Witness to History: 9/11 Memories 20 Years Later

I lived on the Upper Westside and worked on the Eastside on 67th and York. I would walk to work every day, except if there was a blizzard or a hurricane. Most of my walk was through Central Park. On 9/11 it was one of the most perfect days New York had ever seen. I really enjoyed it, oblivious to what was about to happen.

I entered the office expecting a chorus of good mornings, but everybody had their eyes glued to CNN on their desktops. I asked what was going on, and they said a plane had hit the World Trade Center.

“That's crazy! There’s no way a plane could crash into the World Trade Center. It's a clear day.”

I stood behind them and watched the CNN report with the camera focused on the burning building. Suddenly, as we were watching in real time, another plane came into view and crashed into the other tower.

For a moment we were silent and totally stunned. Then reality hit us. We were under attack. Our minds quickly shifted to what we had to do next.

Our first thoughts were for those in our personal lives. One of us had two brothers and a cousin working in one of the towers and her mother was working in a building across the street. And another had worked in the offices at the top of one of those towers and had many friends there.

We each got on our phones calling family and friends. The one who used to work there was frantically trying to call all the numbers she knew. She could not get through to any of them.

The woman whose family members were working down there, was desperately trying to call each of them. She also was not able to get through.

I called my husband, who was scheduled for his first radiation therapy at a downtown hospital. I told him what happened and that he should call the hospital to check on his appointment. The hospital called him soon after and canceled the appointment.

No one could do any work. We were waiting to hear what the hospital was going to do. We didn't know if they would need us or if they were just going to send all non-medical staff home.

The phone calls were being made, over and over again. I tried to calm them down and reminded them that there were probably thousands of people trying to call friends and relatives down there. Meanwhile CNN was announcing that the Pentagon had been hit and that a fourth plane crashed down in Pennsylvania.

We didn't know what to do. We didn't know how we were going to get home. We didn't know what to expect when we went out. We were under attack. We didn't know if there would be something going on in the streets as well.

Suddenly somebody from the lab ran into the office. “One of the towers is gone!”

I ran to the lab to see. Even that far uptown we could see the two towers above all the other buildings. We stood staring at the one remaining building, wondering how that whole building could just disappear like that. And then we saw the other building come down. It was very strange the way it seemed to slowly descend and disappear. It wasn’t like an explosion. It just lowered into itself, like a collapsible cup.

Finally, the hospital issued a statement requesting all non-medical people to go home and to not come in the next day. All medical staff were to remain, and a call went out to all other medical staff to come to work, if they were able to. The hope was that there would be many survivors who would need medical help.

Just before we left, my office mate was able to reach her mother, who insisted on staying in the office. She told her to leave right away. Her mother was afraid to go out in the street covered with ash, people, and everything from the buildings. But she was soon told she had to evacuate.

I left to walk home. The streets were blocked. There were no cars or buses. The Armory was surrounded with barricades and military guarding it. I walked home past a blood bank that already had a line of people waiting to donate blood. We were all still hoping there would be many survivors.

At home the people were gathered outside. Strangers were hugging each other. People were crying. People looked dazed. Everyone wanted to be with people. We were no longer the independent I'm a-world-unto-myself city slickers. We were already a city in pain.

By 5:00 o'clock all religious and community centers were open. They were holding candlelight vigils. People didn't care what religion anyone was then. The centers didn't care what religion the people there were. Everyone needed to be with people. Everyone wanted comfort and to comfort each other.

We went into the church across the street where people from all religions were gathering, holding candles, crying, and praying. The priest said a prayer and began reading a list of names. He invited the people to speak out the names they wanted added to the list.

He started reading off the names slowly along with a prayer for each one to find safe passage. Some people stood up and spoke out a name. Some people were softly crying. Then the young woman, sitting right in front of us, started sobbing uncontrollably. It turns out that she was a stewardess and was supposed to be on one of the planes. She had traded her scheduled flight with her friend’s. For her friend there could be no prayer for safety. For her friend there was no doubt, because her friend was on one of those planes. She was inconsolable. Her friend was gone, and there was the guilt she felt that she should have been the one on that plane.

My brother, who worked for the sanitation department, on 9/11 went down to Ground Zero immediately after he was done with his round. No one was allowed below 14th St unless they had proof that they lived there, or they had a city badge. My brother used his city badge to get down there and see what he could do to help. He worked at Ground Zero for six months helping with the cleanup. Five years later he died of cancer.

I had many friends who were healers, psychics, massage therapists, etc. They wanted to help and were able to convince the city government to find a place where they could offer their healing treatment to the firemen and others who were working at Ground Zero. These were men who were working 24/7, not taking any breaks. They were hoping above everything to find survivors. The city set up a place for the healers in one of the nearby peers - a place for the healers to work on the Ground Zero workers and give them some relief.

All my friends who had been there said that the intense energy that came to them through these men had affected them as well. They were all sensitives and able to feel other peoples’ energy and experiences. Just working on those men took a toll on them as well.

The next day I went by the fire station a few blocks from us. There were flowers and messages all over in front of the fire engine station. And the few firemen who were still there were standing around in a daze, and some of them sitting on the ground just sobbing. They had lost 17 men from their fire station.

Immediately the photographs appeared everywhere, people missing, people who were probably already gone, but with the hope that maybe they were suffering from amnesia and were wandering around somewhere. The photographs were haunting, not letting us even for a moment to forget what we had just been through, each photo an individual suddenly removed from our world and our lives.

And then there were the bagpipers. The church across the street had many funerals there. Bagpipes were playing all the time. The bagpipers came from all over the country and from other parts of the world. They played at the many funerals, and they played at the fire stations that had lost men. For the rest of my life, I will never be able to hear the sound of a bagpipe without getting that emotional ache and memory of 9/11.

So, the day that started out as one of the most beautiful days the city had seen, turned into the worst day the city had ever experienced.

Every 9/11 I think of all the lives lost, of the extraordinary bravery of the first responders who gave their lives or put their incredible energy into saving peoples’ lives. I wear the Ground Zero cleanup jacket my brother gave me. I wear it every 9/11 in honor of him, in honor of all those lives lost, in honor of the extraordinary effort of all the people at Ground Zero trying to save people. Even if I get Alzheimer's 9/11 will not be lost to my memory. It's permanently etched on my very soul.