OPINION
BY CONGRESSWOMAN KAT CAMMACK
Twenty-five years ago this morning, America watched the unthinkable unfold. 343 New York City firefighters went up the stairs of the World Trade Center so everybody else could come down. They did not come back.
I was 13 years old and living in Colorado. I remember the shock of that morning. I remember watching first responders run into danger while thousands of people fought to get out. That image has stayed with me ever since.
It never left a young man named Matt Harrison either. What he saw that day set the course of his life. He chose the fire service. Today he serves Gainesville Fire Rescue as a firefighter and paramedic, and he spent six years as a SWAT medic. I am proud to be his wife.
Life in a first responder family gives you a close view of service. The tones can go off at any hour. Dinner goes cold. The person you love walks out the door to meet a stranger on the worst day of that stranger’s life.
Then you wait.
Every family across North Central Florida with a firefighter, a deputy, a dispatcher, or an EMT at the table knows that wait. Their people run to wrecks on Interstate 75 and Interstate 10. They go into burning homes. They carry neighbors through hurricanes. They handle medical emergencies behind closed doors that nobody else will ever hear about. There is no applause at the end of a long shift. There is another call.
So this is a love letter. To every fire department in our twelve counties, from the big stations in Gainesville and Ocala to the volunteer companies that cover a hundred square miles with one engine. To the police departments and sheriff’s offices that stand with them on every scene. To the dispatchers who take the worst call of someone’s life and never get a headline. You are the reason our neighbors sleep at night. Thank you.
Gratitude comes easily on an anniversary. It has to carry into the other 364 days. In my office, that work starts with the equipment our first responders rely on.
Start with the gear. A firefighter should never have to choose between a working air pack and a working engine because a budget got tight. In Congress I voted for the Fire Grants and Safety Act, which extended the Assistance to Firefighters Grant program that pays for protective gear and equipment and the SAFER program that helps departments keep enough people on the truck.
This spring I introduced the First Responders’ Equipment Access Act to fix federal rules that get in the way of fire engines and emergency equipment reaching the departments that need them. When Washington argues about spending, I think about who is standing in an apparatus bay in a small county wearing turnout gear that was handed down twice.
Then there are the survivors.
September 11 did not stop killing people on September 11. The federal Victim Compensation Fund reports that deaths from 9/11-related health conditions have far surpassed the number of people killed in the attacks. More than 10,000 FDNY members are living with a certified 9/11-related physical health condition.
Some responders and survivors now call North Central Florida home. My district team works casework for people fighting serious illnesses while navigating federal paperwork. We help eligible constituents work with the World Trade Center Health Program and the September 11th Victim Compensation Fund. Our job is to make sure a federal form does not stand between them and the help available under the law.
Today I will climb the stairs at Ben Hill Griffin Stadium with the firefighters of Alachua County. Last year hundreds of first responders and neighbors climbed 2,071 steps in The Swamp for the people we lost. Then I will travel to Lake City and stand in the apparatus bay with the men and women who protect Columbia County. Most of them were kids on September 11, 2001. Some were not born yet. They chose this work anyway.
Twenty-five years later, they still run in. We still owe them. We honor the promise to never forget when we remember the fallen. We keep it when we take care of the ones still carrying the cost of that fateful day.
One day I will tell Auggie why her dad does what he does. I will start with the 343.
