A Decade of Hope

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First published in 2011 by Viking Penguin, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

 

Copyright © Dennis Smith, 2011 All rights reserved

 

Page 365 constitutes an extension of this copyright page.

 

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Smith, Dennis, 1940-
A decade of hope : stories of grief and endurance from 9/11 families and friends /
Dennis Smith with Deirdre Smith.
p. cm.

ISBN : 978-1-101-54351-1

1. September 11 Terrorist Attacks, 2001—Personal narratives. 2. September 11 Terrorist
Attacks, 2001—Social aspects. 3. Grief—United States. I. Smith, Déirdre. II. Title.
HV6432.7.S635 2011
974.7'10440922—dc23 2011023325

 

 

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. . . we will not fear, though the earth should change, and though the mountains slip into the heart of the sea; though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains quake at its swelling pride. Listen.... the God of Jacob is our stronghold. Listen.

—Psalm 46:1-3, 7

I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don't be troubled or afraid.

—John 14:27

I want to thank and acknowledge the goodwill and the inspiring strength of the twenty-five interviewees within these pages who allowed themselves to speak so freely about their lives and loss. It would be an understatement to say that it was difficult for them to again call upon those memories of the worst times in their lives.

 

 

 

The president of Viking, Clare Ferraro, has been generous in supporting the efforts of the 9/11 community, and her friendship is much appreciated. Rick Kot is the most reliable editor a writer could possibly have, and I deeply thank him for everything he has contributed to making this a more meaningful book and me a more thoughtful scribe. I appreciate editorial assistant Kyle Davis for his relentless attention. I would like to convey a big thanks to the team of Viking professionsals, from the book designer, Francesca Belanger; jacket designer, Eric White; to all of those who shepherd a book from the initial proposal through the editorial process; and to those whose sales and marketing efforts bring it finally to the public. My agent, Al Zuckerman, has represented giants in the publishing industry, but he, as Vasari said about Raphael, always found time for the common man. Thanks, Al. FDNY commissioner Sal Cassano and NYPD lieutenant Gene Whyte offered good advice and help that are manifested in the pages of this book. Teresa Grogan-Lustberg has again offered consequential direction, this time in suggesting I ask Valary Oleinik to transcribe the recordings of what became more than thirteen hundred pages of manuscript. Thank you, Valary, for enduring the difficulty of listening to these many heartfelt and very moving interviews. Jennifer Adams and her staff at Tribute, the 9/11 families memorial center on Liberty Street, helped to recommend the right balance of interviews among the many thousands of possibilities. I will always appreciate their support. I thank my children Brendan, Dennis, Sean, and Aislinn for keeping me in the front of their collective mind. And, finally, I thank my daughter Deirdre, whose intelligence and writing skill helped me mold these interviews into a coherent whole called
A Decade of Hope
.

 

—Dennis Smith, New York City, May 13, 2011

N
ever before in American history had our peace and well-being been so suddenly, fully, and unalterably changed as they were on the morning of September 11, 2001. On that Tuesday morning all Americans suffered, and many around the world suffered with us. The suffering grew more intense as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, as the powerful images of search and recovery, funerals, and honors were presented to us. Now, as those months have grown into the accumulated years of a decade, most of us are still very much haunted by the horror of that day, and we continue to feel the pain within that memory.

But for thousands of Americans—the spouses, children, parents, siblings, and loved ones of the 2,974 men, women, and children killed in the World Trade Center, in Shanksville, Pennsylvania, and in the Pentagon—memory can be a cruel master.

How have they gotten through this time, these people who directly experienced the loss of someone vitally loved? How have they dealt with such a public and historically important loss, a loss that they were reminded of each day in newspapers and magazines and on television? How have they faced the absence of a family member at every milestone celebration—birthdays, graduations, engagements, marriages?

How have they rebuilt their lives? How have they found the inner resilience to transcend the grief of their loss—and the pain of wondering what might have been for the individuals lost that day? I wondered if the suffering of 9/11 became an obstacle for every thought that was meant to be hopeful, every plan to build for tomorrow. Was every thought framed within the shadows of terrible loss? Was peace possible for these families, or was there a continuing maelstrom of sadness?

 

 

I have spent a life working in the emergency services, from a time of great social unrest in the South Bronx to that field of absolute destruction at the World Trade Center on 9/11. I arrived at Ground Zero immediately following the fall of the North Tower, and I stayed for fifty-six days. I attended dozens of funerals through those early months of September, October, and November of 2001, so along with the thousands who lined up outside those churches and temples I came to share as much as was possible the depth of family grief.

What I sought to discover in the interviews in this book is how these individuals found the courage and the hopefulness to move forward in their lives, to ensure the containment of their families, to grieve and to honor, and to understand the consequence of this very visible tragedy on their future. And, for many, to see how they were able to transform their grief into productive ends.

Faith, compassion, and charity are required to attain the greatest of virtues—hope. We need to believe that the world of tomorrow will be a good world, populated by moral and well-meaning people. It is why we have eulogies—to celebrate the good of a life, for we rely on the memory of that good to serve us in molding a life of decency as we step into our future.

It is easy to say that we must believe in the goodness of our future, and that our collective future can be better than our past. But it is not easy to live with the memory of loss even when building a better tomorrow. At the heart of it all, it takes moral character and goodness to go on.

Dan Nigro was the chief of operations when he drove with Chief of Department Peter Ganci over the Brooklyn Bridge from the Fire Department's Brooklyn headquarters. “This is going to be the worst day of our lives,” Chief Nigro uttered as they watched the smoke rising from the North Tower. Not long after, Chief Ganci asked him to walk the perimeter of the buildings to do an additional evaluation. The South Building came down when he reached the Church Street side of the complex, and he ran for his life. He never saw Chief Ganci again.

 

 

 

B
efore the collapse I was on Church Street. I was heading to the lobby of the South Tower, which was a shortcut back to the command post on West Street. If you went through the South Tower, then through the Marriott Hotel, you could stay fully in the interior as you walked. All I saw on Church Street were pieces of the building and pieces of the plane. I thought that the South Tower would be a safer route back.