I was resting in my apartment on a Saturday after having arrived back home from a horrible experience at a "rehab" center. Here's some background: Last Sunday, I had fractured a part of my femur very near the hip socket, had surgery to repair it Monday, and was discharged from the hospital on Thursday (I was treated, fed, and cared for quite well at the former Astoria General Hospital, now part of Mt. Sinai, Queens). So, I was away for six days, and my neighbor, Rich, took care of the cats. When I returned, I noticed a weird stench in the apartment, but couldn't quite identify it. It wasn't the cats, tho'.
I mentioned this to Rich, who was in my apartment helping me. He replied that he had noticed it too, and that it was especially strong right in the area of my front door, where there are two other apartment entrances. Immediately, I was struck dumb with the knowledge of what was coming from my neighbor's door, an apartment next to my bedroom: My neighbor was dead... and had been so for a while. I — and then my neighbors at the other end of the hall — called 911, and after a couple of hours the police came to check it out.
Not long into the New Year of 2015, that neighbor, Gary Kaufman, had called 911 with a health emergency, but EMS and police were unable to enter the apartment and Gary did not come to the door. The superintendent of our building didn't have copies of the keys and (with good reason) didn't think our management would appreciate the door being broken down. The super was asked to peek through an outside window of Gary's apartment off of the fire escape to observe if he was there. However, he could not see Gary in the apartment (or, rather, in the bedroom of his apartment), so the police and the EMS emergency medical technicians came to a decision to leave — which they may do at their discretion and which, I think, could be considered a reasonable action at that time.
Not long after that, I had my six days away as a result of my accident. During my time away however, Rich and I turned out to be not the only ones who noticed the stench that I observed on my return — a stench similar to the smell emanating from a dead mouse, a smell that I had experienced a few times not too long ago in my apartment (partly in thanks to my curious, playful, and rather deadly cats).
But this was no dead mouse, or pile of dead mice. On this second visit, the officer who rings my doorbell knows what several-day-old rotting human flesh smells like. Later, a Sargent arrived and asked if they could go through my bedroom window to enter the apartment from an outside window. This time, I quenched my fear of cats escaping (thankfully, both cats are still with me), and I allowed the super, the super-on-duty, the Sargent, and an officer to use my window to access the fire escape and enter Gary's apartment. A few minutes later, I received word that Gary was, indeed, very dead.
Rich and I later identified his face by a photo that the Coroner's Office crime-scene technician took; even though badly decomposed, I could identify enough of Gary's features to testify in writing that it was he. The Coroner's Office tech mentioned to me that Gary may have had a bad fall, and also mentioned that there was evidence of a table and other items having been broken as a result.
It's going to be a breezy night in my apartment. I have two windows wide open to clear the smell. I will have to keep them open until the security seals placed by NYPD are taken away and the windows next door can be opened to air out the place. Fortunately, the heat is going gangbusters, so I have heat at my feet in bed, and the riser in the bathroom plus the living room radiator will keep the rest of the apartment liveable. But the stench has thoroughly permeated much of the building's structure. In spite of fans, windows, and deodorant spray, it is still noticeable, and later in the year from time to time it will probably seep through the walls, especially on damp days. I hope it will remind tenants and visitors of both the folly and the triumph of human nature.
I very much wish I could have done more for Gary, but he was a very troubled survivor of 9/11, beyond my ability to comfort. I think the last time I talked with him he said he had cancer; if true, we still probably won't know if it at least had a direct physical/medical link to environmental conditions on 9/11. Although Issac, his brother, was unaware of any serious medical illness that Gary may have had, he confirmed that Gary did have a history of mental disorder and disease and mentioned that it existed in rather less severity before 9/11. Gary had already told me that he had been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, among other things.
But during the first police/EMT visit, mentioning these things probably didn't help get him aid. Management of my building was more interested in saving a door than in saving a life. I know from personal experience that the owner and the management of my building are more interested in appearances than fixing the hole in my bathroom ceiling, among many other defects in several tenants' apartments. Maybe it could be said that greed got the better of Gary Kaufman both in life and in death. After all, his company "outsourced" its internet technology jobs overseas, and this occurred during the economic depression of the early 2000s. For many years, these two things put Gary at a great disadvantage when trying to find work in his field.
But maybe Gary gets the "last word" after all — all of this does not keep him from being a hero. Please don't be turned off by my use of this word, "hero" — I assure you that I use it sincerely. The following was recalled to me by Issac, his brother, and paraphrased by me below, during what he thinks is the only time that Gary told the whole story of his experience on 9/11 to any friend or family member. I am very grateful to Issac for sharing it with me:
Gary noticed paper flying around outside his window at work on the 80th floor. To him, it seemed to be more than one might expect of, let's say, a disgruntled coworker tossing stuff out a window (rather hard to do through those narrow WTC-tower windows). Not long after noticing that, he felt an impact and the swaying of the tower. He came down the stairs amid a toxic shower of sheet rock and other debris and met a coworker at the entrance to the building.
Gary's coworker at Morgan Stanley's offices in 2 World Trade Center — who also happens to be a neighbor of Issac and family on Staten Island — was going to go back into the South Tower of the World Trade Center after an "all clear" was sounded on the alarm system. Gary convinced his coworker not to do so, and the two of them started away, then quickly rushed away from the collapsing building. It turned out that the two of them were among the last few who made it out alive from the first tower to fall that day.
If not for Gary's prodding, there would have been one less survivor that horrible day.
On the anniversary of 9/11, we always remember those who died that day in 2001. Many of us who live in and around New York City know someone who died either in the event itself or later as a consequence of that tragedy. I add one more person to my list today — a short but now even more meaningful list.
Gary's action on that day was a seemingly simple and small, yet profound act of loving kindness that is well worth remembering. Maybe, just maybe, recounting it will make the existence that we inhabit in this life a little more tolerable. It could rend our hearts just enough to let the light of Grace enter in and enable us also to do good. I hope this is not the only reason that we remember a somewhat shy, very intelligent, and humble human being. I hope that his brother and relatives and friends will remember all of Gary. Personally, I will strive so to do. It's the right thing to do.
Although the coroner may do some additional investigation, his brother hopes that, in accordance with his family's orthodox Jewish tradition, Gary will be buried tomorrow, Sunday January 25, 2015. May he be remembered for a blessing. May memory of his acts rend our hearts to use our intelligence and enable us to be kind, loving, humble, and giving, buoyed by the boundless grace of The Eternal One.
Rest in peace, Gary Kaufman, where there is no sorrow nor pain — but life eternal.
