Every February, we celebrate Uncle Richie’s birthday with a cupcake eating contest. Each Christmas eve, my mom buys our family matching Christmas pajamas “from Uncle Richie,” a tradition she and her siblings grew up with. At family parties, stories about Uncle Richie fill the room with laughter.
Richie Allen was a surfer, lifeguard, diver, brother, substitute teacher, friend, and one of the 343 firemen who lost his life on 9/11.
Growing up, “Uncle Richie” was a name I heard often. My mom, grandparents, aunts, and uncles spoke of him frequently, casually, and with intent. There was never any question of who Uncle Richie was, how he died, or how badly he was missed.
“We owed it to him to remember,” Judy Aiken, my mom and Uncle Richie’s sister said. Richie has stayed present because our family makes sure of it — his siblings, parents, and friends never treated him like a memory reserved for anniversaries. If a person, a place, or a story reminded someone of him, they shared it.
Gail Allen, his mother and my grandmother, describes Richie as a true friend and family man. He was the kind of person who went out of his way to make people feel included, to help people, and to be kind.
“He loved unconditionally, you know,” my grandma said. “He loved you no matter what, and I loved him unconditionally.”
But remembering all the great things about Richie isn’t always easy.
“It hurts when I think about what he has missed out on,” my mom said. Uncle Richie never met any of his nieces or nephews. He didn’t get to see four of his siblings get married.
“Whenever I think of Richie the most now, 25 years later, it’s when something really good happens, that I want to share with him, and I can’t,” my mom said. “It’s that moment when I realize he’s not here, and I would just love to share something with him.”
Richie was one of nearly 80 members of our Rockaway community that was killed on 9/11. After the attacks, Rockaway was overcome with sadness, but it also brought our community closer together.
“It was a unity that was so incredibly beautiful,” my mom said. “And that’s something that I’d want everyone to remember.”
In Rockaway, our community has ensured that those we lost will never be forgotten, whether it be through Tribute Park, traditions, events, memorials, and smaller acts.
For 20 years, my family hosted the Richie Allen Memorial Surf Classic, a youth surf competition, family beach day, and paddle out in memory of Richie. But it was also a day to teach the next generation about 9/11 and about all of the members of the community we lost.
And of course, the Richie Allen shirts, which you can find in every corner of Rockaway and beyond. Profit from the shirt sales went to a local family in need each year.
“Doing the surf contest and being able to help families that were going through a rough time in his name was something that helped me through the last 20 years,” my grandma said.
My grandma sees Richie in the butterflies that visit her garden flowers. My mom sees him in the pods of dolphins that pass by our beach. We all see him in the hundreds of “Richie Allen shirts” that people of all ages wear with pride. We see him in the ocean, the waves.
“I see him in all of you,” my grandma said.
I never met Uncle Richie. But I know what kind of brother he was because I watch my own brothers. I know his love for the ocean and the beach because I share it too. I know his kindness, his easiness, and his humor, because I see it in so much of our family. And I know what kind of Uncle he would be because I’m always reminded.
