Addressing 9/11 Haters
21 Years Later I’m Reminded There’s Still More To Say.
I don’t like talking about September 11, 2001. I find it to be redundant at times. There are enough documentaries and books and survivors who can tell you about it better than I can. A few years ago a comedian, Ari Shaffir, who somehow became one of my best friends, pressed me to come on his podcast, Skeptic Tank and talk about it. I had never spoken about it publicly other than a few posts on facebook remembering friends and loved ones and some columns I wrote while I was still a professional journalist.
I received awards for those words I wrote and I remember thinking why am I doing this? I had felt the awards shined a light on me and not the subject matter so I stopped writing about it. By the time I was fully engrossed in the comedy world Ari had been tipped off that I had some connection to that tragic day and he wanted to know more about it. He told me the closest he was to it was sitting at the Comedy Store wondering whether comedy could help somehow. Talking about it with him we came to the conclusion that a person like Ari who was somewhat disconnected from the physical and mental events of that day had a lot more to learn about the effect it had on the individual, but also the ripple effect it still had now years later. At the time it had been a little over a decade. Since I stopped writing about it I noticed the lack of attention towards everyone who were still getting sick and dying from 9/11 related injuries were barely talked about. I watched and was inspired by Jon Stewart who seemed like the only person fighting and giving a voice to the voiceless.
So understand when I do write or talk about it, that’s the reason. My friends are dying. 21 years later and they are still dying. It’s the same now as it was when I did go on the podcast to talk about it. Since then I’ve noticed my story gets trolled and comes into question. I’m really not concerned about what you think or what you felt about what I said, it happened. I wished it didn’t. I wish I wasn’t there. I wish I had discovered I was sick much earlier. I wish I didn’t cough so much that people think I have Covid all the time. I wish I didn’t struggle to speak. The hope is it comes back, the reality is that it will get worse and eventually … who the fuck knows.
So what was my goal? Did I tell a bunch of stories so that people won’t be forgotten? That didn’t work. They were still forgotten. These entries and essays along with the full account on a podcast are now part of a time capsule. I hope I can look back at these some day and feel like the message was received. I’ll take the criticism and I’ll deal with the naysayers because in the end I can’t avoid the inevitable.
This was the first year I felt that life would be cut short. It’s also the first time I’m using myself as an example of being sick. Reality has sunk in. I repeat the words of my friend John DeStefano, a retired firefighter from the Bronx, in my head everyday. “When my time comes, and it will sooner rather than later, I’ll die knowing that getting sick over recovery efforts all these years later was the best thing I ever did. And I’d do it again.”
I take solace in those words. They help me power through the pain. They’ve helped me with the anxiety I’ve felt with all the new health issues I’ve faced this year. It’s hard to talk about. I’m not sure that those same haters reading this won’t call me out and say “he’s really not sick”. To that I say step into my shoes. One of the comments I read said I was no hero. I was confused, disoriented, scared and I felt useless being there. Those aren’t the common traits of a hero, if anything those feelings were a reminder that I didn’t belong there. I’m not a hero. I still try to understand why I was there and what my purpose was.
I woke up this morning. That’s enough to make me feel positive about today. I appreciate the things I still can do and focus less on what I can’t do. On most 9/11 mornings I make sure to watch the sun rise. I make sure to remember the people we lost. I make sure to experience every emotion before I move forward.
It’s been 21 years … To the people I knew you are missed every day. Mike Marti, Jennifer Mazzotta, Lucy Crifasi, Volunteer EMT Richie Pearlman, Sean Powell, Dominique Pandolfo, Firefighters John Moran, Adam Rand, Joe Hunter and John Giordano.
