Remembrances from a 9/11 worker

Sept. 11th is a day that this generation, and hopefully future generations, will mark with reflection as I do. I am one of the fortunate people honored to spend seven months of my life working at ground zero.

I lived in a small town just north of Boston, an area with many victims as two of the planes flew out of Boston's Logan Airport. My town lost a young family of three on their way to Disneyland for a vacation, the Hanson family from Groton, MA. Their daughter was the youngest 9-11 victim, and she would have been a senior in high school this year.

I was asked to go to New York for a week following the attacks. The company I worked for was one of the prime contractors working at ground zero. I knew from having seen other types of disasters that this was something different. Before I had even reached the second checkpoint, I called my home office and extended my assignment.

In the early days, workers entered the zone passing through crowds of people that cheered, patted us on the back, handed us bottles of water. Some had a lost look in their eyes as they handed you a flier with a picture of their loved one and a description with the word "MISSING."

I worked in what eventually became the Port Authority sector. The Port Authority Police Department (PAPD) lost 37 officers that day. The loss of 37 officers that day represents the largest loss of life by a police department on any single day in U.S. history. They are often referred to as the PAPD 37.

It all hit home one night. After working a 12-hour shift, tired and drawn, a co-worker and I were sitting in a pizza place getting a bite to eat before going back to "the pile." A woman walked up and asked us if we were ground zero workers. She talked to us a bit, told us to be safe and handed us a card with the picture of a young man. On the back was his name: Carl Bini of Rescue 5. She told us he was missing, gave us a hug and thanked us for helping bring him home from his last mission.

It didn't matter who we were, where we came from, or anything else. We were making a difference.

It took awhile to realize, but the difference was also being made in us. The difference showed in some of us sooner than others. I carried memories of the place, good and bad, for years. Had trouble holding onto jobs, trouble sleeping, had a few health problems. A year ago, at the Atomic Testing Museum, I had the opportunity to take part in the consecration of a piece of steel from the World Trade Center. I saw that people were still touched by the events of that day and were drawn to anything that memorialized the event and the victims.

As we approached the 10-year commemoration, I joined the group 911 Remembrance here in Las Vegas. The mission of the group is "celebration of life, reverence for our survivors, and memory of our fallen through the events of 9/11 Remembrance, Igniting The Spirit Of Unity we felt so strongly on that day, a decade ago, and still have today."

Of course my mind will turn to the victims of that day but also those victims with health problems associated with ground zero and the service men and women fighting the war on terror. I will spend this time reflecting on the sacrifices made by those that performed heroic acts in the days and weeks following this event: helping families by recovering a victim, the people that fed us and gave us warm, dry clothes on cold and rainy nights, and the recovery dogs that worked selflessly. I will also reflect on one dog in particular, "Sirius" (Badge No. 17), a Port Authority bomb-sniffing dog recovered in January 2002. To this day, I refer to the PAPD officers lost that day as the PAPD 38, adding "Sirius" to the list of 37 officers. He was the only animal to die on 9/11 and rarely identified on the list of victims.

As we approach this day 10 years later, consider making a donation to the National September 11 Memorial & Museum. Thank a service man or woman for their service. More importantly, look at your family and always make sure they know you love them. After having looked into the lost eyes of people that missed that last conversation, I know that may be the greatest gift you can give to yourself or your family.

By Duane Matters Jr., former ground-zero worker and 911 Remembrance Committee member