A New Yorker's Memories...September 11, 2001

September 11, 2001...My husband and I were staying at the Beekman Towers Hotel in midtown while our new apartment was being painted, carpeted and being made ready for us.  We had come in from our country house in the Berkshires the night before and were up and about getting ready to go to work.  The sunlight of a beautiful pre-fall day was shining into into our suite... and from our window we could see people hurrying into work at the UN, which was  just a few steps from our hotel.

                                                                          
 I was sipping my coffee just as the phone rang...of course, my daughter...I was sure it was going to be a conversation about her upcoming wedding... no, instead she was terribly upset and told me to put the news on TV. "Oh, Mommy, a plane just crashed into the World  Trade Center..." she cried.  I turned on the  TV just in time to see the second plane make it's deadly mission complete.

                                                                
 I felt the breath leave my body...this was most assuredly an attack.  My country!...My city!... under attack.  And suddenly...in a moment... an horrific and defining moment...America lost it's innocence and it's sense of security.
Newscasters were announcing an attack on the Pentagon...and a plane down, crashed, filled with heroes...Chaos....
My husband and I sat  in silent disbelief, mesmerized in front of the TV.  It felt like the air had been sucked from the room and intrinsically we knew that a way of life we had always enjoyed had come to an abrupt end.
The voices on the television were interrupted by the wailing of police sirens...scores of them. I ran to the window and saw an army of police cars beginning to surround the UN.  Thousands of people poured from the UN buildings onto the street as they began a silent parade up First Avenue...fleeing what could be the next target...fleeing in caftans and dashikis and business suits and bright summer dresses and  turbans.  Fleeing ...Terror was palpable throughout the city.  The sunlight was gone from the day and the black and toxic cloud that hung over the WTC seemed to blanket the entire city and enter the heart of every New Yorker ...indeed, of every American.

                                                                     
New Yorkers were asked to stay at home...to let the streets be available for rescuers and emergency vehicles.  An eerie silence descended over the city, pierced only by the screaming of sirens and the droning voices of TV  news reporters.  My family called each other many times all day long, seemingly to assure ourselves that while our world was suddenly falling apart, as a family we were intact,.

All day we watched from the window. All day we observed the fire trucks, ambulances, and emergency vehicles rushing to the site with red lights flashing and sirens crying out to make way...make way for the heroes...the policemen and firemen who with great heroism and selflessness stepped up to serve and protect in a way they could never have imagined.

                                                                 

                                                                     

                                                                                                                                             
At dinnertime we went downstairs and had dinner at a local restaurant.  Strangers seated at adjacent tables suddenly became friends as we all came together to discuss the day's events.  New Yorkers seem to do that...draw together in times of crisis.  We gathered over coffee and dessert and discussed how we could be of some help.  Someone suggested that we all donate some money to this restaurant so that they could offer free meals to the rescuers...a very small thing to do, but we were all so happy to have the opportunity to do anything at all.  My son and daughter-in-law, who were living in Brooklyn Heights, brought hot meals to their local fire station...a station that suffered unimaginable losses at Ground Zero. New Yorkers all through the city opened their homes, pockets and hearts in whatever way they were able to.

The next few days seemed surreal.  The burning stench emanated northward from Ground Zero and blanketed the city.  There was a sense of controlled panic.  People started to go about their business...but we were all changed...different...never to be the same.  Roads had roadblocks...cars and trucks were stopped at bridges and tunnels and inspected...traffic was a nightmare...huge trucks filled with sand sat in front of the UN and other strategic buildings...but New Yorkers moved forward...another day.

At the end of a week we decided to return to the Berkshire house for a few days.  On the way to the West Side Highway we passed an area where they had set up a station for people searching for survivors...Scores of posters with faces of the missing were displayed...hundreds and hundreds of people were gathered about... searching, hoping.  I saw such anguish in their faces...and suddenly their pain became my own and I found myself wiping tears from my cheeks.

And now, all these years later I still find myself weeping as I remember that time.  Never again could any New Yorker walk our beloved streets with the same abandon as we did before that day.  We look at the world quite differently and harbor resentments and anger never even thought of before.  Even the most nonchalant people I know have a second thought when boarding a plane...always searching  for possible terrorists...

But we are New Yorkers...Nooo Yawkahs, dammit!  From the ashes rise a Phoenix...a testament to our tenacity and strength.

I dedicate this to the memory of all those lost in New York, Washington D.C and in the plane crash.  Rest in peace...the world will never forget you.