Where Were You On 9/11?
Exactly 20 years ago. September 11, 2001. A day like no other. Ever.
Wherever you were, it's unlikely your memory has blurred.
Before I traveled as extensively as I do now, my favorite destination was always New York City. It offers everything I love as a creative. Central Park, the neighborhoods, museums, restaurants, fashion, shopping, and theater are all part of what makes me thrive there. Walking amidst the mosaic of people always gives me plenty to look at and admire one way or another. In 2001 I lived in Pennsylvania and worked as an interior designer. I regularly booked a ticket for the quick 90 minutes of travel into Midtown Manhattan by commuter bus.
The start of that Tuesday was pretty much like any other late summer morning. Daylight was starting a bit later each day, but there was the promise of sunny skies. I planned to leave home super early, catch the bus, and arrive around 8:30 a.m. The drop-off point was Port Authority, at 8th Avenue and 42nd Street.
I had a day fully scheduled with exciting interior design seminars at the D&D (Decoration & Design) Building, located in Midtown at 56th Street and Lexington Avenue. I was excited and looked forward to meeting people, filling my head with inspiration, and hearing about the newest design trends. Once I arrived and left Port Authority, I would grab a coffee and walk across town.
Rewind. I woke up that morning at 5:30 a.m. It was pitch black outside, and I wasn't too happy about having to get up that early. Fifteen minutes, I thought to myself, just fifteen minutes more, and I'd leave the comfort of my bed, get ready, and get out the door for the bus. Unfortunately, the clock's hands on the nightstand showed 6:45 a.m when I looked at it again. I was screwed. The last available morning bus into the city left at 7:30 a.m. I was going to miss it, plus the eventful day that I had planned.
I walked into my home office just before 9 a.m. I sulked with a coffee in front of the computer screen, writing an apology to the event coordinator. TV was on behind me; I got distracted by yelling voices. Turning to the screen, I saw lower Manhattan filled with commotion. News reporters sounded frantic. People were standing in the streets looking up through clear blue skies at dark smoke billowing up high from the north Twin Tower of the World Trade Center. I wasn't aware a hijacked American Airlines jet had sliced its way through top floors at 8:46 a.m. NYFD and NYPD got immediately dispatched to the scene at 8:47 a.m. People evacuated swiftly from the Tower's lower floors.
I was baffled. Returning to my computer, I continued to write, "It looks like something awful is going on downtown. I don't understand what's happening. But, be safe, and I look forward to seeing you in the future." I clicked 'send' on the keyboard. Just as I did that, I heard a horrified gasp from ABC network's Diane Sawyer that caused me to jerk back around. I witnessed the tail of the second hijacked American Airlines jet slam into the South Tower at 9:03 a.m. Networks were broadcasting this in real-time to the world. America was under attack.
My mother was the first person I called. She had no idea what was happening and didn't understand why I wasn't my usual cheery self. Then I spoke with my girlfriend in Chicago and begged her not to go to her office. She was already aware and said the Mayor advised everyone to stay at home. My guts were churning. I felt helpless. Who knew two more hijacked planes were flying on their way to designated targets. One, to attack the Pentagon. The other, a failed attempt that plummeted into a field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania. Soon after, the world watched both Twin Towers buckle and fall in slow motion, with thousands of people still trapped inside and violently crashing to earth.
My husband was at a trade show in Jersey City, across from lower Manhattan. The windowless walls of the conference center prevented him from being aware of the chaos just across the Hudson River. He was annoyed by the interruption of my first call. Not understanding the severity of the situation and why I was so upset, he tried to calm me then went back into his session. An hour later, after numerous attempts to reach him again, he answered, saying, "I get it. I see it. They are letting us leave soon." His drive home exceeded six hours. He told me fire trucks from both New Jersey and Pennsylvania flew past him. Helicopters loudly buzzed above and over the traffic, which was frantically trying to leave the city.
Panic set in for me and everyone else. The uncertainty of why these events happened was overwhelming—friends of mine related stories of how their spouses were in the Pentagon when it got hit. I heard about the alarming evacuation from buildings at the nearby State Department. And, I sat dumb-founded hearing how a dear friend in Brooklyn witnessed the horror of the collapse and disintegration of the south Twin Tower.
96% of Americans perceive that the country remains changed by the event. Seeing this destruction, I couldn't help but think of Salvador Dali's extreme and distorted paintings.
The first-ever grounding of all flights in the United States went into effect immediately. I remember that following Saturday at 6:15 a.m., hearing the first plane of the day take off from the nearby airport. I sat straight up in bed, quite scared. And, also felt thrilled that some normalcy seemed to be returning. But, as we well know, things were not typical for many months. Even the ease of past travel experiences has forever changed with the implementation of security screenings. It's been part of our routine check-in process for years for all airline passengers.
I tried not to relive September 11th, but days passed into weeks as I found myself immersed in the constantly changing news. A total of 2,996 people were killed, 2,763 from New York alone. I watched Anderson Cooper report live each night from Nino's Restaurant on downtown Canal Street. I felt deeply drawn to go back to New York City and help out in any capacity. I wanted to transfer my inner shock, rage, and sorrow, change it, and use it towards something constructive. Maybe this energy evolved because I hadn't heard my clock's alarm and missed that bus on that Tuesday morning. I thoroughly understood what a fateful day I avoided by not being in the city.
Daily navigation for cleanup was a painful task both physically and mentally. Dumptrucks removed remains throughout the days.
My dear friend, Marilyn Nanna, joined me for the weeks of volunteering.
Fast forward. After applying, I learned I was accepted as a volunteer for the Salvation Army and Nino's Restaurant. A great friend from Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, was joining me. I got on that commuter bus heading into Midtown. I would be working side by side with many New Yorkers who signed up to volunteer as well. Unknowingly, I would also hear their harrowing personal stories.
It was an honor and overwhelming at times to see how hard everyone worked with few breaks. I could not have been any happier than I was volunteering.
I plated daily meals for three weeks, made coffee, and had heartfelt conversations with recovery and utility workers, firefighters, police officers, and SWAT teams. The Salvation Army had a massive tent set up beside the gutted site. Nino's was a family restaurant, and everyone that entered got treated as such. The restaurant is now a 9/11 museum commemorating the months for all who came.
Everyone tirelessly worked day and night for months at the site. While I was there, I became friends with some that came in every day. One special person is Officer Paul Gitlin from Staten Island. His German Shepherd, K-9 "Bandit," had most notable service performing search and rescue at the World Trade Center. I saw them both in the tent almost daily.
Letters of heartfelt thanks were such a reward. Tears flowed over the thousands that made their way into the tent.
Twenty years later, it is as hard to relive and write this as when I saw it broadcast live. Except now, I do it with reflection, honor, and prayer for those needlessly taken. I do it with gratitude for those who served that day and the following many days. These memories are seared forever deep inside me. Emotions quickly arise each time I speak about it. But it feels great to know that we possess the fortitude to rise and rebuild as a nation. And we will never forget.
Named Freedom Tower initially, this is the main building of the rebuilt One World Trade Center. It is now the tallest building in New York and the Western Hemisphere.
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