My FDNY/Ladder 118 t-shirt is fading, it's torn, it's tattered. I hardly wear it any more. You see this shirt was given to me by a true American hero and I can't let it go. I know it's a piece of history, my history, our history. And as it fades, it saddens me. I notice that my receding memories of 9/11 seem to parallel the decline of Pete's t-shirt, and for this I feel guilty.
Pete Vega, Ladder 118, literally gave me this shirt, off his back. A group of us were vacationing on Block Island the summer of 2000. We were getting ready to go to the beach and I walked into Pete and Regan's room. I noticed he had on a long sleeve, navy blue, FDNY shirt complete with the Ladder 118 logo and the fire department's Maltese Cross. Figuring a lot of guys asked Pete for shirts, I never did. I knew firemen didn't make much money and I was sure giving away all those shirts could set you back a bit. Plus back then, it seemed kind of "girlie" to wear a FDNY shirt. Especially if you weren't really on the job. Most of the time it seemed the shirts were worn by wives or girlfriends kind of like an old hockey jersey. But this shirt was impressive, you know long sleeves and all. So without thinking I said, "Man that's a nice shirt Pete." Without blinking, he pulled it over his big head (Pete was known to have a big head) and tossed it across the room to me. "You want it Jimmy, it's yours."
Pete Vega, Ladder 118, literally gave me this shirt, off his back. A group of us were vacationing on Block Island the summer of 2000. We were getting ready to go to the beach and I walked into Pete and Regan's room. I noticed he had on a long sleeve, navy blue, FDNY shirt complete with the Ladder 118 logo and the fire department's Maltese Cross. Figuring a lot of guys asked Pete for shirts, I never did. I knew firemen didn't make much money and I was sure giving away all those shirts could set you back a bit. Plus back then, it seemed kind of "girlie" to wear a FDNY shirt. Especially if you weren't really on the job. Most of the time it seemed the shirts were worn by wives or girlfriends kind of like an old hockey jersey. But this shirt was impressive, you know long sleeves and all. So without thinking I said, "Man that's a nice shirt Pete." Without blinking, he pulled it over his big head (Pete was known to have a big head) and tossed it across the room to me. "You want it Jimmy, it's yours."
Wearing that shirt before 9/11, if someone came up to me on the beach and said, "Are you a fireman?" I'd lie, I'd say yes. It seemed kind of fun, pulling the wool over some unsuspecting rube's eyes. I'd use the terminology that I had picked up over the years living in an Irish neighborhood. "Sure I'm on the job. 118 truck. Been there since '85, almost got my 20 in." Kira, my wife, would get all flustered, looking back and forth nervously during the conversation. Embarrassed by my fibs. She would clearly break under questioning. After the conversation, as my straight man walked down the beach, I would always hear, "Why do you do that? You're not a firefighter." "No I'm not. But when I wear my Michigan t-shirt I also tell people I went to Michigan. It's just more fun. My life's just not that interesting I guess."
In our post 9/11 world, wearing my shirt in tribute to Pete and his 342 fallen comrades, when someone asks me if I am a fireman I say, "No." As you can imagine, it doesn't feel right to lie; to take credit for all that those men sacrificed. Instead, if the time is right, I use the
occasion to say, "No, this shirt was given to me by my friend Pete Vega, Ladder 118. His house is also known as Fire Under the Bridge. Ladder 118/Engine 205 is on Middagh Street, at the foot of the Brooklyn Bridge." I tell people to Google "Pete Vega" or Ladder 118 FDNY and they will find a wealth of stories about how brave he and the other guys from 118 truck were on that fateful Tuesday. I add that a number of survivors, in an article in the Daily News, talked about how they were... "Guided through the lobby of The Vista Hotel to safety by a bunch of really tall guys with the number 118 on their helmets." That was Pete and his crew, none of whom made it out alive. I might add how the Daily News showed a picture of 118 truck crossing the bridge as the towers burned. And how the paper featured Regan, his widow, in a series of articles as she shared her grief with the rest of New York and in doing so helped us all get through that national tragedy.Now, 9/11 is starting to feel like history. I know, we know, that at some point in the distant future, it's going to take it's place alongside Pearl Harbor Day. Eventually, 9/11 will be a sad day that fewer and fewer people really remember. How many of us really give pause on December 7th? In an effort to forestall that or to assuage my own guilt, I thought it might be nice to once again take a minute to remember Pete and some of the other heroes of this sad day from our not so distant past.
