I'm a New York City firefighter, as was my father and his father before him. Being Irish Catholic, most of my relatives were hard-nosed cops. It was always a verbal battle when the family got together. Who was tougher, braver and more active always came up during heated debates- especially after a few drinks. My grandfather always started off his argument with, "Well, I used to work in the Bronx. We didn't have all your fancy equipment. It was hustle, courage, and dedication that got the damn job done." That was the start to a loud and uproarious argument. "Pop, you think we ain't got heart? Look at the news. You see thousands of guys pulling together and that kind of stuff happens every day. It didn't take this kind of act to get us united. We're always a team!" Lately however, I would end our arguments with a smart ass comment like, " You were never in the position I'm in right now with all that's going on in this city. You may think you've seen tough times, bad fires, horrible accidents but you've ain't seen nutting like this. You can't ever imagine in your worsted nightmare what ground zero looks like." Dust, glass, pieces of steel and stone mixed in with some body part. It's actually erie at times picking up a piece of debris and hoping there's no surprise under it.
             "It's part of the job, son. What's the difference if it's where you were at today, or simply running into a burning apartment house to save some kid. All part of the job. We just don't get to pick our spots, do we??"
             I'm very tired, cold, and could use a cold brew. Twelve hours ago I started my shift at midnight, September 11th. It's ironic that the date is 9/11, The same as 911- the emergency call for help. It was very slow when I came on duty. There were no alarms and I went right to sleep when I started and got seven hours of solid sleep. I got up to watch the news and put on a fresh pot of coffee. The alarm sounded about nine o'clo...