Metro

Sifting through sorrow

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His FDNY helmet signified ‘the ultimate sacrifice’ Retired firefighter Lee Ielpi arrived 90 minutes after the South Tower fell to dig through the smoky pile in search of his son, Jonathan, 29, of Squad 288 in Queens. Three months later, he found Jonathan in a staircase in the South Tower. Two weeks later, recovery workers found his helmet and turnout coat. “It’s ripped right down the back, ripped right off him,” says his father. Jonathan Ielpi, a married father of two young sons, “loved the job, loved helping people,” says Lee. TEN YEARS LATER: THE POST REMEMBERS 9/11 COMPLETE 9/11 ANNIVERSARY COVERAGE

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His ring was ‘something he wore all the time — a piece of him' Mitchel Wallace, 34, ran to the World Trade Center when the first plane hit, despite a friend’s warning to flee. “I have to help,” he said. The court officer, also a trained EMT, knew he’d be needed. His family recovered parts of his uniform, but not a trace of his body. Five years later, his ring was found. Today his mom, Rita Wallace, displays it in a living-room cabinet with photos of Mitchel, who was single, and her grandkids. “I cannot tell you how much it means to us to have something of his back,” says his sister, Michele Miller. “Even though it’s an object, it’s something he wore all the time — a piece of him.”

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His wad of cash reflected a heroic 'ritual' “Being a firefighter was all he ever wanted,” says retired firefighter James Boyle, of his son, Michael Boyle, 37, of Engine Co. 33 in the East Village. Michael was near the lobby of the North Tower when it collapsed, killing him and pushing his body six stories underground. In June 2004, 2½ years after Michael’s remains were found, James got a call telling him $74 in cash had been recovered with Michael’s DNA on it. “It was remarkable,” says James. “I took it home and showed everybody.” The wad of bills — three $10s, four $5s and 24 singles — was a collection for the firehouse’s dinner that night. It was Michael’s turn to buy groceries and cook. “It’s part of the ritual of being a firefighter,” explains James. “They take it very seriously.”

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His phone card meant ‘Honey, I’m home’ Kenneth Basnicki, 48, had just been promoted to financial marketing director for BEA Systems, a Toronto software company, when he attended a conference at Windows on the World. As a successful salesman, he was often on the phone, but saved time for fun with his wife Maureen and their two kids. “Some days I would see him parked in the driveway. He would call and say, ‘I have to make a conference call, I’m still working,’ ” recalls Maureen. “A short time later, he’d come in and say, ‘Honey, I’m home.’ ” When the NYPD gave Maureen his burnt AT&T phone card, she says, “It was another way of my husband saying ‘Honey, I’m home.’ Another kind of home.”

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His watch clasp is a ‘treasured’ reminder of his love Michael Pascuma, 50, was a stockbroker who worked the floor of the American Stock Exchange. Every Tuesday morning, he met with partners at Windows on the World. When the plane struck, his eldest son, Michael, called his dad, who said he was “trying to find a way out.” “More than anything, he loved his [three] kids,” says his wife, Linda. Two days before 9/11, his son Michael crashed the family car, but Pascuma told him: “As long as you’re OK, don’t worry about the car.” Pascuma’s remains were found, as was the clasp of his Rolex Oyster watch, which a friend had bought him in Germany. Linda says she would gladly buy another Rolex for anyone who returned the watch so she can pass it along to her husband’s namesake. Meanwhile, they treasure the metal bit. Before bed each evening, Pascuma would carefully put his watch in its case in their nightstand. And that’s where Linda keeps the clasp today.

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Her prayer beads testified to her ‘great faith' Patricia Fagan, 55, worked as an insurance adjuster for Aon Corporation on the 93rd floor of the South Tower. She and her sister, Eileen, commuted together from their home in Toms River, NJ. On the bus, Pat, a devout Catholic, would pray on two sets of beads — rosary beads and St. Anthony beads. Whenever Pat misplaced something, she’d pray to St. Anthony, patron saint of lost and stolen articles. “She had this great faith that it was going to work,” says Eileen. “She would just pray continually.” Pat perished in the 9/11 attacks, and a memorial Mass was held that month. But in January 2003, Eileen received a letter from the NYPD revealing some recovered items from the WTC site. The letter listed a driver’s license, credit cards and cash — items Eileen knew had been in Pat’s purse. “I was going into New York saying, ‘Oh my God,’ I wonder if I can get her beads,” says Eileen. Sure enough, the entire purse had been recovered, including, poetically, the St. Anthony prayer beads.

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His watch recalled a 'happy time for him' Glenn Winuk, 40, was a partner at Holland & Knight, a law firm on Broadway a block from the World Trade Center, but he was also a volunteer firefighter and trained EMT from Jericho, LI. With a medic bag borrowed from an emergency crew, he ran into the South Tower to save lives. Winuk’s remains — his hands in surgical gloves — were found on March 20, 2002. Three years later, brother Jay Winuk got a call from the city medical examiner’s office about a watch that matched his family’s description. The watch had stopped on the 12th day of the month — perhaps Sept. 12 — at 12:55. “It gets your heart going knowing this is what he was wearing when he died,” says Winuk. Recovering that watch, bought by his brother on a trip to Las Vegas with buddies, was important, Jay explains, because “it represented a happy time for him.”

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His wallet contained a promise to 'spend more time' with his sons George Howard, 45, was off-duty on 9/11, but raced to the scene along with two fellow cops. They parked at the corner of Vesey and West streets. As they got out of the car, the South Tower started to fall. While running with the crowd, Howard stopped to help a stranger who had stumbled. His partners looked back and saw him disappear in the smoke. Howard, a 16-year Port Authority Police Department veteran from Hicksville, LI, was found at 3 p.m. that day, when an NYPD detective saw his holster sticking up through the rubble. In Howard’s wallet was a list of 20 things “to do.” Among them: take a sniper class, become a better swimmer and spend more time with his sons, Christopher and Robert. “That’s who he was,” says Christopher, 28, an FDNY firefighter. “When something happened, he had to go there and make sure things went right.” On a family vacation to the Grand Canyon, his dad pulled over to stay with an injured motorist until help arrived. He was off when the World Trade Center was bombed in 1993, and ran there, too, says his son. “He always told me, ‘Find a job you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life.’ ”

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His work ID represented ‘a fresh start’ In July 2001, after four years of unemployment, Robert Gschaar, 55, was hired as a commercial insurance underwriting specialist at Aon Corporation. Robert loved his new job. “He was the first to come and the last to leave,” says his wife Myrta. The job represented a new beginning, and the couple planned an Alaskan cruise. That dream was cut short when Robert died on 9/11. Three years later, police notified Myrta they had found Robert’s wallet, containing his Aon identification card. Myrta wasn’t ready. “I didn’t tell anybody,” she says. “I waited to see.” In mid-2005, she gathered her courage and went to claim it. “When I saw the badge [I thought], ‘He’s really gone. This is really happening,’ ” she says. She finally planned a memorial service in Nyack, NY.