning my dad headed downtown, but contrary to our belief, he never left Buffalo. “Jack came running into the mask room, he was all scattered brained but knew enough to tell me to get to work. In less than ten minutes I had over two hundred units all over my room from New York and any available equipment that wasn’t being used in active service was taken and shipped there.” For the next  seventy-two hours straight, my dad would be fixing, testing, and shipping breathing units to and from the City by himself. “Jack came in with a six pack and some Chinese food, he told me that New York was in shambles. Tears flowed down his face as he tried to tell me what it looked like. I sat there thanking God that my black a*s wasn’t down there.” As pictures rolled across his desktop trying to convey a clear understanding of what was going on there. He need his brothers and sisters in arms were risking their lives in order to protect and serve, “it made me want to do more.” From doing laundry, to helping fix rigs in the service shop, he was doing it all. 

It had been twelve years since he had put on a fire suit. Twelve years since he climbed up onto a rig and held on for dear life while it shot around a corner doing fifty plus miles per hour. A simple shop fire at Military Rd. and Hertal Ave. turned really ugly when the laundry mat next door caught fire too. He was the most senior fire fighter in both experience and age on the call so he was the one making the calls. That was until he found out that the house behind the laundry mat caught fire as well. “There’s nothing in this world that can prepare you for a burned baby’s body. The mother still wouldn’t let the body go.” He said that nothing could empty his stomach faster, reason number one for staying behind his door in the mask room.   

One of the darkest days in our nation’s history brought us closer than we could’ve imagined. My dad did a lot that week he thought he’d never had to deal with again. I learned that there’s a reason for his tough exterior and for why he was in such a rush to retire and be done with that city of Buffalo. “The worst part is that we saw it coming, and did nothing about it. What does that really say about us?”