Ten Years Ago, One September Morning

I live in New York City, about 2 miles from Ground Zero.  Ten years later, my memories are still vivid.  But when I think of Sept 11, 2001, my mind is filled with a series of cinematic shorts, so to speak, rather than a single memory or linear story:

Photo Credit: Kim Williams (Taken from our rooftop

•  Bounding up the stairs to the roof of my building with a cup of coffee and my dog, somewhat excitedly,  to check out the "plane accident".  Lots of neighbors were already gathered and there was lots of animated conversation about "how the pilot could have made such an error"...and then silence as the second plane hit.  It was at that moment that we all knew at the same time that this was no accident. 

•   I recall running from the roof down to my apartment, back up to the roof, down again to my apartment and repeating this many times.   My cell phone wasn’t working.   No one’s was.   I wanted to be in my apartment to let the family and friends who were calling know that I was ok, but I didn’t want to be in my apartment, I wanted to be on the roof watching, wondering, letting it all sink in.

•  We milled around on the roof for hours, some yelling, some crying, all bewildered.  I was the president of my building's  co-op and felt a responsibility to make sure “my people” were ok.  I invited several down to my apartment where we stayed until late in the evening.  I picked up Chinese food, somebody brought beer, and there we stayed  glued to the television for any tidbit of news that would help us make sense of this terrible tragedy.

•  At one point, we thought we should go to St Vincent’s, the neighborhood hospital, to donate blood.  The gravity of the situation really hit us when we learned that they didn’t really need blood.

•  I made a really good friend that day.  Kim, a woman who I’d had a nodding acquaintance with, was one of those who came to my apartment to eat and comfort each other.  She took the photos of two towers, then one, then none that are still on my mantle (and the one in this post).

•  The guy I was dating lived in Long Island, about 90 minutes away.  He thought we should be together during this time.  I didn't think it was that important…and I guess it dawned on me right then that this wasn’t the guy for me.

• Around 9p, I wanted them all to go home.  I felt like I needed to be alone to really let it all sink in.  As long as I had a houseful of people, it wouldn’t feel quite real.  I knew it would only become real when I had to go back to trying to have a normal life…back to being alone in my apartment, just me and my dog.

I have zero memory of September 12.  I do recall, somewhat surprisingly, that life went on...pretty normally for the most part, rather quickly afterwards.  I also think I teared up for the first time ever the next time I heard our country's national anthem.

Ten years later, I was one of those who celebrated --unashamedly-- the killing of Osama Bin Laden.

What about you?  What do you think of when you remember September 11, 2001?

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