My first memories are of driving around below Canal in our shop pick-up with a tank of diesel in the bed and filling up the generators on the site, by the boat basin and the heliport. From West Street over to the water the bushes were full of scraps of paper. My first thought was that we should look through the papers to see if there were really important ones that should be returned to someone. I must have been in shock because the tragedy was so much bigger than someone’s missing passport or legal papers. My father had died earlier that summer and he had been cremated and when we scattered his ashes some were in the air so I had a memory of what human ashes tasted like. The air near the Trade Center tasted like that.
Our auto shop by the Holland Tunnel was responsible for the Trade Center so we were tasked with supporting the Port Authority Police. They had a compound neat Warren and West Street. We towed cars, repaired flat tires, jump-started vehicles and refueled anything they needed. As automotive personnel, we had masks with very good filtration that we had been given to protect us from asbestos in vehicle brakes. Of course, the EPA did not come around to fit workers with protective masks until weeks later. The police and firefighters really suffered because of that bad decision.
Port Authority Police Officers and welders were among those on the site removing I-beams and other pieces of the Trade Center buildings. They were also sifting through the rubble searching for any human remains. When they found something they would stop to pray. At the end of this terrible project, the last I-beam was driven off the site. Andy Infante’s brother was given the honor. We all stood at attention as we watched him drive past.
Nowadays, I walk to my grandchildren’s school in Metuchen, NJ and walk home with them. As we pass by the train station, there is a memorial to New Jersey residents who perished that day. We look for my friend Jean Andrucki’s name on the wall and say a little prayer for her.
