Remembering September 11th

I remember it like it was yesterday.

It was a beautiful, fall morning in New York City. I had polished off my egg and cheese sandwich from the corner bodega after walking cross-town to the Met Life building, and unlike the humid days of August that found me needing to switch shirts by the time I arrived at the office, there was zero humidity.

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After two career changes, at the age of 27, I was working at Dreyfus as a financial advisor. I had made it through the grueling training phase and passed my Series 7, 55, and 63. My nine-month training sentence of commuting 2 ? hour each way to Uniondale, Long Island was over. Now was my time; I had finally arrived. I was a month into this new career, and I was ready to make my mark in financial sales.

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It was before the market opened, and the office was in a buzz like any other normal Tuesday. The office was popping, and my colleagues and I were ready to make that dollar. As some of us looked over lead lists, one guy was the early bird, already hitting the phones; it was no surprise he was always the #1 guy in the office, and I was thankful he was my mentor. Along with the stock tickers, we saw some breaking news on the TV: a plane had flown into the World Trade Center. My first thought was, “What a terrible accident.”

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My best friend called me up and we started talking it over. “You don’t think it’s possible that somebody did that on purpose, do you?” he said. He was always a little more street-smart than me.

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“What an awful thing to say - how could you even think that?” I shot back.

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We continued to chat, keeping one eye on the TV.

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Then we saw it live: the second plane flew into the second tower. Immediately I knew he was right. I’ll never forget the sense of shell-shock in the office. Guys stood up and crowded around the TV. My mentor continued to block it out and pound the phones while the rest of us tried to make sense of what happened.?Who would do this? How could it happen? Five minutes later, we got an announcement saying that the building was going to be evacuated. Like zombies, we filed out of the building and made our way to the rendezvous point at Bryant Park, following the instructions. I remember looking down 5th?Avenue and seeing the wall of smoke forty blocks away that seemed to be moving closer. After a quick meeting, we were informed that we were dismissed for the day. Now at 6th?Avenue, continuing to look at the smoke, I had a simple thought: get out of New York City as quickly as possible. I hopped on the next bus heading west toward the water. Strangers were sharing all kinds of rumors.

“I heard there are seven more planes taken hostage,” one woman said.

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“I heard Times Square is a top target,” another man said with impeccable timing as we sat in gridlock in Times Square.

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Every two minutes I opened my Motorola flip-phone and attempted to make a call. 10, 20, 50, 100 times later, each response was the same: “All circuits are busy – please try again later.” ?My 87-year-old grandmother could have walked faster than our bus, stopping at every single stop every single light as it inched towards the water. By 9th?avenue, I couldn’t take it anymore, and got back on foot.

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Minutes later I got to 42nd and 12th?to the ferry. Somehow, within a half hour, I made it through the line and was able to hop on a ferry. Sure, it was headed to Weehawken which was a few miles from where I lived in Hoboken, but it really didn’t matter. I just knew it was the thing to do.

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As we began our short trek across the water, I heard the rumble and saw the giant cloud as passengers gasped: the first tower had gone down. Shortly after, I arrived in Weehawken. There were thousands of people there, all with similar looks: shocked, aimless, and confused, looking for loved ones and answers. In the midst of one of the most unforgettable days of my life, I also gained certainty that God exists and works in mysterious ways. Of the millions of people evacuating New York City, as I stepped off the last step and made my way to the sidewalk, no more than 20 feet across from me, there he was: my best friend that had been speaking to nearly an hour ago.

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I breathed a huge sigh of relief. His office at Citigroup was a mere 10 blocks from the World Trade Center, and I didn’t know if he was in danger being that close. We looked at each other, smiling in disbelief, and started our walk together towards Hoboken. We hopped in my car before driving to our childhood homes – the only place it made sense to go on a day such as this. As we continued to hear the news of the rest of the day, the gravity of what just happened continued to build. The safety, the security, the blissful ignorance that we lived in a free world had been completely shattered. Our mindset would be forever altered in terms of what could happen on American soil. Over the next few months, it was a delicate time. Each day we tried to move back towards whatever normal meant. One day there would be a new scare, such as bio-terrorism and the threat of anthrax being mailed. Other days there was talk of dirty-bombs – nuclear devices that could be easy to conceal and cause massive damage.

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Fortunately, amidst the fear, there was magic in the return of the formerly commonplace. The first night baseball came back, it suddenly had a new meaning. Something I taken for granted now had incredible significance. To enjoy a simple baseball game, to take a couple hours to forget or at least suspend the new reality we were living in was precious. It was heartbreaking the Yankees didn’t win the 2001 World Series against Diamondbacks – with multiple late-inning comebacks it was all lined up for a storybook ending that mirrored New York City’s comeback – but it was not to be, as the Game 7 loss would come to be known as the last night of the Yankee dynasty. Perhaps it was fitting - the ultimate bitter-sweet reminder that yes - life can and always will get better, but at the same time not everything is a storybook ending. Despite the lack of storybook ending in the World Series, I did get one enduring gift: greater gratitude for life. I’m so incredibly grateful for so many things. Living with the knowledge of what had happened also gave me the gift of recognizing what I DID have. It gave me the opportunity to hug my family a little bit tighter. It gave me the opportunity to share that extra laugh with friends and take that risk and get past my fear to go and talk to the pretty girl at the end of the bar. And it gave me the realization that life is precious - and we don’t have a forever timeline.

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At 27, it also made me think about what I really wanted to do with my life. Six months later, I took the leap to become an educator, which was one of the most rewarding, fulfilling choices I ever made in my life; it gave me fifteen incredible years in an amazing community, and opened new doors I never knew existed. This experience of September 11th?made me realize that even in the darkest of times, if you look for it, if you live life with purpose, there’s always a chance to find a gift if you look hard enough. On this day, 22 years later, I still am incredibly grateful for my life. My life is far from perfect, and there is a lot more I still want to do - but I’m grateful for the journey and the ups and downs that go with it. I know with my continued faith and effort, there will be progress in the future. As I look back on that day, I’m eternally grateful for those brave men and women who selfishly helped others during that terrible day. I’m grateful for those who did the work to rebuild downtown brick by brick. I’m grateful for the resilience of the people who may not have physically built back the city, but who rebuilt their careers and lives together by taking one step forward at a time.

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On this day, I consider myself to be lucky. Today, I pray for all those who lost someone dear on that day that they continue to find their own rays of light amongst the sadness.

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While I hope we never forget what happened that day, my sincere hope is simply this: that we appreciate what we do have, and we continue to focus on a building a better, brighter future in the greatest nation on Earth, taking that gratitude into today and every day. God Bless America!

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#gratitude #resilience #rebuild #progress #faith #hope #GodBlessAmerica #Forgeyourpath

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