Today

One thing I love about my family, is that I don't have to tell you what today is. I know it has been a while since I blogged (I looked, it was in April), so this will be one of my usual, long blogs. I did something today, and I wanted to share it with you. Maybe I can even talk April into sharing some of the photos she took today. Here we go...

Today I participated in this:

http://www.nashvillestairclimb.com/Home.html

I was part of a team from my Dept. doing this. It was incredibly tough, but much much easier than anything those guys went through that day. We were in full gear with airpacks (that is approximately 50+ lbs), and we are encouraged to carry a tool or hosepack (another 25 lbs) with us. For the record, on Sept. 11th, 2001, the members of the FDNY climbed up those stairs wearing their turnouts and air packs, and carrying tools, hose, water cans, and each man also carried a spare bottle. Little did they know they were climbing the stairs to heaven. Most reports from that day said that the crews would climb several floors, then have to rest, then climb some more. Other reports say that the highest anyone made it was up to around the 82nd or so floor. Bear in mind, climbing the stairs is the easy part, the hard work begins at the top.

I have been steeling myself up for the challenge. No matter how tough it got, I at least had the comfort of knowing that I will get to go home afterwards, and be with my wife, safe and sound.

I worked last night, and so did the other 4 guys I was with. We got up this morning and headed up to Nashville to participate. It was pretty cool at first, there was a ton of people there, all in some way, shape, or form involved with a fire department. We were all cutting up and having a good time.

When it was time for things to start, there were a few speeches given. The usual politicians were there, but it was still nice. A prayer was said, and then a moment of silence was observed. That moment was ended by a group playing amazing grace on the pipes and drums. That really hit hard. Everyone got a little misty eyed. I hate that song, but only because it is traditionally played at a FF funeral. April was standing there, holding my hand, and I could tell she was crying. As bad as I was torn up, I put on a smile and gave her a kiss.

Each of us was given a card with a photo, a name, and an assignment of a FF who died on 9/11. We were asked to wear it on a lanyard around our neck while we climbed. I did a little research when we got home on the gentleman I was honored to represent today, and found this:

[Quote]
James A. Giberson, Ladder 35



I‘m honoring James A. Giberson of Ladder 45. He was last seen entering Tower 2, 10 minutes before it collapsed. One of the more moving stories I’ve read about him was that for about a week after 9/11, a woman would stand outside of the firehouse just staring. One of the firefighters asked her if she was okay and she said that was looking for one of the firefighters. She didn’t know his name, but they exchanged hellos every morning. The firefighter showed her some pictures and she pointed to James’s picture and said that she always thought of him as her personal firefighter…

James A. Giberson like to get to the firehouse early, get his coffee, and drink the coffee while sitting in front of the firehouse watching the city get started on the day, often exchanging greetings with all that walked by.

He always wanted three daughters. He made sure his wife, the former Susan Nordgaard, knew it when they were dating in the early 1980s. The couple married in 1984, and by 1992, he had his wish — and they were his truest joys. The girls, 12-year-old Erika, 11-year-old Kari and 9-year old Sara, inherited their swimming prowess from both their parents, and Mr. Giberson always accompanied them as they swam competitively throughout the Tri-state area. He often missed golf or fishing outings with his buddies to spend the day swimming with his girls, or cheering them on at a meet. For Mr. Giberson, 43, nothing came before them, and all of his friends knew it.

The Huguenot resident observed his 20th anniversary with Ladder 35 in Manhattan on Sept. 5, only days before the Trade Center attacks. He was last seen entering Tower 2. It collapsed a short time later, and Mr. Giberson remains among the missing firefighters.

Mr. Giberson had spent the previous Saturday with his daughters at the Great Kills Swim Club, where he was on the board of directors. It was the last weekend the pool was open for the season, and Mrs. Giberson is especially grateful the girls spent that time with their father. “He was very involved in their swimming,” she said. “The girls’ swimming achievements brought him so much pride and joy.”

A novice golfer, Mr. Giberson played at several charity events, one for the last 10 years with his fellow firefighter, Michael Kotula, also of Ladder 35. Mr. Kotula played last with his friend on Mr. Giberson’s 20th anniversary. “He was a happy guy and he loved the game, but he wasn’t really good at it,” Mr. Kotula said of his friend. “His handicap was that his hands were so big, they almost took up the whole club. He had to get extra long grips. If he grabbed you with one hand, you weren’t getting away.”

“But what made him happiest was spending time with his girls,” he added.

Mr. Kotula also gave into his friend’s request to join him on a day of fishing this past summer. “I think is was the quiet and calm nature of fishing that he liked,” he said. “As opposed to the hustle and bustle of his other work.”

Mr. Kotula, who had worked with Mr. Giberson at Ladder 35 for the last 19 years, recently moved to the South Shore, where he was closer to his buddy. “Jimmy and I spent a lot of time together, especially the last few years. My kids are older, but we talked about certain situations he was starting to experience as the his girls grew up,” he said. Mr. Giberson was also a talented wallpaper hanger, something he did on the side, according to Mr. Kotula. “I tried to help him work on my home once and he told me the only way I could help him was to get out of his way,” he said. “He had the job done in a couple of hours.”

Mr. Kotula said Mr. Giberson probably helped most, if not all, of his firefighting brothers the same way, and never accepted a dime. “I tried to pay him once, but he just tore up the check,” Mr. Kotula said.

A lifelong Islander, Mr. Giberson was a dedicated athlete. He played for the Mid-Island Little League as a boy, and spent many years in the Staten Island Touch Tackle League — the way he met his wife. She had been dragged to a game by a friend, and met her future husband for the first time in an after-game celebration in the team’s sponsoring restaurant.

“The Fire Department was a great part of his life,” said Mrs. Giberson. “He never wanted to leave Ladder 35 or his friends there. He did talk about retiring, not unusual after 20 years of service, but I don’t think it would’ve been soon.” According to his wife, Mr. Giberson was also a great cook. His daughters loved his chicken parmagiana, but chicken cordon bleu was one of his specialties. “Nobody made it like him,” she said.

I found the following on a message board. It was written by his oldest daughter, Erika.

Wow dad its been 2 ½ years today 913 days I have not seen you, laughed with you, talked to you about the weirdest things. Within thse 913 days you have missed so much of my life…you would be so proud of me. It’s been so long.

I miss your big bear hugs.

Hobbies & Interests:
I know your still here
You’re the wind in my hair.
The smile on my face
The tears that I cry
I miss going to 6 flags and seeing how excited got just to be with me kari and sara on the craziest of roller coasters
But most of all I just miss you
I am so lost without you

RIP I love you
and miss you so much
[/quote]

I also learned that of the 11 members assigned to Ladder 35 that day, only 1 survived. I can not imagine what that must be like for him. His name is Kevin Shea, and if you google image search his name and Ladder 35, there is an incredible picture that will come up.

We were preparing to climb the stairs for the first time, and as we approached the doorway to the stairwell, lots of people were cheering and thanking us. One woman in particular made a point of thanking everyone individually. Then she would ask if were representing a particular FF. I regret that I can not remember his name. I thought it was a bit odd at first, but then I happened to notice that she had a lanyard with a photo as well, though it was much nicer than the ones we had. It was also taken by a 35mm camera at a funeral. It was a photo of the young man, surrounded by flowers, like they put next to a casket that cannot be left open. Looking at that photo, and then the woman, it had to be her son. I was crushed. I tried to say something to her, anything, to thank her for her sacrifice, but the lump in my throat would not let me. I cannot imagine how hard it must have been for her to stand there, calling out her son's name and hoping that a different young man would answer. I'm a little misty thinking about it again myself.

We entered the stairwell, and began the climb. It was hot, and I wound up taking some of my gear off. We completed all 3 trips to the 29th floor. Our final trip would end at the 22nd floor, and that was where all the families were waiting for us. Each time we neared that floor, loud cheering would begin and we would feel their energy. All throughout the stairwell were pictures made by small children, encouraging us and thanking us for what we do, and were doing. It was definitely a motivator to suck it up and keep moving. Guys were being forced to stop and rest left and right, and for a while I wasn't sure I could finish it, but I had a strong team, and they pushed me to continue. For the final 22 floors, I put my gear back on, and hoisted the hose pack. That added another 25 lbs to me, but the rest of my team had been taking turns carrying it, so I wanted my turn as well. I was spent, and another member wanted a crack at it too, so at the 11th floor, we switched back.

Overall, it was a pretty emotional day. I haven't been this tired, both physically and mentally, in a long time. Thanks for taking the time to read.