9/11/ Rememberance

Following is an excerpt from a letter I wrote to my son shortly after the terrible events of 9/11/01. My yoga practice certainly helped me maintain my sanity during that time.

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I think I described to you what I saw last week. Our office is located at 15th Street and 8th Avenue, just over a mile from what is now being called Ground Zero. We have panoramic views of the entire city, including the site where the World Trade Center stood. Almost every day I have looked at those towers, and have always taken for granted that I would always see them there. They were part of our landscape, our skyline, our vision of what could be accomplished by human imagination. To look down there right now and see nothing but smoke is terribly surreal.

I got up the morning of September 11, 2001, pissed off that my hot water was off, and would be off till Thursday. I had my coffee, took a very cold sponge bath and washed my hair…tried to shave, and went to a local school to vote in the Primary election. I was happy and sad to see that the line to vote was non-existent. Happy because I didn’t need to spend any unnecessary time there, sad because there was such pathetic turnout. After voting I walked to work, returned some emails, checked my schedule for the day, and was talking with some co-workers. When I first heard someone screaming last Tuesday, I thought that perhaps a rat had gotten into the building, or that perhaps someone had been injured. The last thing I expected to see was a gaping hole in the side of one of the Twin Towers. People stared in disbelief…some started crying or screaming, concerned for loved ones who worked there. We stood there trying to decide if it had been a bomb, or an accidental explosion, but none of us were prepared for the news that it had been a plane that had hit, especially on such a beautiful fall morning. When we heard that, we assumed that the pilot must have suffered an injury or heart attack, or that there had been a malfunction somehow. I ran to my desk on the opposite side of the building to call Mom and Dad, and to let them know that I was ok (I knew that you would be asleep, and not knowing the news that the next few minutes would bring, I figured I would call you later). I started looking for a TV or radio that worked so that I could get more news…I logged onto the Internet to get news there as well. Just as I was reading reports that a plane had indeed crashed into the building, I heard screams coming from the lobby area of our floor. I ran over and about 20 people were looking out the windows, several of them saying that a 2nd plane had hit the other Tower. Not just a plane, though, a jumbo jetliner. Reports of hijackings started coming over the news, and it became obvious that we – that is NY or the US – were under attack. I had to go back to my desk to contact our Employee Assistance Program, as well as a chiropractor who was supposed to come to our office that day to give free consultations to our employees. By then the phone lines were down, and the Internet connections were sketchy. That’s when the first real wave of fear hit me. I started watching the Empire State Building, guessing that if we were under a big attack, it would be the next target. About that time more screams came from the lobby of our office, and again I ran out, not knowing what to expect. I had to blink a few times to take in what I was seeing. The first Tower, the 2nd hit, had collapsed. The remaining Tower was obscured by smoke, but the antenna on top was visible. This was ludicrous to me…how was it possible that this building could have fallen? I started wondering if the building had fallen in on itself, or worse, if it had fallen over onto other buildings like a giant toppling onto it’s face. Reports also started coming in that the Pentagon had been hit, and that there were fires on Capitol Hill (thankfully not true). As I was surveying the damage that I could see, and trying to calm whomever I could around me, we received a call that our agency was closing, but if people felt safer, they were welcome to stay. By this time we knew that transportation was going to be tough…Grand Central was closed, Port Authority also, bridges and tunnels shut down. It became apparent to us that we were in a state of emergency. The building sent security up to evacuate us – we were not in any danger that we knew of, however we do sit above a major subway station, and the Port Authority (who originally owned the WTC, as well as patrols and maintains many of the transportation venues) maintains offices here. I walked down from the 14th Floor, and then the ½ block to my apartment (I am so fortunate to live so close to work…I have heard stories of people having to walk miles, cross bridges, etc. Some were not able to make it home for a couple of days. Some not at all.)

So I got home, turned on the news, tried to call several people, including you, and was unable to get through. Phone lines were out, cellular service was gone…after all, the WTC was a major hub of communications as well…the tower on top, from what I understand, contained antennae for cell phones as well as the media. A funny story I was told – a woman, shortly after the attack, was on her cell phone. She was in a heightened state of frustration and anger, and was screaming at a customer service rep for Sprint “I pay a lot of money every month and I can’t believe that I can’t get service, blah blah blah!” Finally someone approached her and pointed out that the problem was not with Sprint, but with the fact that the big antenna just got blown up. I could identify with the woman’s frustration. Ironic, after the symbolism of the attack, that our consciousness is that money can solve our problems. A point to ponder, I’m sure, but I’m trying to stay away from my own rhetoric. So, I’m on the phone trying desperately to get through to friends, relatives, anyone, and I see on my television screen the 2nd Tower fall. For the first time. I sat on my bed in shock for a moment, amazed at what had happened. Suddenly the fact that I didn’t have hot water for my shower seemed pretty trivial.

During the course of the day I saw the horror of the situation played out over and over. Each time I expected someone to come on and say that it had all been a joke. It didn’t even look real…not even as good as some of the special effects in Hollywood. I spoke to friends, family, and waited. I felt completely powerless. I waited some more, went to the store, bought some extra water, went back home and waited some more. Finally a friend of mine wanted to come over and spend some time together. We watched the news…I couldn’t seem to get away from it, nor was I able to turn it off. We decided to walk around for a bit, so we walked down 7th Avenue towards St. Vincent’s Hospital, and looked south towards the cloud of smoke that had been the World Trade Center just hours before. We walked a bit further south, and started to smell the burning building. A friend pointed out the next day that we were also smelling human beings burning in the rubble. I still can’t face that reality. We spent some time together, and I went home, only to watch the news and wait some more.

The next day I woke up and, like so many people, hoped that this was a bad dream. After turning on the television I realized that it wasn’t. I found myself looking out whenever I heard a fighter jet fly over, and getting nervous if a delivery van remained parked outside my apartment for more than a few minutes. Finally after a few hours of watching the coverage, I went outside to walk around. Barricades were set up across the width of Manhattan at 14th Street (1 block from my apartment) with armed guards checking ID of those that were trying to get to their homes. Military personnel were patrolling in camouflage HumVees. Fighter jets were flying overhead. There were several people on the street, but there was a definite feeling of tension. I walked over to Union Square Park, and there was a makeshift memorial sprouting up, with yards of brown paper on the ground where people could write whatever they were feeling. After a long time, I reached down and wrote the word “HEAL” in a corner of the paper. It was the only thing I could think of saying. I made my way home and went to a meeting that night. Honestly, that’s about all I remember of Wednesday.

The next few days got progressively easier, though one image remains burned in my memory. I was again walking around Union Square Park with a friend, and we saw some mothers pushing their children on the swing set – with surgical masks covering their faces.

I have been able to get together with friends, go out to dinner and movies, take yoga classes, get back to work, and begin the process of my own healing. I am fortunate in that I have a lot of support here, and that nobody I know personally was injured. Several friends are temporarily out of work because their offices were either in the World Trade Center, or nearby. Life is going on. With perspective. The thing that I am continually impressed with is how we have come together. The incredible heroism, rescue and relief efforts, volunteerism, support from friends around the world…it’s truly amazing, and I am very grateful for that. It’s sad in a way that it took something of this magnitude to bring us together in this way, but that’s the way it is right now. Without indulging too much in my own rhetoric or philosophy, I hope that we, as a World, can go forward with the same amount of love and compassion that we have seen over the last few days.
In closing, I would like to leave you with something that we say at the end of one of my yoga classes. It has been a source of solace for me in many ways. “May the entire Universe be filled with Peace and Joy, Love and Light, and may the Light of Truth overcome all Darkness. Victory to that Light.”