Remembering 15 Years Ago

As I reflect on 9/11/01, so many memories and feelings well up: Living in New York City, having worked on the 68th floor of Tower 2 from January to May of 2001, and by coincidence NOT working in the neighborhood of the World Trade Center that day – where I had been on September 10th and was scheduled to be on the 12th through the 14th. It was overwhelmingly close to home that day. For me, for all of New York City. Perhaps for all of the U.S.

Gratitude to the first responders. Fear for their safety and immense sadness for the losses. Horror for the people I knew in the World Trade Center – from folks in retail shops to Windows on the World – and for the people I didn’t know. But with whom I shared a great deal: New Yorkers; Americans of all races religions, ethnicities, backgrounds; Visitors admiring the wonderful city; People who collectively and individually felt violated, scared, stunned and shocked… Taking for granted our safety and security, until that day.

I remember changing the channel on the TV again and again, hoping to see another view, another story, anything to disprove or dispel this waking nightmare on a gorgeous September morning.

And the telephones… not working, working intermittently, overloaded, Circuits busy…. Hoping to get through to friends and family. To tell them I was okay. To find out if they were okay.

And meeting with friends, just to be together. No one had anything intelligent or coherent to say… we just sat together, ate and drank. We wondered what would happen next. How many had died. We thought of the children in the nearby schools – and schools throughout the city and the nation, the parents, the relatives… those who leapt from the buildings, those who didn’t.

Then the drills shutting down the streets around the Empire State Building and other landmarks for weeks after… Needing ID with address to go south of 14th Street…

I remember the outpouring of love that followed – of New Yorkers taking care of one another, of people from other places coming here to help us, or sending love and good wishes.

The immediacy, the intimacy of that moment in time is still clear in my mind. I still have my access badge from my office in Tower 2… It’s a treasured memento. 

I remember going downtown for the first time, weeks later, coming up out of the subway stop and experiencing nausea and vertigo from looking up to where there were supposed to be towers – buildings in which I had worked and spent time – and seeing only empty blue skies with clouds.

I remember the smell that lingered for months after… a smell like no other. Burnt metal, burnt rubber, burnt flesh… I don’t know. It was horrible, and toxic, and everywhere.

I’m sure there are also many things I can’t remember just now.

I can say with certainty that New York is different since then. And I’m different since then. Life is precious, and we are all here to take care of one another. That is very clear.

Here’s to the heroes, the workers, the visitors, the passengers on the planes. Those we lost – whose memories we hold – and the survivors.

I don’t want to have these memories. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to have it never have been. But we have a responsibility to everyone involved to keep these memories alive and to share the story with others.