Ruffled Feathers Parrot Sanctuary Inc.
Where Hope Takes Flight
Twenty five years after September 11th, 2001. A firefighter’s journey from Ground Zero to a sanctuary full of feathers, and the one thing I hope you take away from it.
I have told my story before, but as time passes it gets a little easier for me. So last year I promised that I would take the time to write a proper story of my experiences after the morning of September 11th, 2001, and share them with the world. I actually started writing this long before September came around this year, because as it approaches my mind will not stop thinking about that day. So here goes. I hope I can get it all out, and I hope each person who takes the time to learn about me enjoys this and takes away from it what is most important to me.
The month I brace for every year
As September approaches I start to get a little antsy every year. All right, I like to tell the truth, so I will say it is more like a full blown panic attack, throw in some terrible nightmares, lots of crying, shaking at the mere sight of the event, and then toss in some PTSD for good measure, and you basically have my September 11th experience these days. Really it is the whole month of September, because I have to cut myself off from all technology in order to avoid seeing or hearing about that tragic day. My friends and family understand, but for those who do not know me that well, it is something I have to do in order to keep it together.
The morning everything changed
My story starts not that much different than a lot of people’s that fateful morning. My phone rang and I woke to my mom’s voice telling me to get up and turn on the TV. I knew right then it had to be something big, because that is not a normal phone call for us. I did what she said, and what I saw changed my life forever. I hope it changed us all forever.
I watched in horror as the first plane crashed into one of the World Trade Center towers, struggling the whole time to find the volume button and turn on the sound. Once I got it working I realized the crash had happened a couple of minutes ago, and the video of the tower on fire was the live shot. Now, I like to tell people I am not scared of anything, and judging by some of the stupid things I have done a lot of people might say that is true, but it really is not. I was scared in that moment. I did not know if this was a tragic accident, or if, as the news was already speculating, we were under attack. I really did not know what to do.
So I got out of bed and did what I always did on every tragic fire run. I prayed. I did not always drop to one knee. Usually I just bowed my head on the way to a scene, or said a silent prayer for whoever needed help in that moment. I was always afraid of ridicule or discrimination for showing my beliefs, because people have always found it easy to make fun of Christians. But that morning I got out of bed, dropped to one knee, and I prayed my heart out. I prayed for what I was sure were tens of thousands of people in trouble. I prayed for the FDNY, for the whole city of New York, and you can bet I prayed for my country that I love so much.
Most importantly, though, I prayed for guidance. I asked God to point me in the right direction. I do not care whether you are a believer or not, that is for you to work out for yourself, but God answered my prayer for guidance that day, and I never realized it until right now, as I write this down. Sometimes miracles take a while to notice, I think, and this one just brought me to tears, so I am taking a break.
Watching it unfold
Okay, back to my story. Like I was saying, I had no idea what was in store for me, or what the future was going to bring, as I watched the tragedy unfold on my television screen like so many of us did that morning. I watched on my old tube TV, because this was so long ago that there were no HD TVs yet, and some details were really hard to make out. For instance, I could not tell if it was debris falling or if people were actually jumping to escape the inferno.
My brother lived next door to me at the time, and he always had a better TV, so I called him up to ask if I could come over and watch on a better screen. In all honesty, I really just did not want to be alone. We sat at his house and watched it unfold together. By the time the second plane struck, we all knew that what we were watching was no accident. We sat there mesmerized, for how long I have no idea, but seeing the Pentagon get hit and the first tower start to fall, I knew our whole country was in serious trouble. None of us knew on that day how serious a threat we were facing, or how deep the attack might go. I think that is part of the reason it was so scary for us all.
The decision to go
As time passed, probably around lunchtime, my brother and I had already decided they were going to need help in New York. They had lost more FDNY firefighters than anybody knew at that time, and the ones who were left could not go on forever. It was just too big of a disaster. They were going to need help. That is when we started to come up with a plan for what we could do.
I was a firefighter at the time, so I knew I had the skills that were needed, and my brother was a veteran of the first Gulf War and a pretty big guy, so surely they could put us to work. I had just been laid off from the work I did for the 2000 census, so I had a little time on my hands. I drove to my firehouse to talk with the chief and make sure it was all right to take my gear and represent our department in New York. Everyone there was gathered around the TV, just like everywhere else, watching the day unfold. They could not believe I wanted to pay my own way and drive to New York to help, but once they heard my plan, how could they say no?
Some people forget that all flights were grounded after the attack, so the only way to get anywhere was to drive. I agreed to act as a point man for our department, because as they thought about it, others wanted to come help too, they just might have to make some arrangements first. I could get there first, get things squared away, and as people got the time and could be spared, they would join me. I packed up everything I might need, in case I had to sleep on the streets, in the back of my old red Toyota four wheel drive with a topper on the back. We had just taken that truck out west to visit my dad, and we did quite a bit of four wheeling in the desert and driving out to Area 51 and such, so we were confident it would make the trip. We got on the road around 4 p.m., and we were off, on our way to New York City.
We stopped at Dan’s pawnshop in Clarksville, Indiana, along the way, and pawned off everything of value we could spare in order to make the trip. I had been around the country a bit by this point, so we knew New York was not going to be cheap, and we were going to need every penny we could get to get by. With that, we started the roughly twelve hour drive from my hometown to New York, listening to the drama unfold the whole way on the radio, talking about what we were going to do and what we were in for.
I thought about my life a lot on that drive. All of my past, and probably my future too, crossed my mind. In all honesty it was because I was heading into a dangerous situation, and I had already resigned myself to the fact that I might not be coming back from this one. Now would probably be a good time to share some of those experiences with the rest of you, since they played a major role in how I ended up on this journey.
Where I come from
My life did not start that different than a lot of others. I grew up in a small town across the river from Louisville, Kentucky, and went to great schools. I had really great friends all through school who genuinely cared for one another, and most of whom I am still friends with to this day. My Grandma Harmon always made sure I went to church on Sundays. Whether it was hers or someone else’s she did not care, as long as I got my Sunday dose of God she was happy. I thank her for that, because I got to experience all different kinds of religions and was allowed to make my own decision about which one to follow.
I may have been a little different, because my parents owned a greenhouse business when I was growing up, and I was put to work at a very early age. People do not believe me, but I was working and paying taxes by the time I was four years old. By third grade, some of my friends got to work with me after school too. A lot of people ask me if it bothered me to miss out on my childhood. Well, I did not miss out on a darn thing. I still had plenty of time to play baseball, fish, spend time with friends, and do all the other stuff normal kids do. I just worked hard. And I can bet I did not have to work near as hard as my parents did, so why complain.
Speaking of my parents, my dad was an officer in the Air Force during the Vietnam War, and he retired after more than thirty years as a colonel and commander of a whole National Guard base. He was overseas keeping us safe when my brother was born, and he did not even get to see his first born son until he was a year old. My mother was a nurse who retired after more than thirty years working for the Veterans Administration. When I was in grade school she went back to school and got her master’s degree in counseling, a job she still loves to do today. I am so proud to have such a strong woman as a mother, and I hope she knows how much I admire her and everything she has accomplished. Well, she probably does now.
I share all this because I feel it is important to know where I came from in order to understand how I ended up in that truck driving to New York on 9/11/2001. I come from a very patriotic family, a loving family, a family that understands mistakes, but above all they taught me to love everyone and to treat each person with respect, because every life is important. All these years I never knew why I made the decision to go, until right now, as I write about it. I was taught to sacrifice anything and everything in order to help another person in need, and this day was the biggest need of all. I was going to do my part. My reason for going is as simple as that.
The Javits Center
Back to driving. Surprisingly enough, we got off the Jersey Turnpike and were almost into New York City in ten hours. I may have sped a little during the trip, but do not tell anyone. We turned the radio to a local station, and they were directing all volunteers to head to the Javits Center. I had no idea what or where that was, but now we had a plan. Luckily, GPS had been invented and I had one in my truck, although it was still fairly new and expensive back then. It guided us right to where we needed to be, and we still had the old fashioned atlas if we needed it. For those of you who do not know, that is a map.
As we approached the city, those signs that hang over the interstate, the ones that usually flash traffic warnings, simply read “all traffic avoid NYC.” Not a good sign. As we drew closer to crossing a bridge, I have no idea which one but I think it was the George Washington Bridge, we saw why. It was like nothing I had ever seen. You could see all of Ground Zero from that bridge, and it literally looked like a cruise missile had struck in the heart of downtown. In that moment, when I saw exactly what I was trying to get into, I was scared again, and I said another prayer.
We arrived at the Javits Center at approximately 4 a.m. on September 12th. By that time it had started to pour down rain. There was already a long line of firefighters from all over, ready to volunteer. We parked the truck and made note of where it was. On the way in, it was surprising how much military equipment I already saw patrolling the streets. At that point my brother and I separated, because firefighters had one line and all other volunteers had another. I had no idea it was going to be so long before we got back together.
I met guys in that line from Boston, Connecticut, Pittsburgh, really everywhere within driving distance that had men to spare. There were hundreds of us. Looking around, I thought to myself, now this is my America.
Everyone from all over, of all kinds, coming together just because people needed help. That is what firefighters do. That is what Americans do.
After several hours of standing in the rain, I was soaked to the bone. We were all wearing our full turnout gear, because as you can imagine it is a little more water resistant than normal clothes, so you can stay a bit drier, but it also picks up an extra twenty pounds when it gets wet. Eventually there was an announcement. All firefighters volunteering, this way. As we walked I figured they were just moving the line, and I was sure there would be more waiting. Nope. They started loading us onto buses. This was it. I was going in.
There was not much talking on that bus. We all just sat there silently, taking it in as we went. I am sure we were all tired. I had been up for almost twenty four hours at that point, and a lot of the others had been waiting in line nearly the whole time. We came to a stop a mile or more from the fence line, and the driver told us we would be walking from there, because nothing but fire vehicles were allowed in or out right then. Well, that is just awesome. I am already tired, in full turnout gear, soaked and wet, and now on foot. Oh well. It was probably the best thing, because we got to walk up and take in the whole scene as we went.
As we got closer I still really could not see anything but smoke, and what looked like the glow of flames coming from where we were heading. We arrived at a huge fence that had been put up around the whole area, at least eight feet tall, topped with razor wire, and guarded at every entrance by military personnel. They really did not want any looting, and they made it real clear it would not be tolerated. The entrance had plywood with the word “checkpoint” spray painted on it, which still blocked our view of what was beyond.
As we passed through, we got our first glimpse of what was really going on, from a couple of blocks away. Smashed and inoperable fire equipment that had already been dug out lined the streets. It is an eerie sight, all that ruined equipment, when you are walking toward the place where the damage happened. Each person had to check in at the FDNY chief’s tent along the way, since he was the commanding officer on the scene and he had to keep track of everyone. I am sure he was desperate not to lose anyone else under his command. The ranking officer for each department was called into the tent to give the names of their firefighters so they could be recorded. Since I was the only one from my department, I guessed that meant they were talking to me. I wonder how young and scared I must have looked, standing there barely twenty one and all alone.
I got checked in and tossed in with a group from Pittsburgh so I would not get lost, I guess. We were all formed together into an all volunteer battalion, led by an FDNY captain. To this day I wish I knew his name, but all I can remember is that at the very beginning he told us he had lost a brother and an uncle the day before, not to mention countless friends, so if he could carry on, he sure appreciated the help, because we were going to carry on together now. I will never forget that. I cannot imagine what he felt, seeing all of us from all over, so ready and eager to help. Maybe that is why he got the job. At that moment, he needed to see how much everyone cared.
Into Ground Zero
As we got close, you could see where the debris finally stopped, wedged between two buildings, the American Express building and I think the MetLife building. The debris alone stood at least ten stories high, a mangled, nasty mess that looked like it could lose pieces, or the whole thing come crashing down, at any time. We walked past it, stepping over all the fire hoses with makeshift ramps built over them so equipment could still pass through without cutting off the water supply.
We were directed into the American Express building, and our captain flung everything off a table in the lobby, so it all crashed to the floor. I am sure he did not care. It is not like things were not already a mess, and the table he had just cleared was now the cleanest spot in the whole building. It was about 6 a.m. on September 12th when he climbed up on top of that table. The sun had just started to come up, shining light over his shoulder through a huge glass window on the other side. Here is what we are going to do, he said. We are going to start on the first floor and search every floor on the way to the top, looking for people who could not get out, or precious belongings that got left behind. Then, on the way back down, we are going to pull all the broken glass from the windows back into the building, so it does not fall on anyone working below. We are going to get this done fast and safe. We stick together in our groups, and if we hear the sirens blare, we all pull out and meet back at the chief’s tent. Got it.
You see, they were used to those sirens, because they had already had to evacuate several times as more buildings came down. I sure hoped I would not hear them. At least now I had a plan and a job to do. I was ready to finally be helping.
As we marched up the steps, I never expected it to still be so smoky, the air still so clouded with debris. Luckily I had brought a couple of full face respirators with me, and I pulled one out and put it on, like some of the others did. I cannot imagine the logistics of making sure everyone had an air pack, that would have been next to impossible to pull off. It did not take but minutes and my mask was clogged. Since that did not work, I was not left with a lot of options, so I pulled out my handkerchief, wrapped it around my nose and mouth, tied it in the back, and hoped for the best. I am sure it was better than nothing, but probably not a whole lot.
On the landing
That building was tall. I remember when I got to the first landing, probably fifteen or twenty stories up above Ground Zero. We just crawled right out onto it, because enough of the windows were already broken that you could access it easily. The first thing I noticed was the amount of paper and other debris still fluttering around the city. It was like a ticker tape parade, but so much more ominous.
As we walked out onto that landing, I will never forget the sight of Ground Zero below. The closest thing I can say is that it looked about like what I imagine a nuclear bomb set off in downtown would look like. Several square blocks, all destroyed, laid out there before me. I stood there taking it all in for I do not know how long. Probably quite a while. It was like nothing I ever hope to see again.
I noticed some of the other guys taking out cameras and taking pictures, and I remembered that I had a camera in my fire coat too. I ran the website for my department, so I was pretty used to taking pictures of things people would not normally see. But I could not bring myself to take any that day. I remember thinking, what are you doing? This is a tragedy. This is hallowed ground, not a tourist attraction. I had already gotten my fill from the TV, and I knew there would be plenty of pictures if I ever wanted to see them again. I did not need to be another person snapping photos.
Instead, I removed my helmet, knelt down, and I prayed again. I prayed for us all to stay safe, I prayed for the victims, and yes, I again prayed for my country that I love so much. You may be surprised to know that I actually set off a trend. Every firefighter out on that landing with me knelt down too, and we all prayed together. I do not know how long it lasted, probably a minute, but it is a minute I will never forget, because I have never felt closer to God than I did right then. With all the destruction and chaos below, the sun shined down through the clouds and onto all of us on that ledge. Those of you who know God can understand. Those of you who do not just cannot imagine what an amazing experience that is.
After we were through with that, I looked around and noticed the amount of shoes sitting there among the debris on that landing, twenty stories in the air. Mostly just one shoe, with no match. I could not help but wonder if they had owners at one time, and how they ended up there, already so high in the air.
As we moved on searching the building, it was filled with a thick haze and totally empty. It felt strange and unnerving to be in such a large skyscraper, knowing it was completely empty except for us. When we came across a locked door, we smashed it open to see what was on the other side, but we tried to leave as much of the building intact as we could. By the time we made it to the top, my arms were covered with women’s purses. I could not bring myself to let them go. I wanted to make sure they got back to whoever they belonged to, and if the owner did not make it out, that made it even more important to me to get them returned. The captain sent me down with all the purses to drop off at the chief’s tent, and to note which building they came from.
By the time I made it back to my group, I was exhausted. There were really no broken windows above the fiftieth floor, but by the time I climbed back up all those steps in full turnout gear, I was spent. You see, I was not used to climbing all those steps, because where I came from the highest building was three stories tall. We could not risk the elevator, so that left no choice but the stairs. Somehow I found the strength, and I carried on, working methodically back down with everyone else, pulling glass inward from every broken window we could find, so no glass would fall on the workers below.
When we made it to the lobby again, after roughly ten to twelve hours of work, our captain said it was time to rest before we got back to it. I was bone tired, but I did not want to leave, not after it had taken so long to get to that point. So along with everyone else in my group, I found a spot in the main lobby, sat against the wall, and fell asleep. I fell asleep sitting straight up, because I did not even have the strength to fall over.
The days after
I do not know how long he let us sleep there, or if he even got any sleep himself. I had no concept of time. I could only risk turning on my cell phone once a day to check voicemails and call people back, because I had no way to recharge it, and it was my only link to the outside world. After a few minutes of calls to loved ones, we would go to the cafeteria and eat breakfast, or whatever meal it actually was at that hour, in the same American Express building. They had set up to cook for everyone from that location, and you could wander in at virtually any time and get something to eat. It was always filled with FDNY, FBI, ATF, virtually every agency you can think of, along with us volunteers. People from all over the country, of all different origins, coming together to eat. Once again, when the chips are down, that is my America.
My brother volunteered every single day too. I do not think they ever let him work on the pile, but he cleaned up debris and handed out food and water for the Salvation Army. I would never have been able to survive or get by up there without him on the outside, helping to arrange things and secure lodging. It really was a team effort, and I could not have done it without him.
I stayed in touch with my fire department the whole time. Each day I talked with someone, and each day I heard promises that they were coming, that they just had to make arrangements first. It would be the weekend, then next week for sure, and all the while, nobody ever came. I felt betrayed by them for the longest time, and I am not sure I will ever fully forgive them for leaving me hanging like that. But thank God I was not alone.
During all this time, we were given a bunch of FDNY gear and told we were honorary FDNY, and to wear it while we were in town. Well, sure, I was not going to argue with that. And everywhere we went, we were talked to, thanked, and never allowed to pay for food. I did not test it, but we probably could have had anything we wanted in that town. Anyone who has ever been to New York City knows this is not normal. Normally people would spit on you, cuss you out, or worse if you tried to talk to them. Not in the aftermath of September 11th. People came together then. They loved one another then. The whole country came together like I have never seen before or since. Those were the good days, and the times I choose to remember most. That is really what I hope most people take away from this story.
I do not know how long I spent up there in total, but eventually we ran out of money, and life brought us home. On that drive back, I decided I would live the rest of my life like it was September 12th, 2001. I also decided I was going to join the Air Force and take the fight to the terrorists.
Coming home
It was not but a few short months after we got back that I got sick, and eventually the fire department became too much for me. I still battle more diseases than I can keep track of, have had too many surgeries to mention, and have struggled in ways I never expected, all because of my time in New York. I am going to choose not to dwell on those things here, because this story is about the positive parts of life.
Over the years, times have been hard in a lot of ways, but I have a great wife and family right by my side. I have chosen to never forget my experiences, sometimes to my own detriment, but overall I would not change a thing. That whole experience brought me closer to God than I could have ever imagined. It made me appreciate the little things in life, and nature, so much more. It taught me that anything you want to accomplish in life can be done, if you just push yourself hard enough. Most importantly, it taught me to never give up.
I may be strange to some people, and that is okay. Believe me, I am fine with it. If someone is hungry, I feed them. If someone needs help, I help them. I am sure I have helped a lot of people reading this right now, and that is okay too. I was more than happy to. You do not do nice things for recognition, or because you expect to be paid back someday. You do them because it is the right thing to do. People do not ask for anything, because that is just not how it works. If you see a need, just fill it. Do not bother asking any questions.
Live like it is September 12th
Strive to remember what it was like in those days after 9/11/2001, when our whole country came together. We could have that again. Do not let the world drive us apart. Forget all the polarization going on now, pitting black against white, rich against poor, Democrat against Republican, and remember that above all we are Americans, and when times are hard, we come together. We need to remember that more now than at any other time in my life.
If you take one thing away from this story, let it be this: strive to live every day like it is September 12th, 2001. And never forget.
Thank each of you for taking the time to read this, and to get to know me through my story. A simple American story. I care about every single one of you, so know this. We will get through this together.
God bless.
In loving memory of my mother, Susie. She passed several years ago now and I’ve chosen to leave every word about her exactly as it was. She always loved this story and is the one who encouraged me to share my words with the world the most. She always knew how much I admired her. Now she knows for certain. I love you, Mom.
Where Hope Takes Flight
