What role, if any, did you play in the rescue, recovery, and relief efforts? 
I spent the next nine months at Ground Zero as the Day Tour Commander of the Rescue and Recovery Operation. Initially, I oversaw the rescue of potential survivors. The rescue, however, quickly turned into a recovery operation. I was interacting with family members, providing security for dignitaries that came to visit the site, and attending daily meetings with all the entities that worked at Ground Zero. This included the trades, construction workers, truck drivers, DSNY, PAPD, and NYPD. We tried to take baby steps, coming up with goals for the next 24 hours and reviewing the past 24 hours. It was a 16-acre site and coordination was key to ensure everything possible was done to protect the dignity of the people that were lost. We also had to ensure the safety of the people working on the site. 

One of the most difficult things we had to do was recovering the individuals we worked with and seeing them in that condition, some only recognizable by their name tags or the serial numbers on their weapons. It was odd. We would move into some areas, and nothing would survive. The fires had been burning for so long and the heat was so intense that anything that had been there would have turned into ash. Then, we would move five feet away and find things perfectly intact. On one day, as we moved to the lower portion between the North Tower and Building 6, we found many photographs of New York City. As it turns out, the Port Authority had a large photo archive of things around the city and kept them in a storage area underneath the site. We discovered many of these photos still intact. One particular photo found by one of my officers was of me – at my graduation ceremony from the Port Authority Police Academy. Of the millions of tons of debris, this was handed to me.  

Can you describe the bond between yourself and other recovery workers? How has this community impacted you?  
There is a quote on a wall in the Museum from recovery worker Joe Bradley that sums it up: “We came in as individuals. And we’ll walk out together.” We developed bonds with people at the site that we normally wouldn’t have been working as closely with - the trade unions, the iron workers, the grapple operators. The closeness between the NYPD, PAPD, and FDNY came about because all three departments suffered tremendous losses, and also because members of the department lost family members that day.

It felt like one long day. We were there for so many hours. When human remains were found, they would be placed in a bag, draped in an American flag, and carried out by a group of workers. Performing this ceremony hundreds of times created a bond between us that you would never experience under any other circumstances.  

What does May 30th mean to you?  
Going at that pace for such a long period of time, day in and day out, I don’t think we were prepared that someday it would end. In March we tried to establish an exact timeline, which was not an easy thing to do. We assessed the project based on the amount of material that remained on the site that needed to be sifted through, how many truckloads we estimated it to be, and the number of trucks that were leaving each day. In doing this, we came up with the date of May 30th. This would be declared the closing day of the rescue and recovery operation.  

We also decided to hold a "Workers Day" ceremony on May 28. This is when we would cut down the final steel column and prepare it for its exit two days later. That day, around what would’ve been the change of tours, we worked two 12-hour shifts, and brought all the workers down. We all surrounded the final column, and the crane was brought over. Each iron worker was able to cut about an inch of the column. Then it was lifted and lowered onto the flatbed truck and covered in a large American flag and a large bouquet of flowers. At that point, it was prepped to be driven out on May 30.  

We had been operating at such a fast pace, but for that brief moment when I took a step back, I realized all that had been accomplished. However, I also realized just how many people had still not been identified or accounted for.  

Do you have any health issues connected to your time at Ground Zero?  
Over the past 20 years, I’d been focused on helping other people that had worked for me or had participated in the rescue and recovery operation and never really focused on myself. But after 43 years on the job, and likely retiring in the near future, I’ve started to focus on my health and get checked out. I’ve found some issues that I’ve had to deal with.  

To the generation who is growing up with no memory of September 11th, why is it important to share your story and the stories of others with them?  
I was on the job not only for the events on 9/11, but also the first attack in 1993. Amazingly, a lot of people are not aware of 1993. They’re not aware of the loss of life, the injuries, and the damage that was done. It reinforces the need for us to tell people about what occurred and what the impact of the loss of life was. Also, the bravery of the people that responded to the attacks and the camaraderie they formed.  

Anything else you’d like to add?  
Just as it’s important for us to share the experiences of responding on 9/11 and the nine-month rescue and recovery operation, it's also important in recognition of those that have health issues from their exposures at Ground Zero, to share and educate others on how they can operate safely and best practices to protect people from possible exposures.  

When 9/11 happened, everybody came to help with the best of intentions, but given how many people have health issues as a result of this, it's alarming. If we don’t ensure we take lessons learned from this to protect people who may be in these types of environments, we have learned nothing.  

Compiled by Caitlyn Best, Government and Community Affairs Coordinator

Lila Nordstrom, a student at Stuyvesant High School on 9/11, still lives with the emotional and physical effects of her ordeal that morning. But she parlayed her experience into a life of health care advocacy, founding the organization StuyHealth and lobbying in Washington, D.C. to ensure former lower Manhattan students were covered under the Zadroga Act.  

Ahead of the 20th anniversary of the formal end to rescue and recovery efforts at Ground Zero, Nordstrom - who also authored the book "Some Kids Left Behind" - shares her 9/11 story and its long-term impact. 

Where were you on 9/11?
I was a student at Stuyvesant High School, about three blocks away from the World Trade Center. Suddenly, we heard a big explosion and the school shook. When we looked, an enormous fireball was coming out of one of the towers. We looked on with alarm, but our teacher had been there during the 1993 bombing, so he kept teaching until the second explosion. When a student ran by our classroom and told us it was a second plane, we knew it was terrorism. It was in the back of everyone’s minds, but we were hoping it wasn’t. Shortly after, a huge rumbling started, and the dust cloud rushed by. The school decided to move us to our homerooms, but I went to the nurse’s office because I was asthmatic. The nurse’s office was right near the exit we would evacuate from, so when that time came, I was one of the first students out. When I stepped out of the building, the second tower started to fall, so I ended up in a stampede of people running uptown. When things started to calm down, I didn't know anyone and continued walking. Eventually, I saw another teacher from Stuyvesant who kept walking with me.

I walked by my house in the Chelsea neighborhood. People had their car doors open, with the radio blasting so everyone could hear the news. On the radio, we heard rumors that they were evacuating Manhattan, and that there were planes they anticipated heading towards more buildings in New York. I lived right under the Empire State Building, and I decided to get away from skyscrapers. A classmate lived in Astoria, Queens, so the I started walking there. My dad reached me at one point, when I had just gotten to Queens. He told me to turn around and come back, and I said no. I assumed they hadn’t gotten the news that we had to evacuate Manhattan, but it turned out that wasn’t true.

The teacher that I walked with was incredibly comforting to me. I was so happy to have someone take charge of the situation. Now, after communicating with her, I know she was only 25 years old. She was scared herself and holding it together because she was the adult. We walked together for quite a while. During that time, there was another rumor that something happened uptown, and we would have to get to New Jersey. We had whole conversations about how realistic it was to swim to New Jersey, but I didn’t know how to swim. She was the gym teacher and swimming coach, so she was like, “I can swim you to New Jersey!” To me, it was just incredibly comforting to have someone else have some responsibility.

After 9/11, how were you connected to lower Manhattan?
Stuyvesant was one of the first lower Manhattan schools to return, on October 9th. The school had been used as a command center with first responders and search dogs who were sleeping there, and they cleaned it over a weekend. Stuyvesant students were not caught in the dust cloud, so we had no reason to get exposed to the dust on 9/11, but because we returned so early, we got exposed to the clean-up in numerous ways. The building was contaminated, because it was never cleaned properly. We didn’t know that until we left the following summer. The air wasn’t safe, because fires were still burning and continued to burn for months. The area smelled like smoke. The area wasn’t open to the public yet, so it was just residents and us. Then, one of the barges that carried debris to the landfill was moved right next to our school. Trucks dumping debris were driving past all day, every day. We continued to get exposed for months. All that World Trade Center dust with those mystery chemicals that made first responders sick was going right into our airways.

Can you describe the bond you feel with the 9/11 community? How has that community impacted you?
I’ve made so many first responder friends. Advocacy groups that represent first responders and survivors operate in different circles and their resources are different too, which meant there were a lot of obstacles to creating bonds with the responder advocacy community. But the way that they took me in, helped me make introductions, and echoed my points was impactful. There is also a bond between graduating classes who experienced this together. I’ve noticed they are all still in close touch, which speaks to what it is to go through a crisis together.

What does May 30th mean to you?
It was a hopeful moment because it felt like some chapter of this event had closed. For us, by the time that date rolled around, it didn’t mark the end of the crisis for us. It didn’t end up closing in the way we would hope. Our exposure continued after that point, and the back and forth about whether it was safe was ongoing. The date was the end of a specific kind of effort, but not the end of the effort entirely.

Do you have any health issues connected to your time at Ground Zero and the surrounding area?
There were immediate health effects that we experienced, but we were told they were temporary. In retrospect, I can see that’s not something they could have known. If you have 80 kids waiting to go to the nurse’s office over “minor coughs and allergies,” that’s indicative of a larger problem. There were reports at the time that it was impossible to get in to see the nurse at Stuyvesant because the line was so long. My asthma worsened, I developed GERD and PTSD.

Why is important to share your story - and the stories of others - with the generation now growing up with no memory of September 11th?  
If you don’t learn your history, it will repeat itself. I see connections to other disasters, and I see the same mistakes being made over and over. I think the fact that the survivor community has been overlooked in the narrative in 9/11 has not only had consequences for us, but also for how we treat civilian survivors everywhere. It's important to understand what it is to be a civilian survivor and how we can do better by those people. My book is a civilian survivor story that is not about getting sick, but how to take action. I feel obligated to pay that information forward. I want to provide other survivors with the tools needed to become a public figure after a crisis.

Anything else you’d like to add?
I got involved in health advocacy in 2006, when I graduated from college. I was working in college but wasn’t offered health insurance and knew I'd be in the same predicament after graduation too. I realized there would not be a lot of health options available, and I was already struggling to pay for my asthma medication. I was a childhood asthmatic, but my asthma had gotten worse after 9/11. I was stockpiling medicine because I knew I wouldn’t be able to see a doctor to get the medication.

During this time, [NYPD detective] James Zadroga died [January, 2006], which began the discussion about whether more people would also die from their exposure at the World Trade Center. At the time, the conversation was around first responders. I wrote an op-ed and started sharing it with people and eventually turned it into a petition. We started lobbying in Washington and took off from there. The student population was difficult to organize around because they were not residents. There were other schools in the area, like Stuyvesant, that didn't serve local residents exclusively. There was a gap in the advocacy community when it came to young people and someone who went to school downtown. 

Compiled by Caitlyn Best, Government and Community Affairs Coordinator

See Also:
MEMO Blog: Stories of Hope 
MEMO Blog: Lila Nordstrom Advocates for Affordable Health Care

September 11th would ultimately become the start of Dr. Alison Thompson's career as a full-time humanitarian first responder. She went on to found Third Wave Volunteers, assisting with disaster relief around the world and helping to run refugee camps, field hospitals, and resilience hubs - most recently in Ukraine.  

As part of our ongoing series marking the 20th anniversary of the formal end to rescue and recovery operations at Ground Zero, Thompson shares her recollections of the grueling months she spent volunteering at the site. 

Where were you on 9/11?  
I was in my apartment on 84th Street and York Avenue when the news of the World Trade Center attack broke. I rollerbladed eight miles downtown to the site with a first aid kit to help. I was giving CPR near the North Tower when it collapsed and tried to race back uptown, away from the giant plume of smoke that was trying to engulf us. After hiding under a mail delivery truck, I crawled out into the smoky darkness. The world was now black and white and I slowly walked back down towards the World Trade Center to see how I could help. We were all then shuffled to City Hall where we were divided into military and medical groups. We were then driven by a police officer via a New York City bus to a staging area on the Westside Highway. It was around 5:30 p.m. after the collapse of Building 7, and there was much waiting around, when we finally went back to Ground Zero. We found ourselves staring into the gates of hell wondering what to do. It was as if a giant vile beast had risen up from under the ground and scorched everything in its path.   

What role did you play in the rescue, recovery, and relief efforts?  
I lived on the streets for the first five days after the attacks, with EMS worker Michael Voudouris and a small group of nurse volunteers. We worked as first responders washing out hundreds of firefighters’ eyes at the FDNY 10 House and helped with the bucket brigade searching for survivors. We then worked a block away giving medical triage to firefighters and police officers. We rigged flashlights over our heads with ropes and sat on the floor with bags of saline. The first responders spoke of friends who had died and how much they loved their wives.  

That first week we searched tirelessly for our stolen friends. Then, after five days of no sleep, I rollerbladed home and spent four days recovering before signing up with American Red Cross Respite 1 at St John’s University on Warren Street in lower Manhattan. Here, I aided rescue and recovery workers at Ground Zero for another nine months until its official closing on May 30th. 

Can you describe the bond between yourself and other recovery workers? How has this community impacted you?  
Mark Twain said, “The two most important days of your life are the day you were born and the day you find out why." I found out my “why” on September 11, 2001.  

It was then that we became front-line soldiers working in a war on American soil. Ground Zero became a city within a city - a city where I witnessed individuals crying rivers, and when we saw each other, we would give each other that "Ground Zero look" as if to say, ”I understand you.” It was a solemn look with no words, hard to describe to outsiders.  

Everyone became a close-knit family, and we watched each other’s backs. We worked 24/7 and no one wanted to stop. I became good friends with a retired fire chief looking for his missing firefighter son. He would sit next to me at lunch and talk about how tomorrow was always a new day to find his son. He broke our hearts, but we hugged him and encouraged him not to give up.  

On May 30th, at the formal ceremony concluding the operations at Ground Zero, many of the workers who had been there since the beginning were unable to attend. With our heads down and our hearts heavy with disappointment, we gathered instead on the Westside Highway to watch. As the first responders and bagpipers from the ceremony slowly made their way up the Westside Highway, hearing us cheer them on, they stopped. Recognizing us from the long hours of working alongside them, they motioned for the procession to turn their heads in our direction. They saluted us and threw their hats up into the air in respect. It is a moment etched into my brain forever along with dozens of other images that I’m reminded of daily.  

A true family never forgets each other.  

What does May 30th mean to you?  
May 30th is a day of closure for many of us at Ground Zero. No one wanted to stop working until the last beam and last human remains had been removed. It was a day that ended what seemed like a lifetime of work. It was a day to finally breathe again and weep for our friends whose lives were stolen that day. Those nine months after the attacks had felt like I was stuck in some sort of Groundhog's Day and it wasn’t until May 30th that I could finally move forward into my future where nothing would remain the same again.    

How was your brother impacted by his time at Ground Zero?  
My brother, Luis, knew shortly after arriving at Ground Zero that the rescue mission would quickly become one of recovery. He felt, out of honor and respect, that families who lost loved ones were owed their remains, so that they could have closure. He felt that was paramount and took it as a personal quest. 

Lou was diagnosed in 2016 with colorectal cancer that had metastasized to his liver. His cancer was certified by the World Trade Center Health Program as stemming from exposure to the toxins at Ground Zero. This began a new mission for my brother: find all those that had been there with him and make sure they had access to health coverage and compensation. My brother became a 9/11 victim advocate and the face of the fight for the permanent authorization of the September 11th Victim Compensation Fund - which culminated in the “Never Forget the Heroes: James Zadroga, Ray Pfeifer, and Luis Alvarez Permanent Authorization of the September 11th Victim Compensation Fund Act.” It was signed into law [in July 2019] exactly one month after he passed, funding the VCF through the year 2090. This came weeks after he testified before Congress alongside many other advocates including comedian/activist [and Museum board member] Jon Stewart for the permanent authorization bill. 

What does May 30th mean to you?
May 30th reminds me of all the brave souls that responded to Ground Zero to help battle the absolute destruction and terror in New York City. They responded so that a country that had been brought to its knees by terrorists could show the world that we could work together without thoughts of race, color, politics, or religion and help each other.  May 30th is also a time for me to remember and honor all the heroes we have lost due to illnesses contracted from the toxins at Ground Zero. Besides the initial 23 NYPD heroes who died when the towers fell, my brother was the 222nd to die from his time spent at Ground Zero. 

Why is it important for you to share your story - and the stories of others - with the generation now growing up with no memory of September 11th?  
It is important for those with no memory of September 11th to hear the individual stories about how a beautiful day in NYC, blue skies without a cloud to be seen, became one of the darkest days in the history of the world and it changed how we live. But it also is important to tell how a nation came together to survive this dark day.  

Anything else you’d like to add?
My thoughts and prayers are with all those who suffered and are still suffering from September 11th, 2001. May God bless us all! 

Compiled by Caitlyn Best, Government and Community Affairs Coordinator

See Also:
CNN

In this last full week of May - leading up to Monday's ceremony commemorating the 20th anniversary of the formal end to rescue and recovery efforts at Ground Zero - we're continuing our Q&A series profiling members of the diverse communities that aided the operations. 

Rob Serra completed his training at the FDNY EMS Academy on September 10, 2001, and as a probie, was technically off on the 11th. Nevertheless, the young firefighter walked into a firehouse on Staten Island ready to help. The fire at Ground Zero was the first he'd worked. Here, he tells us about his experience as a first responder. Serra, whose father-in-law Vincent M. Litto worked at Cantor Fitzgerald and was killed in the attacks, will also speak as a panelist at our special public program, "Advocacy and Activism," this coming Thursday, the 26th. 

Where were you on 9/11?
I finished the FDNY academy on September 10th, so on the 11th, I did not have an assigned fire house yet. The probies were also off on the 11th because the following day, 9/12, we were scheduled to work on an FBI terrorism drill. The morning of September 11th, I was driving to FDNY hockey tryouts when I saw the buildings on fire from the Verrazano Bridge. I called my brother [Andrew, an active FDNY firefighter on 9/11 who later worked with Ladder 131 in Red Hook] to ask him what to do. He told me to go home, get my gear, and report to the nearest firehouse. At 21 years old, with my head still shaved from the academy, I must have looked like a 12-year-old walking into that firehouse in Staten Island. From there, myself and other firefighters got on a bus to the World Trade Center site. My gear was brand new, and as we sat on the bus, I was pulling off the tags. The other firefighters were laying into me about this as the "new guy," which was a good thing because it took their mind off where we were going. Then, a priest told us he heard what was going on in lower Manhattan and read us our last rites. The ride was quiet after that.

On the way there, they also asked us to donate blood. We would later learn that unfortunately, it was not needed. They were expecting more victims to make it out. We got to Ground Zero in the afternoon, and at first, I didn’t know where I was. I was looking for someone to tell me what to do. I’d never been to a fire before. I found a chief and he had me stretch hose lines for one of the buildings south of the towers. There was fire blowing out every window.

After that, I got a bad bloody nose. Between that and giving blood earlier, I passed out. I would wake up later at the base of a bulldozer, not knowing how long I’d been out, but I quickly got up and found a few guys and started helping with the bucket brigade to pull debris out of voids. That’s how I spent my time until the chief told me to go home the next day.

What role did you play in the rescue and recovery efforts?
I went back to Ground Zero once or twice while I was on duty. They wanted me in the firehouse. As a probie, I was supposed to be training. That’s one of the great things about the Department: that in the midst of everything going on, the mourning and the chaos, they still wanted to train me. I also lived near Fresh Kills landfill where everything from the site was going. Since they were looking for volunteers, I went there often. That was rough going through the conveyor belts of debris.

Can you describe the bond you feel with other rescue and recovery workers? How has this community impacted you?
When I met Ray Pfiefer [FDNY, retired, who was working at Engine 40/Ladder 35 on 9/11], he was one of the people who always lit up a room, even though he was dying from 9/11 cancer. He always put everyone else ahead of himself. He took me under his wing and taught me how to do be an advocate. He was a reluctant advocate, but he knew he had to do it because someone had to. When he passed away, we knew we couldn’t let everything Ray did die with him. When a firefighter dies, they sell memorial shirts, and the money goes to the family to help cover expenses. Ray’s family didn’t want it, so they told us to do something good with it. We started the Ray Pfiefer Foundation. It makes me angry that we exist, but we cover everything that isn’t covered by the World Trade Center Health Center Program. Things like wheelchairs, portable oxygen tanks, certain medications, experimental treatments, home hospice care. It’s all things that would make Ray happy. There's six of us firefighters that run the foundation as volunteers.

What does May 30th mean to you?
For me, it’s marked with sadness because there’s so many people that weren’t found. It meant we got to the bottom, and they weren’t there. My family is lucky. My wife’s father was identified a year later at Fresh Kills. The hardest part is that there are people that weren’t found and for so many people, they didn’t get closure.

Do you have any 9/11-related health issues?
My health issues started on 9/11 with the nose bleeds. I had nose bleeds every day for a year or two. Then I developed sinus issues. I had my first surgery on my nose in 2005 and another one around 2008. I had a few dozen polyps removed from my sinuses. After my second sinus surgery, that’s when I had a really tough time. Around 2010, I went back to the firehouse, but I kept getting sick, ending up in the hospital a couple times. Eventually, a doctor asked me what I was doing, and that’s when I initiated my retirement process. Around 2011 or 2012, I started noticing neurological issues. I was a hockey player and I started to notice that five minutes into skating, I couldn’t feel my feet anymore. I couldn’t feel my hands when I’d shoot the puck. I figured I was just getting old but looking back, I was only 29. I started noticing numbness and pain, which I now know was neuropathy. Now, that’s my biggest issue from 9/11 - neuropathy and autoimmune issues. Neuropathy isn’t recognized right now under the bill, even though there are tens of thousands of people with the same symptoms as me. There are studies going on, but it will likely take a long time to be covered.

Why is it important to share your story - and others' - with the generation that's growing up with no memory of September 11th?
First, it’s important they learn about it because it could happen again. It’s important for people at a young age to learn that life can change in an instant; an ordinary day can turn into hell. 9/11 was big in our country, but it happens every day around the world. The world is a tough place.

Anything else you'd like to add?
I use my podcast, The Firefighters, as an avenue to talk about these things. I was 33 when I retired and, in my mind, I wasn’t done. I wasn’t ready to retire. Coupled with my anger from my sickness not being recognized, I started writing online. I met John Feal [retired construction worker and activist] and Ray Pfeifer and got involved with them and advocacy. In the end, I felt like I ended up where I belonged. This was a way for me to do my 20 years on the job, I continued to serve in the only way I could.

Compiled by Caitlyn Best, Government and Community Affairs Coordinator

See Also: 
New York Daily News

Next Monday, on May 30, we'll mark the 20th anniversary of the formal end to rescue and recovery efforts at Ground Zero. With one more week to go ahead of this milestone, we're sharing the stories of rescue, recovery, and relief workers in recognition of their tireless efforts, sacrifice, and spirit.  

The following Q&A features Salvatore (Sal) Annerino, who, on 9/11, was a district superintendent with the New York City Department of Sanitation. 

Where were you on 9/11? 
That morning, I was at work on 215th and Broadway in the Bronx. I was a district superintendent for New York City Department of Sanitation. I remember hearing someone scream, and we all ran to watch the TV. From our location, we could see the buildings smoking. We saw a plane pass us overhead, which we now believe was the second plane. As soon as we saw multiple planes hitting in different places, we knew it was a terrorist attack.