Recent events have me thinking of home. I was born and raised in NYC and I’m so proud to be a New Yorker. Brooklyn molded my foundation in order to become the person I am today. I will never forget where I cam from.
I’ll try not to get too sappy but I was fortunate enough to not be directly affected by 9/11… meaning I didn’t know anyone personally that was hurt or died. I remember waking up for my morning class during my sophomore year at Penn State, turned on the TV only to find my hometown in terror. I remember thinking… “Wow! That’s insane!!” Then I quickly remembered that my cousin worked in one of the World Trade Center buildings. I quickly ran to the phone to call my aunt to find out if my cousin (the big sister I never had) was OK. The phone lines were completely jammed so I couldn’t get through. A few hours later, once I got to campus, I tried again… and I got through. My aunt told me that my cousin was OK…. thank God! I quickly ran to class and I remember my professor telling us to settle down and focus on the day’s lecture. I remember thinking “How could he act like nothing is going on?!” Then he said “Continue to act normal because when you let this interrupt your everyday life is when you really let them terrorize us.” Interesting.
My father was a first responder to 9/11. Not a lot of people know that. He was there. And I wasn’t. I was 7 hours away, in school at WVU. I couldn’t reach him on the phone for several days and didn’t know what to do. I would be lying if I said the events of that day and my fathers involvement wasn’t a factor in me deciding to join the NYPD. I thought about joining the army, the marines, some defense force. However, it was my love of New York City, my hometown, that ultimately drew me into Police work.