Reflections from 9/12/01 twenty three years later.
We all remember the heroic actions taken by so many to help, save, and comfort others. Our collective loss is incalculable. Describing the events of that day is challenging and emotional. I remember it was a beautiful day with bright blue skies and not a cloud as far as the eye could see.
I spent some time thinking about the day after 9/11, what I remember, and what we experienced. We had every TV in the house turned on. I can still see the video in my head of the towers falling, the Pentagon crash, and the field in Shanksville, PA. It was here where Todd Beamer and the men and women on United Flight 93 would end their heroic fight with the bad guys. They saved many lives.
The company I was working for at the time was not doing well. We were due to close a deal for a much-needed investment on 9/11, but the day's events postponed it. I didn’t go to work that day like so many others. The parking lot in Middletown, where people parked to commute by train to NYC, was still full of cars. I reasoned on this day that it was because so many hadn’t come home the night before. On this day, I would start to pick up our local papers. I did this for several weeks to read about the people who lost their lives. I would find the names of a dozen people I knew in some way, shape, or form. These included a friend and brother from my college fraternity. The American Red Cross parking lot near my house was full of vehicles. Cars were also parked all over the grass in front of the building. These were the cars of local citizens donating blood. I remember driving through town; everyone you saw had pain in their eyes. People stopped to let you pass; everyone held doors open for one another. I saw many people hugging each other, embracing and supporting.
On 9/12, we started to see the first of frequent interviews with Howard Lutnick. He is the CEO of the NYC-based brokerage Cantor Fitzgerald. His business had lost many people, including two of my friends. He helped many families and kept the firm alive.
Our three young boys became fixated on the TV. We tried to describe what had happened, but no explanation made sense to them or us. We had the family over to our house and shared stories with close friends. The TV continued to show the jagged piece of metal, which was all that remained of where I once worked. I thought about the people inside the buildings a lot. I remember what it was like going down 72 flights of stairs on 2/26/1993. This is the date of the first World Trade Center attack. I couldn’t get my head around it then and still cannot.
It’s been twenty-three years; we respect and honor those who have fallen to this day.
On this day and for weeks, many people were interviewed on TV to describe what they had seen or experienced. They were looking for lost friends or family members. They explained what they looked like and repeated their names. You could see the hope in their eyes that someone watching had seen them. People started to post pictures around the WTC site. They would show up at the train station near my home in a few days. The unclaimed cars of the victims remained. Everyone hoped and prayed their loved one would come home alive.
On 9/12/2001, we started to learn about the fearless leadership of the firefighters and police officers. These stories would continue for years. We came to know the personalities of these heroes and the actions they had taken to help others. The collective response of these men and women was limitless and without boundaries.
Despite such a tragic event, I firmly believe people are kind and genuine in heart. Soon, October will approach, reminding me to fly the flag. I will cry once again, knowing I will have to find the strength to raise it.
Peace, Chris
This is a piece I wrote for the Goodmen Project many years ago. I made some small edits. The story has not hanged.
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