REFLECTIONS ON 9/11/01

Essay:  Reflections on 9/11/01

I remember coming to work and noting what an astonishingly beautiful day it was.  I was in a good mood because I had plans to travel Upstate that evening to meet with a dear friend.  I anticipated another of our typical discussions involving various philosophical topics.  Always heady stuff.

Settling in at the office at about 8:45, I was frustrated that I couldn’t get online.  The phone rang.  It was a call from the son of one of our staff members.  He was screaming, “Why are you there?  Get out of town!”  “What!?”  Then he told me about the plane hitting the first tower.  He asked if his father was in yet.  He was not.  I was alone in the office, always first to arrive.  I ran for the tv and soon one of my co-workers arrived.  He had heard.  I told him to call his son.  I realized that I had been on the subway under the World Trade Center about twenty minutes before the attack on the first tower.  I started shaking.  (That station on the “R” line is still being rebuilt, eight years and counting.)  Each person on our small staff came in as we huddled in a small circle in disbelief before the TV.  The catastrophe was getting larger by the moment.  We were in Midtown so there was no external turmoil.  The uberboss came in and looked directly at me, scowling, and asked sarcastically asked if I would get him a cup of coffee.  Some things never change.  It was clear that to him, it was business as usual.  To him I was a slacker, even in the face of a monumental crisis.  I provided the coffee, scowling back, and decided that I’d better get to my desk.  He then directed me to get the members of his family on the phone for him, one at a time.  Gee, thanks!  One would think that he would suggest that I try to get through to my own family members!  I can’t forgive his behavior, even after his death a year or so ago.  I don’t know why he kept us there, but once he decided that no real business could be done, he let us know that we would close up at 1:00.  I am grateful that the two other executives (living in Manhattan) invited me and my other support staff worker to stay with their families, but I needed to get home (somehow) to my daughter and my husband.  This was not going to be easy.  I decided to try to get down to Union Square to meet up with my husband and then walk over the Brooklyn Bridge.  I went down to Fifth Avenue and actually saw a city bus.  It was only going down to 42nd Street.  As I was boarding, I saw a sightseeing bus go by, full of tourists.  This was one of the most bizarre sights I could imagine.  I also saw the smoke, even at this location.  Someone said the IRT was running, so I headed west.  Walking through Times Square was surreal.  A giant TV screen across the street was transmitting the minute-to-minute coverage, sans sound, as a homeless man on the sidewalk was screaming, “This is real!  This is not a movie!”  A cop stopped me from entering the IRT station.  It had stopped running.  Thankfully, I learned that the Eighth Avenue line was still operational.  I called my husband, telling him I’d meet him at home.  On the “A” train, some teenaged girls were acting out, oblivious of the chaos above ground.  I was glad to get to my neighborhood.  I decided to detour to the Promenade.  First I was assaulted by the smell, then I saw the smoke.  The sky above the Trade Center across the river was a horrible yellow, something like an egg yoke.  A car was parked on a side street with its doors open, the radio blasting the news.  Finally, I got home and eventually I was able to get through to my relatives to let them all know that we were o.k.  Of course they were frantic. My clever friend from upriver called to confirm that I was NOT coming up by rail.  Obviously not.  The days ahead were very frightening.  There was even a moment that showed a compassionate side of Bush as he stood on the pile with a worker.  We know more now.  He was asleep at the switch regarding a significant terror threat and then manipulated information that has led us into an unnecessary and ceaseless war in Iraq.  National security  became a shady business involving torture, snooping on citizens and an unhealthy climate in which even our patriotism could hinge on whether or not we wore flag pins or asked tough questions.  Thankfully, we are past that terrible time and the Bush Administration is history.  But we’re never going to be out of the woods.  There are people out there who hate us.  And there are people in our own country whose narrow perceptions and shallow understanding (devotees of Limbaugh &  Co.) who perpetuate the cowboy mentality that invites division nationally and courts danger internationally.  It is essential for our society to embrace a more thoughtful, analytical approach.  The bumper-sticker mentality hasn’t made us more safe.  We are really at a crossroads.  Hopefully we can again stand for what’s good and decent in the world.