WARNING: This is a VERY long post-almost a novella…
About this time last year, I wrote a post
about why I
hate September…and yet it keeps coming around for some reason, still trying
to be my friend.
I try, I really do try
to get over it, get past it but to me 9/11 is more than just an emergency
number or a date…and I suspect that it’s the same for most, if not all of us.
In the decade that has passed so much else has changed, also. The least of which is I’m ten years
older! How did THAT happen-especially
since that day so long ago seems to be frozen in memory even now. I’ve been essentially unemployed for the last
3 years and due to an extended illness have stopped even looking for the time
being. Since getting laid off at my
financial services job in February of 2002, I’ve never been able to find a
similar position-even though I’ve tried. I DO try to get into the City a few
times a year and just went the other day-right to what is now called Ground
Zero and saw the progress of what will someday be 1 World Trade Center. Admittedly, every time I go there and up the
very long escalator that once was IN Tower Two, I can’t help but think of that
day-and I wish I could escape. While on
the way to my final destination, it just so happened that a commercial plane
flew overhead and again, my heart pounded.
Silly stuff I know and you know too, if you’ve had to stand and get
practically undressed and poked and prodded and scanned in an airport.
All that being said, I have watched a few of the programs
that are currently rampant on Discovery and NatGeo, and think I’m using it to
anesthetize myself for all that is coming.
I’d like to say that tears no longer well up; that an airplane overhead
doesn’t cause me to look to see where it’s going and most of all that it would
just be another day. Ah well, maybe next year!
Many of you have asked me to share my 9/11 experience so I
will tell it today. Keep in mind that it
has been awhile and I do see things differently than at that time. Hindsight is 20/20.
As I’ve said in the past, I was working on the corner of
Broadway and Exchange Place, once short block and directly across the street
from the New York Stock Exchange.
Sometimes I took the PATH Train and sometimes I took the ferry-both
eventually got me a short 15 minute walk to the office. On that day, I took the ferry. It was an easy day, so I was in casual dress
and even my sneakers.
As I got off the ferry, at the foot of Wall Street (and
South Street) I couldn’t help but notice how incredibly blue the sky was. To
this day there is no better word than that it “sparkled” in the clarity. As I walked toward the office, around 8:45 AM, I hadn’t noticed anything,
or heard anything either and starting winding my way through a couple of back
streets toward the office via my “usual route”.
As I got to Hanover Square a LOT of ash started falling and I knew there
was a big fire somewhere. I was wearing
a white button-down shirt and another commuter and I ran under the eaves of the
nearest building. He shared a section of
his newspaper as we both decided to go for it and get to our respective offices. I got there about 5 minutes later and asked
my receptionist if she knew what was going on and we quickly tried to see what
we could see from our 10th floor windows. I got back to my desk, booted up and decided
to call my husband who works for CBS News to see if he knew anything. It was at that time that I learned that a plane
had run into the building… and as we were on the phone, the second plane
hit-9:02 AM.
Almost instantaneously, the announcement came to evacuate
the building and boy was I glad I wasn’t wearing heels that day! I was also glad that I was only on the 10th
Floor and going down instead of up! I
met my boss and other fellow employees downstairs and got the go ahead to try
and make the “last ferry” back home as we had all heard by now what had
happened and that officials wanted the area clear. Not sure to this day why I thought it, but I
was in a huge hurry to catch that “last ferry” that was due to leave at 9:30 for
my destination.
As I crossed Broadway it seemed the crowd was driving me
nearer and nearer to the WTC and that is NOT where I wanted to go. New Yorkers are notorious “looky-loos” and to
see this tallest landmark on fire was definitely an event. I eventually got up against a wall and made
my way to Wall Street and toward the ferry. ..Back-tracking my earlier
walk. As I came to Hanover Square, I saw
lots of debris and paper, and machinery and yes, sadly, human parts. I don’t know why but I picked up some of the
papers (and still have them) which were from Cantor Fitzgerald –a firm on the
105th floor. Also, a funny
thing, despite the impossibility of getting cell phone calls in or out, my
sister was able to get through and I stopped and let her know that I was ok,
going to get the ferry home and to tell my dad and kids that I was safe.
As I continued toward the ferry I stopped to try to get the
use of a pay phone to tell my husband what I was hoping to do and eventually
gave up. The crowds were starting to get
rude and anxious and violent and I just didn’t want any part of that. I was also still fearful that I would miss
that last ferry. As I made it to the
docks I realized that EVERYBODY was there that wanted to get off the island. Overhead, on the FDR it was a scene right out
of a horror film. I remember thinking of
the original Godzilla movie as Tokyo was evacuated. And then—the first tower fell and people were
running all over and I once again took refuge against the side of a building,
huddled with so many others. I couldn’t
believe it at first, when people told me what had happened. This was the first time I realized how afraid
I really was. I RAN the last couple of
blocks to get to the ferry terminal to try to find out how to get back home. By this time I also learned that taking a
ferry was the ONLY way to get out of Manhattan as all trains were stopped. I was blessed in that a ferry usually went
right to our waterfront development as well as to other New Jersey destinations
across from the city. The majority of
people were covered in the now infamous “tower dust” and most had that “deer in
headlights” look too. I’m sure I must
have as well. I hadn’t previously
noticed but my white shirt was now brown and had quite a few ashy burn
holes. I later learned that they’d been
there as a result of the initial falling ash – before I’d gotten to the office.
Soon I heard an announcement to my
destination but it would be awhile.
As boats came to the docks, they quickly filled up and left and
another would take its place. I can’t say how long I waited and then I saw
it. Roaring down Wall Street directly in
front of me, another huge cloud was coming-seemingly right at me. If you’ve ever seen video of a volcano
erupting and the ash roiling down …well that’s what it looked like. It was right then that I knew it could be “my
time to go home” and I just closed my eyes and prayed- Out loud and with a
multitude of others! As this monster
reached the floating dock me and 500 others were standing on, it rocked
ferociously and it was just plain too late to try and get to solid places. As it passed, and the dust was clearing (and
on its way to Brooklyn), we couldn’t see it but we heard a jet roar directly
overhead. I can smile at it now but have
you ever seen half of New York go to their knees in the “duck and cover”
position all at the same time?
Around 11:30 AM
I finally was able to board a ferry that would take me home. We have a small commercial area that includes
a deli/liquor store where I stopped and got three packs of smokes and two very
large cans of beer and I’m not even a casual drinker. What strikes me now is the blank, shocked
faces of all those who were around me. Covered in the dust of what used to be
the World Trade Center, it reminded me to of pictures I’d seen of those taken
when the concentration camps of WWII after liberation. We were now safe but what lies ahead? Is this really happening? Where are my loved
ones?... My friends and co-workers? After just hanging with Sammy, the deli
proprietor, for awhile, I made my way to our apartment. While the phone wouldn’t let me call out, I
was able to receive calls-and blessedly, I had the internet, though it was a
whole lot slower.
My beloved Scott was eventually able to contact me, as well
as my family. During that time, I took photos
from my balcony and first got to know my neighbor Anna. I often walked down to
the deli for coffee and stayed glued to the news, my heart breaking as the
reality of the devastation and loss of life tried to seep into my psyche -and
still not fully believing. Needless to
say, I didn’t sleep much, dozing on and off and switching between the news and “Saturday
Night Fever”, “Stayin’ Alive” playing over and over in my head.
Scott got home late on September 12th and I finally
let loose all the tears that I’d kept in.
I can’t fully remember what I said but I do remember just clinging to
him and thankful that I wasn’t alone anymore. I later learned that he’d had his
own time of panic and dread (via co-workers).
He knew where I might be when the towers fell and until he was able to
contact me, thought I might have been lost.
In the days that followed, a few things from then stick in my brain: a friend whose
husband worked at Cantor Fitzgerald asked us if we could go to Liberty State
Park to see if her husband might be there. Initially, a place had been set up
for survivors to be taken for care.
Unfortunately, just as the many hospitals were also preparing for
survivors, the services went unused. What do you say to someone who still has a
thread of hope that her husband survived when the news shows differently? To get away from the house, we decided to
drive to Hoboken a few days later just to be around others I think. While we
may not have said a word, we needed others; we needed to see life after this
horror.
One of my most striking remembrances is all the cars parked
along our main street to our development. It had rained a few days after and so
many of the same cars were still there. Dust and mud and grime covered them now
and I couldn’t help but wonder how many of those that had driven there to catch
the ferry would never return. A few
days after I also checked my phone and realized there was a new message-a call
from my son John (31 at the time) who had previously worked with me and knew my
daily routine…and had a few friends at the Commuter Bar where he stopped after
work. While I don’t have the message anymore, the fear in his voice at the time
of the call (9:15 am on 9/11) still brings tears at times.
I returned to work about two weeks later for one day. I was supposed to be on vacation and just had
to go back to check on co-workers. We had kept in touch as much as possible via
the net but there’s nothing like seeing them alive and well. There was so much dust and debris still
around. Cables laced the streets as did
a huge armed police and military presence.
And the smell permeated everything for months afterward.
Believe it or not, I actually flew out to Idaho for my
youngest sons’ wedding celebration two weeks later. I met my dad and son John in Salt Lake City. While there was definitely a security
presence, it was like being on a different planet. I really think that I was glad at the time. I
needed to run away I think and that’s pretty much what I did.
In the years since-I’ve tried to get over it, get past
it. For a time afterward I was really
angry with God. In Feb. 2002 I was laid
off and truth be told, haven’t had a really good job since. I still fear planes flying overhead and I
shudder at most any loud noise. While it has gotten better, I still tear up
whenever I see photos or video of the towers burning. I try to avoid them and at the same time still
force myself to watch to try and anesthetize myself in the hope that one day
September 11 will just be another day on the calendar. So far it hasn’t quite worked. Physically, the burn scars have almost faded,
though I still get rashes at times. I
was told that breathing the air down there may be why I wheeze so much-and even
after quitting smoking, it seems that when faced with this day I start up
again. STUPID! I try not to cry and to be strong, mostly for
those around me. In my family I AM the
strong one so maintaining that façade helps-sometimes.
My family will be here tomorrow (9/8) and we have plans to
go to the newly opened Memorial. I will
make a point of looking for the name of my friends’ husband and saying a prayer
for her and her little one. Of course I’ll take photos-and yes, I’m sure I’ll
cry. I’m not angry with God anymore
which is the best part of surviving. In the years since “that day” I’ve
actually drawn closer and regularly visit Trinity and St. Paul’s churches where
I used to go on my lunch hour to help out.
Best of all, I’ve learned more about forgiveness. ..But Lord please,
help me to never forget!
