Jeff Giordano

Ladder 3 is a modest firehouse that sits on the East Side of Greenwich Village. It’s a firehouse that reminds me of heritage fire stories that I had heard growing up. The red bricks and the American flag that hung from the second story gave me a feeling of pride not only for the fire service but for my country as well.

Over the next few days we spent a lot of time in the kitchen of Ladder 3 building friendships with some incredible people. There was a firefighter named Timmy that just moved into the engineer’s seat and was proud to drive us around in “his” truck. He was also a proud cook that insisted on cooking us meals and trying to feed us every chance he could get. Capt. Brown was the quiet one at the end of the table who told stories of rescues and fires from days gone by. There were the ones that made us laugh like Tim and Mike and Joseph. There are so many memories of so many wonderful guys. But then there is Jeff Giordano, a person who was incredibly caring and giving. He filled the time that we didn’t spend at the firehouse with behind-the-scene tours of the fire museum, the Fire Zone, and the burn unit at Cornell where his wife worked. He stuffed our arms with memorabilia from Ladder 3, the burn unit, and New York. He packed our hearts with memories of funny impersonations, hysterical stories, and crazy foosball games. Jeff left his thumbprint on our hearts.

On September 11 of that year, my heart was broken when I learned that so many of the guys we had grown to love and had formed friendships with had died.

Ladder 3 had the greatest loss of life for a house and Timmy, Capt. Brown, and Jeff were among the 12 that lost their lives.

Each time I meet someone new, each time I walk into another fire station, each time I looking into someone’s grieving eyes, I can’t help but remembering Jeff and thinking of 3.

Wendy Norris