REMEMBERING SEPTEMBER 10TH, 2001

“Where were you on September 11th, 2001?”

It’s a question I have heard asked countless times over the last two plus decades. Everyone recalls where they were on that fateful day when they heard the news about the terrorist attacks in NYC, Shanksville, PA and the Pentagon. I’m no different, and I wrote about my story in my book: Where Was God? An NYPD first responder’s search for answers following the terror attack of September 11th 2001.

But for many of us, the memories of 9/11 don’t begin on that day. There is an emotional lead up that culminates in 9/10; the last day before our world was forever and irrevocably changed. I’m sure if I had the chance to speak with a veteran who was at Pearl Harbor on December 6th, 1941, they would share the same story. Remembering the last time that things were ever ‘normal.’

I remember September 10th.

I spent the evening watching Monday Night Football, sitting in bed feeling frustrated, because I had to get up early the next morning to cover the NYC primary election. I was glued to the game, watching my beloved NY Giants eventually lose to the Denver Broncos.  

That’s my last memory of normal.

At that time I had been a cop for over 15 years. I thought I had seen just about everything, but a few hours after waking up, I would learn just how wrong I was.

For the 23 members of the service we lost on 9/11, they never enjoyed another normal day. Twenty-Two years later, many of us have been forced to embrace a new normal, as we struggle with health issues due to exposure of toxins at Ground Zero. The scourge of cancer almost loses its sting when you realize that it is most likely not a question of if, but when.

You reflect a lot on the fact that 9/11 wasn’t a singular terrorist attack, but a generational one that continues to claim lives two decades later. It’s difficult to embrace normal when you get constant notifications alerting you that we’ve lost another first responder to a 9/11 illness.   

Tomorrow politicians and pundits will dust off the tired old mantra: Never Forget, but the reality is we are forgotten; only remembered one day a year and then put back into the closest until the next anniversary. The majority of them have never had to struggle with having a normal day. The constant political fight to fund the 9/11 Health Program proves just how quickly they forget and move on.

Today I reflect on what life was like before that day and tomorrow I will mourn those we lost; killed in the initial attack or its lingering aftermath. Tomorrow will be about ‘remembering the heroes,’ but knowing that the door will close again on September 12th for another year.

WTC Cross Photo courtesy of Anne Bybee-Williams © 2001

September 11th – Never Forget

It’s funny to me that each September you begin hearing the words ‘Never Forget’ being repeated.

I don’t say this dismissively, and I am truly grateful to all those who remember the bravery and faithfulness of our fallen, but as I look around at what is going on in this country I cannot help but feel these words are becoming hollow platitudes.

Just recently, the 9/11 community was in an all-out political battle to fight for funding to treat many of us who are sick as a result of the toxins we ingested back then. September 12th, 2002, united this country and gave rise to the words ‘Never Forget.’ Yet the same politicians who draped themselves in the flag and chastised us to not forget were the very same ones who pushed back on the promise this country made to us.

I look around and I am deeply troubled, as I see this new generation, many whom were not even alive when the terror attack occurred, desecrating memorials to our fallen heroes and victims, because they go against their current world view. Those people who have never put themselves in harm’s way for another human being, mocking those that gave the last full measure.

 The words ‘Never Forget’ mean something different to a select few. While the world proclaims that we should Never Forget, some understand that for them it is ‘Can’t Forget.’

Can’t Forget means that you can never look at a clear blue sky and find comfort.

Can’t Forget means that the sound of a low flying plane sends a wave of panic through you.

Can’t Forget means that in the shadow of a global pandemic a mask brings no comfort, only bad memories.

Can’t Forget means that the sight of flames and the scent of acrid smoke forever rekindles a hell that no one should ever know.

Can’t Forget means that to those who wear this, you are bound to a brother & sisterhood that is sacred, not for what we did, but for what they gave:  Fidelis Ad Mortem

NYPD World Trade Center Medal

Can’t Forget means that, by the grace of God, you survived, but the names and faces of those we lost are forever etched into our hearts and minds.

“From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.” - William Shakespeare’s Henry V

Remembering Jax: You Gotta Bee-lieve

Those of you who follow me know that our beloved Irish Wolfhound, Jax, died unexpectedly Friday morning. We knew our time with him was short, as he had the onset of congestive heart failure, but was being treated with meds and receiving regular care by our amazing local vet and the cardiac vets at the University of Illinois – Urbana. Unbeknownst to any of us he had stomach issues that went undiagnosed until it was too late.

No matter how big he got, he was always our puppy….

This is a long post and has taken me a week to write. I had to stop frequently, because these damn eyes wouldn’t let me see the keyboard, but I needed to memorialize this, for both him and I. As a writer, you would think that the words would have come easily, but they didn’t. How do you describe the pain of losing someone who was an integral part of your life?

Jax was the first dog I had as a puppy. We got him when he was only a few weeks old. Ironically, he was not even the dog we went to look at. We went to see his sister, Big Brownie, but she didn’t want anything to do with us, and then there was this little runt, Blackie, who wouldn’t leave us alone. He crawled all over us and played with the kids. It was as if he was crying out, ‘take me, take me.’ What can I say, we left with him and thus began Jax’s new life with us.

Nothing prepares you for life with a big dog and Irish Wolfhounds hold the number one spot as the world’s tallest breed. It’s like getting pregnant and finding out you’re having quintuplets. He looked like a puppy, okay a gangly goofy puppy, but that didn’t last long. People thought we were joking when we said we’d put him in the crate at night and he’d come out bigger. Folks, it was no joke!!

What were we feeding him ?

At times it was hard to remember he was just a puppy, because he soon dwarfed every other dog. But he was goofy and loveable and had the warmest brown eyes you’d ever seen. And he loved our cats and, weirder still, they loved him. During the winter months it was not uncommon to see them sharing his bed in the living room, next to the fireplace, and in the summer laying on the deck together.

You know you are loved, when the cats adopt you into their inner circle !!

Nancy used to complain that we didn’t run him enough, and I used to ignore it because hey, I don’t like running when I have to, which is never. In retrospect, I missed out. I should have. There was a time, when we would go for walks along our road, which is a mile long. One day I thought, well hell, I’ll give him a run like she wants. Yep, awesome idea….. For like 1.4 seconds. You see, Jax at full run had a leg span of over 6’ feet. In retrospect, it makes sense. They are not called wolfhounds because of appearance, but rather because they were trained to kill wolves. The breed did such a good job in Ireland that they eradicated wolves in the 18th century. Needless to say, my days of trying to run with Jax crashed and burned rather quickly.

One of the other bright ideas I had was to fence in our backyard, so he could have a large play area. We have a fairly large amount of trees, so I went to the home improvement store and got 5’ high snow fencing. I ran it around the trees and sectioned off what I thought was a decent area for him to roam and play in. Remember those legs? Yep, leaped it like a gazelle.

Ironically, as big as he was, he never knocked anything over, which is quite impressive for a dog that was nearly as long as our kitchen table and who’s face cleared the kitchen island with room to spare. In fact, one of his favorite things to do, while I was sitting at the island, was to stick his head underneath my arm and poke his nose through to see what was going on. He’d also leave the cutest little whisker tracks on the counter-top.

Another thing he loved to do was to spin around, 360 degrees, like a bucking bronco. It always amazed Nancy who couldn’t believe that, despite his size, he maintained such a tight circle.

And Jax loved the ladies. Anyone who came to our home would tell you, once they got over the initial fright of seeing this massive dog and hearing his window rattling bark, was that he would love to rest his face on the center of their chest and get love. No, I didn’t teach him that and apparently Jax was not keen on obeying any social distancing constructs.

One funny story was that Nancy had once been heavily into horse riding / instructing and had an old whip. One day, when Jax wasn’t listening, as he was prone to do, she said, ‘I’m going to get the whip,’ and she did. It has a rigid leather shaft of about five feet and then about four feet of braided leather that dangled. She got that whip and you would have thought she rained down fire. Now, we had no idea why just the mere sight of the whip commanded his instant attention, but it did and it shocked us. I mean we had him since a puppy, so he had never been mistreated, so it just kind of stumped us. But that whip was his kryptonite. If we had company come over and didn’t want him to get in everyone’s face while we were sitting down, we would just rest the whip in the door frame and problem solved. Looking back it was comical to think this dangly little whip kept him out of a room, but he would not cross it; this massive dog, thwarted by thin braided leather.

When we were refurnishing our home a few years back, we got a lovely chair to go in our living room which matched the décor. It was not a cheap chair and that was when we learned Jax also had good taste. One of his favorite things to do was go sit down and look out the window toward the pond. I always wondered what he was thinking. At times he would get a little too comfy and nod off.

Life comes at you fast……….

When you have a dog that big, you learn quickly that ads for dog treats, toys, and beds have a different meaning when it comes to an Irish Wolfhound. I mean, how many other dogs do you know that have their own single mattress? Yet, he always loved curling up on his memory foam bed in the middle.

Doesn’t everyone have a bed ?

And if he wasn’t sitting in his chair, or lying in bed, he’d curl up on the couch to watch me play video games. Apparently it was Jax’s world, we just lived in it.

Couch Comfort Level: Jax tested & approved

Our years with Jax were never boring. No matter where he went, he was the center of attention. Everyone was drawn to him by his size and gentle demeanor and he loved the attention. Friend or stranger, everyone wanted a picture with Jax and he aimed to please.

Jax loved my friend & fellow author, Larry Wilson

Even when he would go to the vet’s office there was never an issue. Jax never needed to be handled; he would simply just stand there majestically and let them do whatever needed to be done. I don’t think I could adequately describe the level of trust he had.

Irish Wolfhounds only have a lifespan of about 6-8 years, so we knew as the years passed what we were going to eventually face. As my puppy’s muzzle began to gray, he became my ‘old man.’ We did all we could to help him, including joint supplements and medications. A few years back he had a minor surgery to biopsy what turned out to be fatty tumors, but he didn’t bounce back easily from the anesthesia. That was something that weighed heavily on our minds going forward.

Last November, our son was walking the dogs, when Jax went down. I’ll never forget the panic as he ran up the backstairs to tell us.  I raced across the frozen ground to get to him. At the time we thought it was just exertion and cold. The vet told us to just monitor him, but he was fine. In February, we were outside and he came running up the hill and I saw it happen. He went down right in front of me. I laid on the ground holding him and Nancy got a blanket to keep him warm. At that moment I thought it was seizures. We got him into the vet and he said his heart wasn’t beating right. After a few phone calls, we were referred to the veterinary teaching hospital at U of I, where they had cardiac specialists. It was then that we learned the horrible news that he had dilated cardiomyopathy, or an enlarged heart, which the breed is known for. The doctors were amazed by his overall health and said with prescriptions and special food we could prolong his life, but they couldn’t say how long. We decided to do everything we could to give him the best chance possible.

And he was doing fine.

Thursday, May 21st, was like any other day. He spent a large part of the day just sitting outside while we were working in the garden. And for dinner he was thrilled when Nancy added some stew meat and carrots to his dinner bowl. Afterwards, we went out for a walk and then stood on the deck. A bumble bee came around and he leaped up to get it. Jax loved to chase after bumblebees. He never caught one (thank God), but he loved the chase. We quickly ushered them in and settled in for the night.

Just after midnight he was whining, and Nancy took him out. They had him on diuretics, so this was fairly common. Then around 1 am, he came over and rested his head on her and she took him out again. After she brought him in, she stayed up. Around 2 am, I heard him gagging and jumped out of bed. It sounded like he was trying to throw up. I got him out the back door, but he was just pacing and gagging. I quickly got dressed and called Nancy who was having coffee. He went down the back stairs and was wandering around. I knew something was seriously wrong. We were trying to get him back to the house when he collapsed. We stayed with him outside until he was able to get back up and we brought him in the house. Nancy began checking symptoms and called the emergency animal hospital in Springfield.

One of Jax’s favorite things to do was to go for car rides. Not exactly an easy thing to do with a dog his size, but fortunately we have a Suburban that accommodates him.

When your vehicle choices factor in all the members of the your family.

I’d open the back and he’d jump right inside, but not this night. I reached down and gently gathered him up in my arms and lifted him into the back. Twenty minutes later we were at the hospital. Once again Jax walked in with the tech, I guess he always knew they were only trying to help. Because of the damn virus, we couldn’t go back with him. I’ll never forget watching him walk into the hospital.

We got a call from the doctor who said he had a twisted stomach and would need surgery. We told her to go ahead and do whatever needed to be done. She said we could go home and pick him up at 7:30 and bring him to our vet for aftercare. We no sooner walked in the door, when we got the call. The damage was too far gone. They wanted to know whether they should sew him up and bring him out of the anesthesia, so that we could come back up and say goodbye, but we couldn’t do that, not to him. Nothing was going to change the outcome, and it was more important for us to let him go peacefully.

Jax had beaten the odds for his bread and passed away on May 22nd, 2020 at the ripe old age of 9 years.

Nothing beats the outdoors !!

There are no words to describe the feelings I have struggled with for the past several days, but suffice to say that my heart is broken. Going to bed at night and not having him come over to have his head rubbed, and then not having him laying in his bed when I wake up, is a constant reminder of the void in our home. There are no rooms in our home without memories of Jax, and this home only feels lonely without him here. His collar hanging on the hall tree, his empty bed at the base of ours, his toys in the basket, the prescription dog food in the closet, the errant clumps of wayward hair that never go away no matter how often you vacuum, the bed I had for him in my office; all constant reminders of our loss.

Can I sleep in your office, Dad ?

Friday we sat here numb, struggling with the fact that he would not be coming home. With tears in my eyes, I asked God for a sign, just to let me know that he was okay. As Nancy and I sat on the back deck, a bumblebee appeared. And for the next half hour that bumblebee hovered over each one of us. There are no flowers out there to attract them and yet this bumblebee came down and moved back and forth between me and Nancy for over a half hour. It’s been a week now, and every time we go out back, the bumblebee reappears and stays by us. At times I have held out my hand and it has flown over to me, hovering near my fingers. We’ve taken to calling him BumbleJax. I’m not sure of your belief system, but for me it was God’s way of letting me know my boy was fine.

In closing, I am reminded of the way Jax would rest his face on my chest and stare up at me with those big brown eyes. In those eyes was an unconditional love that speaks to just how one-sided the human / canine construct is. Our dogs never judge us, they never frown on our shortcomings, and they never not have time for us.  They just want to be with us and that is not asking for much. What I wouldn’t give to be able to lay down next to him on the floor and just tell him I love him one more time, but those opportunities are gone forever. Don’t let a day go by without letting your furry buddy know just how much you care. To that end, let us all strive to be the type of person our dogs thinks we are.

Rest easy, Jax. You are forever loved and will forever be missed. You weren’t just a good boy, Jax, you were the Best Boy!!

A memorial gift from one of Jax’s best friends, Liam. If only love could have saved him,……….

Remembering the September 11th, 2001 Terror Attacks – 18 Years Later

It’s 8:45 EST, a minute before my life changed 18 years ago.

I want to stop the clock, but I can’t. Just like my life, it will change and I will have to face the memories again.

18 years ago it was just another September 11th, now it is a day that is etched into my brain until I draw my last breath.

My wife reminded me last night that on September 10th we had been watching Monday Night Football. My (formerly beloved) Giant’s lost to the Denver Broncos. We’d stayed up late to watch, even though I had election duty the next day. What should have been a day spent bitching about my team, would soon turn into a nightmare that I am forever trapped in.

I often wonder if people look at us and think, ‘why can’t they just move on?’

The simple answer is that we live with the aftermath of September 11th every day.

That morning, we lost 23 members of the NYPD, but since then we have lost over 240 and the reality for us is that this number will only grow. Most cannot fathom what we were exposed to, as the videos do not do it justice. For those of us who were there, we know what was in the air and what we were exposed to. I have never understood why the government lied, when they said, ‘the air is safe.’ Walking into Ground Zero we all knew that it wasn’t and it didn’t stop us from doing our job.

The other reason is that we do not have any closure.

On the morning of December 7th, 1941, America was attacked at Pearl Harbor. There were over two thousand deaths and over one thousand wounded. It was the worst attack America had ever faced from an enemy. On August 15th, 1945, less than 5 years after the attack, Japan surrendered. While it didn’t bring back those we lost, there was some measure of closure. We’d been attacked and we brought our enemy to their knees.

18 years later and we are still fighting this war and there is no end in sight.

Last night, minutes into the anniversary of the September 11th attacks, our embassy in Kabul, Afghanistan was attacked; a stark reminder that our enemy has not surrendered and is alive and well.

On the morning of September 11th, we lost almost three thousand people, in the 18 years that have passed, we have lost nearly the same amount to the toxins they ingested either fleeing from or responding to the attack. Yet, when I have had occasion to speak on this topic, most have no idea.

They have no idea because there is little coverage of those numbers. It is America’s dirty little secret. They don’t know the staggering amount of people that continue to die, almost every day, nor the fact that, for many families of the original victims, there is no closure because, 18 years later, their loved ones have still not been identified.

Many, like me, feel as if we have been relegated to history and the recent fight to renew the VCF is a poignant reminder.

• Rather than do what they promised to do, which was Never Forget, the 9/11 victims had to plead, threaten, and embarrass many in Congress to renew the funding; the very same politicians who get in front of any camera they can, on the anniversary of the attack, to pontificate to the rest of us about, ‘not forgetting.’

• Rather than point a finger at our enemy, and call them out for the cowards they are, we look away, afraid to offend anyone. Even today, the NY Times posted an article about how, ‘planes took aim and brought down the World Trade Center.’ Unless we have sentient airliners, I’m pretty sure there were Islamic terrorists who aimed them at their targets.

• Rather than stand tall and call it what it was, a terror attack, many in politics and the media have chosen to white wash it. Or, as one Congressperson insensitively put it, “Some people did something.”

18 years ago today, I stood next to my old partner, NYPD Lieutenant Paul Murphy, as we helped rescue and evacuate people from Ground Zero. On January 4th, 2018, Paul died from the 9/11 illnesses he had battled. Paul was a great cop, a loving husband & father, and a dear friend. I remember when I called him to tell him I had been diagnosed with 9/11 cancer. Even though he was fighting his own battle, he immediately counseled me on what I needed to do to get taken care of. I lost him only days later.

Paul, and all of my brothers and sisters who have fought and lost their battles, are my heroes. They exemplify the NYPD Motto: Fidelis Ad Mortem.

Today I remember them and all they sacrificed that fateful day. I just wish we could set our clocks back to September 12th and live our lives with that same level of commitment, respect, and appreciation.

Never Forget - “All Gave Some, Some Gave All.”

Please remember to sign-up for my FREE monthly Newsletter to stay up to date on the latest information.

Throwback Thursday - Behind the Scenes (NYPD ESU)

Readers of my books know that I reference a lot of different places and agencies. So today I am continuing the theme of Throwback Thursday, the 2nd in the on-going series, by introducing you to what I consider the preeminent unit within the NYPD; the Emergency Service Unit. In my second book, Queen’s Gambit, ESU plays a pivotal role in the hunt for terrorists threatening NYC.

The saying goes in New York City: ‘When a civilian needs help they call 911, but when a cop needs help they call ESU.’

 In 1964, the Philadelphia Police Department established what became known as the first official Special Weapons and Tactics (SWAT) team in the United States. Three years later, the Los Angeles Police Department launched their SWAT team. These were the first units dedicated to specifically addressing escalating violence in urban areas. Without taking anything away from these two premier agencies, in my opinion they were about four decades late to the party.

In 2015, after five years of research, I wrote: Uncommon Valor, a history of the insignia of ESU. It was my goal to record not only the insignia of this acclaimed unit, but also the rich history. I was deeply honored when Police Commissioner William Bratton called me to say that he was having this book included at the NYPD Police Academy library.

The origins of the modern ESU date back to 1925, when NYPD Police Commissioner Richard Enright, created the Police Emergency Automobile Squad. This unit arose out of the need to address changes in the growing urban landscape in New York City.  A steadily growing population, coupled with increases in urban construction and a diversifying system of transportation, began to present new issues that the regular patrol officers simply could not begin to handle effectively. Officers were now being forced to contend with a myriad of issues, such as gas leaks, pedestrians being run over by vehicles or falling from elevated train lines, and horses that would fall into open construction sites. It soon became obvious that there was a need to have a specialized unit, which would be available to respond to the new type of emergency situations that New York City was beginning to face. 

On November 3rd, 1926, the officers of Emergency Service engaged in their first major gun battle when NYC mobster, Herman ‘Hyman’ Amberg, who was in jail for the murder of a local jeweler, attempted to escape from the old ‘Tombs’ jail on Centre Street, along with two other prisoners. Pistols had been previously smuggled into the jail for the three men. They faked illnesses so that they would be brought to the jail doctor. Once inside the doctor's office, they pulled their guns and attempted to escape. Newly assigned Warden, Peter Mallon, heard the commotion and came running to stop the escape. He was shot and killed as he entered the office. The three inmates then fled into the prison courtyard, near the Lafayette Street gate, where they exchanged shots with Keeper (the former title for Corrections Officer) Jeremiah Murphy and his partner, Daniel O’Connor. Keeper Murphy was killed and his partner was wounded.

Emergency Service responded and engaged the inmates from nearby buildings, raking the jail from all sides with heavy machine gun fire and gas bombs.  The gun battle at the Tombs went on for thirty minutes, with hundreds of rounds being fired. Amberg and the other two inmates hunkered down behind a pile of coal in the yard, before making their way to the safety of a guardhouse. They occasionally returned fire, wounding a police officer and a businessman in the Conklin Building across the street. At some point, two of the inmates were shot and wounded. With no escape possible, all three committed suicide. 

Over the decades, the role of the Emergency Service Unit has continually evolved. While they still respond to all major disasters, they have become the tip of the spear in the response to terrorism. On September 11th, 2001, of the twenty-three members of the NYPD killed on that day, fourteen were members of ESU. Sadly, in the years since, a number of members have succumbed to 9/11 related illnesses from the toxins they ingested during the rescue & recovery efforts.

In addition to its traditional role, ESU also provides Counter Assault (CAT) / Counter Sniper (CS) Team’s for major events and dignitary protection details. Like the NYPD’s Intelligence Division, ESU works hand in hand with their counterparts in the United States Secret Service and is part of the protection details for presidential motorcades and venues.

The motto of the NYPD ESU has always been: ‘Anytime, Anywhere, Any Place’.

If you have ever watched a newscast, concerning any major event in NYC, it is almost certain that you will see the familiar vehicles of the ESU. Contained within these trucks is a variety of equipment to handle any type of incident. When confronted with a situation they have never encountered before, they will find a way to perform the impossible.

The men & women of ESU are the epitome of the title: NY’s Finest.

Please remember to sign-up for my FREE monthly Newsletter to stay up to date on the latest information.

Photo courtesy of Tom O’Connor (NYPD ESU - Retired)