By Scott Brinton
Tommy, who's now 22, is frequently asked what he'd do with his dad if he could have 15 minutes more with the man who today is revered as a national hero. Tommy never wavers: They'd play catch. His father served as his Little League coach for years, and as his biggest cheerleader when he played baseball for Calhoun High School.
Tommy, who recently bought a home in Bellmore, knows he will never get another chance to throw a ball with his dad. On Sept. 11, 2001, Ronnie Gies rushed into the World Trade Center as others ran from it. At the time, he was a New York City firefighter of 13 years, assigned to Squad 288 in Maspeth, Queens -- the city's elite special-operations unit that handles the worst-case catastrophes, including terrorist attacks.
Gies, a fire department lieutenant, died at age 43 while trying to save others. For months Tommy felt only pain. The man who meant the world to him was gone.
Tommy had dreamed of becoming a firefighter since he was a toddler. "I wanted to be a fireman since before I was old enough to really know what they did," he says. His father's death only steeled his determination to join the ranks of New York City's bravest.
Tommy signed up in November 2002. On May 25, 2004, he donned a city firefighter's blue uniform for the first time, and on his crisp, new shirt he pinned a silver badge with his father's number, 11524.
His mother, Carol, gushed with pride that day. Her oldest son was carrying on his late father's legacy. "I was amazed Tommy did what he did," she says. "I knew he would do it. He's wanted to be a fireman since he was 2 years old. When his father died, he talked about it even more."
Carol was convinced that her son would become a firefighter when, one day shortly after Ronnie's death, Tommy announced that he would not only join the fire department, but also graduate as valedictorian of his class at the Fire Academy.
Tommy's three months at the academy were grueling. Midway through, he was feeling the strain. He wondered to his mother whether he could earn the coveted valedictorian title. Carol remembers, "I said, 'Tommy, it's not about Daddy. It's about you.'"
A little over a month later, Tommy stood at a Fire Academy lectern, regaling his 169 classmates and their hundreds of family members and friends with stories about his dad. He was the academy's top student.
Tommy spoke about how, each day at the academy, he found a shiny penny. It was a sign, he believes, that his father was with him in spirit.
"His graduation was quite a day," Carol says. "His two brothers were beaming. It was bittersweet. His father would have loved to watch him that day."
Tommy says firefighting is "an awesome job. It really is. You do something you love. You help people. You get to be with a great group of guys who are in your firehouse."
Carol never worried about her husband, who joined the fire department at age 30 after working for Delta Airlines for a decade. The Kennedy High School graduate waited seven years for a slot in the Fire Academy. He almost gave up on his lifelong dream of becoming a firefighter. At the time, the Gieses' three children were young. The couple had taken out a loan to buy a new car. Because Ronnie wasn't allowed to hold a second job as a first-year firefighter, he had to give up his contracting business and take a $30,000 pay cut.
"He almost said we can't do this," Carol recalls. "I said, 'You're out of your mind. We'll struggle.' We made it work."
Carol, who celebrated her 20th wedding anniversary with her husband shortly before Sept. 11, says Ronnie "was special. He would give his shirt off his back to anybody. He had a heart of gold. He was a great teacher for our kids -- all kids. He provided for his family. He was a genuine person."
Carol now worries each day when her son heads to work at Ladder Company 147 in Flatbush, Brooklyn. When Tommy first approached her to say he would become a firefighter, she remembers, "Face to face, I supported him 100 percent. Then I went into my room and cried my eyes out. Eventually, I told him how I felt. I told him it's going to be very, very hard."
Carol fears for her son's life. On her husband's last day of work, he left at 7:30 a.m. After breakfast, he had always walked out the back door, where Carol gave him a kiss goodbye. On Sept. 11, she changed her habit, yelling from the front door to Ronnie how much she loved him. So, when Tommy lived at home during his first six months on the job, she would only kiss him from the back door. Now Tommy calls his mother constantly by cell phone to let her know how he is.
Ronnie Jr., the Gieses' middle child, plans to join the city fire department, as well. The third Gies boy, Bobby, is studying architecture at the New York Institute of Technology. The two older sons volunteer for the Merrick Fire Department's Friendship Engine and Hose Company, where Ronnie Sr. served and rose to chief of the Merrick Fire Department. Bobby will join the Friendship Company when he turns 18 in November.
After four years, the Gieses are starting to feel a mild sense of normalcy. The pain is less, though Carol notes that the family's psychic wounds will never entirely heal. "There's been so many tears shed," she says, "and the tears will never stop flowing."
On Friday, Carol and her three sons will take part in a White House ceremony honoring the 443 rescue workers who gave their lives at the twin towers. On Saturday, Carol will attend a quilt dedication ceremony at ground zero. And on Sunday, the Gieses will celebrate Ronnie Sr.'s remarkable life by hosting a block party for family, friends and neighbors on Lexington Avenue.
"He was my idol," Tommy says of his dad. "Any kid who'd want to get into the fire service, he'd be their idol."
Comments about this story? SBrinton@liherald.com or (516) 569-4000 ext. 203.
