Today, as part of Project 2,996, we remember firefighter Bruce Gary, 51, of Bellmore, New York, who served with Engine 40 and died in the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001. Bruce is survived by his three children: Jessica, Ricky and Tommy.
He was a selfless man with a record of heroism. After the first attack on the World Trade Center by Islamic extremists in 1993, Mayor Giuliani honored him for assisting in the rescue efforts.
Family and friends describe Bruce as a rock who devoted his life to others. When his older brother Ricky died in a motorcycle accident in 1970 after surviving two tours in Vietnam, "he was like the father of the family," in the way he carried on for his parents. In 2000, when his son was involved in a car accident that put him in the hospital for seven weeks, family members say you couldn't pry him away from his bedside.
After finishing his shift in Manhattan, Bruce would come back to Bellmore to work eight more hours as a plumber in order to make ends meet, then find time do draw up baseball rosters as Vice President of Bellmore's Little League, a position he'd held for 12 years. His sister, Donna Struzzieri, said that "Everything he did was with his children in mind."
Season after season he created good teams by focusing not on the all-stars but on the children other coaches would stick in right field and forget about. ''Every year there would be the really good kids, and some kids who weren't so good,'' said his son Tommy. ''But he worked more with those kids, and by the end of the season the team would be more equal.''
Clearly, Bruce was an inspiration to the people in his community. Louis Garcia Apa, a U.S. Marine, was a recruit in training at Parris Island when he told a reporter from Newsday earlier this year about why he signed up with the U.S. Marine Corps:
At the shooting range, where Marines learn to hit a target 500 yards away, recruit Louis Garcia Apa, 25, of Bellmore has weathered weeks of training, but it is a reporter's question about why he enlisted that struck a nerve.
"This recruit," Apa begins, following the Parris Island ban on the personal pronoun. He pauses. His voice cracks. "This recruit lost someone who was very close to him, a role model."
"It's something that stayed in my mind," he says. "It took this recruit a couple of years to get himself together before he could join."
Tears streaking his face, Apa explains that he worked in a law office and sold cell phones for Sprint before signing up. He pauses. "Sir," he asks an officer standing nearby. "Can I wipe my face?"
When his daughter Jessica's boyfriend proposed on Valentine's Day in 1999, Bruce had to be at the firehouse. Knowing of the plan, he left a card for her to open after the proposal. He wrote his daughter: "Letting go is not easy, and even though your hand may slip from mine, we will hold each other in our hearts forever."
As Jessica told Newsday in the days after 9/11, "He has been his family's hero their whole lives, and now he's a hero to the whole country."