Remembering September 11, 2001
Just like everyone else, I can remember exactly were I was on that fateful morning.
I was traveling down the Garden State Parkway on my way to work at a small company in Little Silver, NJ. It was an absolutely beautiful morning, and as usual I was running a little late for work.
And just like every morning, I was listening to the local hip-hop station - the Star and Buckwild morning show w/Miss Jones (I know, I know they were terrible...but it was something to pass away the time during my 40 minute commute). They were carrying on with their typical nonsense when all of the sudden there was stunned silence and the realization that something was terribly wrong.
A plane had hit one of the towers of the World Trade Center...they thought.
Huh? Is this a joke?
Immediately I hit the tuner trying to quickly get to the local NPR station. Half of the local stations were unavailable. Just staticky silence. What the heck was going on?
I felt myself speeding up and trying to quickly round out the last 10 minutes of my commute. I needed to get to work. I needed to get to a computer. A TV. Something.
By the time I pulled into parking lot, a second plane had hit the other tower. I ran into my office and the first thing that greeted me was 7 pairs of eyes staring wildly at me as I burst into the office. My co-workers. What the hell was going on? They were crowded around a radio and trying to decide if this was real.
The next few minutes went by in a fog. Chaos, slow news, inaccurate news. Disbelief. 8 planes missing. 4 planes missing. We aren't sure how many planes are hijacked. We are under attack. My poor co-workers. Bhagya's husband worked on the 95th floor and he wasn't answering his cell phone. She had just announced that she was pregnant. Mikhail's father was a building engineer for the WTC. He wasn't answering either. Edwina's pregnant sister-in-law and her brother-in-law both worked for the same company...on the 97th floor of one of the towers.
There was no management in our office. They had all flown out the day or week before. One I had practically shoved out the door on Monday, September 10 for a flight out of Newark airport due for Seattle, WA. I didn't want him to miss his flight. Dear God what if he had been on one of those flights? Seattle, Amsterdam, Shenzen, Atlanta. They were all grounded. What should we do? Go home or stay and wait. Wait for what?
Then towers fell one by one.
We couldn't believe it. Elena and I just couldn't stand it. We had to see for ourselves. We got in the car and drove 15 minutes to the shore in Sea Girt. We walked to the highpoint, looked north, and saw one of the most horrifying things I ever hope to see. A big gaping hole where the towers used to stand...and terrifying line of smoke in the sky.
I watched that smoke float over my apartment for days. And that God-awful smell.
We went back to work, but no work got done that day.
I tried to call home, but the lines were jammed. I wanted to tell mom that I hadn't gone to NY that day. I had been there just over the weekend. I called everyone I knew that worked in NY.
Chris, Karen, Myron...I am so glad you all were alright.
Bhagya's husband was late for work that day...stuck at the Path station in Jersey City. He called his office after the first plane hit. A co-worker told him "I don't know what's going on here, but it's pretty scary." That's the last conversation we believe he had. No one made it down off of that floor.
Mikhail's dad finally called. He was fine, thank goodness.
Edwina never saw her husband's brother or sister-in-law again. They perished along with their unborn child. I remember their wedding photos placed on a sidewalk memorial weeks later. So sad.
I remember leaving work that day. I stopped for stamps at the post office. It seemed so surreal that any business would actually still be open that day, but there it was. No one spoke above a whisper for the rest of the day. I remember everyone's headlights turned on during my commute home.
In the weeks to follow, American flags were posted on practically every car in the state. For a minute, I felt like a was a real African American. United in sorrow. For a little while, people were kind to one another.
That night, me, Richard and his co-worker who was stranded and unable to get back into Brooklyn had dinner at Old Man Rafferty's in New Brunswick. The place was packed. No one wanted to cook. We were weary. We just wanted to eat something, drink, and watch the news. Richard is a true friend indeed. Always there. I love him dearly.
I remember everyone rushed to donate money to the Red Cross...and water, and medical supplies. The next day, everyone was ready to volunteer, to patch, to dig, to mend. They were ready, but for the most part, there was no one to be ready for. Most were dead and gone. The speculation of cell phone calls and people trapped in subway tunnels and air pockets turned out to be a huge disappointment. They were simply gone. We all went to church during our lunch hour for the national day of prayer. We sought and received comfort from strangers.
For days, we watched as cars sat at the train stations unretrieved by their dead owners. Children waited for parents that never came to pick them up.
A few days later, there was a terrible thunderstorm. The sounds of the thunder was almost too much to bear. Something so natural suddenly seemed cruel and frightening beyond belief. After days of hushed voices and meeting the eyes of strangers with a mixture of sadness and bewilderment, the loud thunder seemed like torture.
I wondered when the day would come when regular tv and radio programming would return...and when that line of smoke in the sky would finally go away for good.
One by one, 7 of the 17 women in our office got pregnant. I was one of them. What is it about a tragedy that makes people want to get busy living? Or just get busy? Heh.
We tried to forget. We kept going.
I can't forget. It made me so incredibly sad.
I've been back to ground zero twice since that day. That big gaping hole. I don't know why, but the ground seems to whisper. A low howl almost. Perhaps it's my imagination, but there are definitely strange noises around there. I hesitate to visit a structure built on that site.
Looking back on that day is still very emotional for me. I'm in no hurry to see any docudramas or reinactments of that day. It's still pretty fresh for me and something that I'm in no hurry to revisit with any frequency.
There haven't been many days in my life that have left an indellible mark on my heart and mind, but I can say without hesitation I will always remember Tuesday, September 11, 2001.
I was traveling down the Garden State Parkway on my way to work at a small company in Little Silver, NJ. It was an absolutely beautiful morning, and as usual I was running a little late for work.
And just like every morning, I was listening to the local hip-hop station - the Star and Buckwild morning show w/Miss Jones (I know, I know they were terrible...but it was something to pass away the time during my 40 minute commute). They were carrying on with their typical nonsense when all of the sudden there was stunned silence and the realization that something was terribly wrong.
A plane had hit one of the towers of the World Trade Center...they thought.
Huh? Is this a joke?
Immediately I hit the tuner trying to quickly get to the local NPR station. Half of the local stations were unavailable. Just staticky silence. What the heck was going on?
I felt myself speeding up and trying to quickly round out the last 10 minutes of my commute. I needed to get to work. I needed to get to a computer. A TV. Something.
By the time I pulled into parking lot, a second plane had hit the other tower. I ran into my office and the first thing that greeted me was 7 pairs of eyes staring wildly at me as I burst into the office. My co-workers. What the hell was going on? They were crowded around a radio and trying to decide if this was real.
The next few minutes went by in a fog. Chaos, slow news, inaccurate news. Disbelief. 8 planes missing. 4 planes missing. We aren't sure how many planes are hijacked. We are under attack. My poor co-workers. Bhagya's husband worked on the 95th floor and he wasn't answering his cell phone. She had just announced that she was pregnant. Mikhail's father was a building engineer for the WTC. He wasn't answering either. Edwina's pregnant sister-in-law and her brother-in-law both worked for the same company...on the 97th floor of one of the towers.
There was no management in our office. They had all flown out the day or week before. One I had practically shoved out the door on Monday, September 10 for a flight out of Newark airport due for Seattle, WA. I didn't want him to miss his flight. Dear God what if he had been on one of those flights? Seattle, Amsterdam, Shenzen, Atlanta. They were all grounded. What should we do? Go home or stay and wait. Wait for what?
Then towers fell one by one.
We couldn't believe it. Elena and I just couldn't stand it. We had to see for ourselves. We got in the car and drove 15 minutes to the shore in Sea Girt. We walked to the highpoint, looked north, and saw one of the most horrifying things I ever hope to see. A big gaping hole where the towers used to stand...and terrifying line of smoke in the sky.
I watched that smoke float over my apartment for days. And that God-awful smell.
We went back to work, but no work got done that day.
I tried to call home, but the lines were jammed. I wanted to tell mom that I hadn't gone to NY that day. I had been there just over the weekend. I called everyone I knew that worked in NY.
Chris, Karen, Myron...I am so glad you all were alright.
Bhagya's husband was late for work that day...stuck at the Path station in Jersey City. He called his office after the first plane hit. A co-worker told him "I don't know what's going on here, but it's pretty scary." That's the last conversation we believe he had. No one made it down off of that floor.
Mikhail's dad finally called. He was fine, thank goodness.
Edwina never saw her husband's brother or sister-in-law again. They perished along with their unborn child. I remember their wedding photos placed on a sidewalk memorial weeks later. So sad.
I remember leaving work that day. I stopped for stamps at the post office. It seemed so surreal that any business would actually still be open that day, but there it was. No one spoke above a whisper for the rest of the day. I remember everyone's headlights turned on during my commute home.
In the weeks to follow, American flags were posted on practically every car in the state. For a minute, I felt like a was a real African American. United in sorrow. For a little while, people were kind to one another.
That night, me, Richard and his co-worker who was stranded and unable to get back into Brooklyn had dinner at Old Man Rafferty's in New Brunswick. The place was packed. No one wanted to cook. We were weary. We just wanted to eat something, drink, and watch the news. Richard is a true friend indeed. Always there. I love him dearly.
I remember everyone rushed to donate money to the Red Cross...and water, and medical supplies. The next day, everyone was ready to volunteer, to patch, to dig, to mend. They were ready, but for the most part, there was no one to be ready for. Most were dead and gone. The speculation of cell phone calls and people trapped in subway tunnels and air pockets turned out to be a huge disappointment. They were simply gone. We all went to church during our lunch hour for the national day of prayer. We sought and received comfort from strangers.
For days, we watched as cars sat at the train stations unretrieved by their dead owners. Children waited for parents that never came to pick them up.
A few days later, there was a terrible thunderstorm. The sounds of the thunder was almost too much to bear. Something so natural suddenly seemed cruel and frightening beyond belief. After days of hushed voices and meeting the eyes of strangers with a mixture of sadness and bewilderment, the loud thunder seemed like torture.
I wondered when the day would come when regular tv and radio programming would return...and when that line of smoke in the sky would finally go away for good.
One by one, 7 of the 17 women in our office got pregnant. I was one of them. What is it about a tragedy that makes people want to get busy living? Or just get busy? Heh.
We tried to forget. We kept going.
I can't forget. It made me so incredibly sad.
I've been back to ground zero twice since that day. That big gaping hole. I don't know why, but the ground seems to whisper. A low howl almost. Perhaps it's my imagination, but there are definitely strange noises around there. I hesitate to visit a structure built on that site.
Looking back on that day is still very emotional for me. I'm in no hurry to see any docudramas or reinactments of that day. It's still pretty fresh for me and something that I'm in no hurry to revisit with any frequency.
There haven't been many days in my life that have left an indellible mark on my heart and mind, but I can say without hesitation I will always remember Tuesday, September 11, 2001.