I was there that day

Some time between 8:46 and 9:03 am on Tuesday September 11, 2001 I walked out of the south east exit of the Wall St. station of the 2/3 subway line. I looked up and it looked like it was snowing. White puffs drifted gently down to the ground. I thought to myself, “It’s snowing. That’s weird.” It was only September, after all.

I turned left out of the station and headed toward Maiden Ln., the road my office building was on. I saw people on the corner looking up, they may have been pointing. I can’t be sure.

So I turned and looked. And there, where I expected it, was the World Trade Center. The Twin Towers. NYC’s logo. Forget about Big Apples this is what people saw when they thought New York.

Except not like this. It took me a brief moment to figure out what was different, I mean I could only see the parts of the towers above the rest of the skyline on Wall St. I see it now, the World Trade Center’s on fire. “Oh, the World Trade Center is on fire.” I think to myself, “They’ll put it out.” And I continue on my way to work.

Now this brief moment, my instant reaction to seeing the WTC on fire is something I’ve agonized over for the past eight years. I didn’t know any different; I couldn’t tell the extent of what was going on from my vantage point 6 blocks away and on the ground; I couldn’t comprehend THIS. Now, in my mind, I can see that image clear as day. I will never forget that image.

So I walked to work.

The second plane hit when I was in the elevator.

I remember the elevator doors opening on my floor and seeing a ton of people moving about. One of them was my boss’s boss. She was crying. I don’t remember how or when I was told. I don’t remember what was said. Everything from “A plane accidentally hit the World Trade Center.” to “We’re under attack.” seems plausible. I think I remember not being sure what was happening for quite some time. But it was significant. And scary. Everyone knew SOMETHING was happening; no one had any thoughts about going about their day.

I remember doing two things at my desk that morning. No, three things: calling my dad and telling him I was okay (I don’t think he had heard yet so our conversation probably was a bit weird for him). Calling my sister (who lived in mid-town New York) and telling her to stay inside no matter what. And racking my brain trying to think of who might work inside the towers. I only came up with one person and I didn’t know how to, uh, check. (Turns out that he wasn’t there that day)

I remember watching the Towers fall on tv. I remember it because I saw the picture of the Tower falling and then I felt the earth shake. I will never forget that.

Then the cloud came and enveloped my building. We were down wind from the Towers. The debris and dust caused by the collapse was so pervasive that this cloud of darkness enveloped the whole building. On the 12th floor it got dark. And muted. It was kind of like when you drive into a carwash. First it gets darker, then it rumbles and your windows get obscured. Inside nothing has changed, but everyone just freezes watching your car get enveloped. To me, that was the point it became REAL.

Now that I’m thinking about it (you have to realize that I haven’t thought this intensely about the details of that day ever), I think I called my sister after the Towers fell.

The rest of the day is a blur. We waited, trapped inside by the settling dust until we felt it was clear enough to venture out. They gave us wet wash rags to cover our face with to protect us from the dust, but to be honest, that day and the subsequent days when I was back in Lower Manhattan working, doing my part to restore order for my company, I spent tons (TONS) of time all around ground zero. I’m sure I’ve breathed in enough of whatever toxins were in the air that there is a good chance that it will be detrimental to my health.

But that day, me and my friend Dave took our wet wash rags, covered our faces and walked to the Brooklyn Bridge. They had city buses taking people across, so we got on one. I have an image of that in my mind but I’m not sure if anything happened on the ride.

It dropped us off on the other side of the bridge and we walked to my apartment which was about 12 blocks away. Long but doable walk. Then I borrowed my roommates car and drove Dave home. I don’t remember anything else about that day.

I do remember waking up in the middle of the night that night and staring out my window. My window faced the lot behind our apartment which butted up against the backs of the buildings one block south of us. I remember seeing a single light on the building directly behind my apartment and thinking that it was the light on the front of an airplane that was headed straight toward me. It was that half-asleep kind of dazed interpretation of reality that suddenly lifts and you realize that you’ve been awake but still dreaming. It was scary nonetheless.

That is my September 11th.
I have a hard time talking about it still. This is the first time I’ve written about it. I’m not sure what, if any, benefit there is to me writing this.

For me, September 11 is the day that I completely lost my childhood. It had been slipping away ever since my mother was first diagnosed with cancer when I was 8 and breathed her last breath when I was 19. But September 11th wiped the rest of it out. I’m not really sure what, if anything was left. Maybe it was the remnant of my naivety or my ingnorant faith that life was safe. That the horrors of the reality that is war and violence couldn’t actually reach into my life. From what I’ve seen, that’s a hard transition for people to go through. Maybe what I’m saying is that I feel like I’m personally a victim of this violence because I witnessed it. Because it was real for me. Close to me. Kind of like how seeing death changes you. September 11 broke every promise that I had foolishly believed life had made with me.

The truth is that life never made any such promises. I’ve just been fortunate enough to spend most of my life isolated from such realities.

Yet having experienced it doesn’t help me to reconcile my desire to protect my children from such violence at all costs. Or how to love an support those who’ve been hurt by the tragedy of that day far worse than I have. For me, to be honest, I shy away from evoking the memories of this day. Because I don’t want to relive the fear, the hurt, the pain of being so vulnerable yet somehow making it through alright.

…
There is no point to this entry. Today is September 11, 2009. It’s been 8 years since that fateful day. My life has changed so drastically since that day. I’m married. I’m the father of two beautiful children. I’m self-employed. I struggle daily with the desire to immerse myself fully in both Christ’s love and his sovereignty over my life. I am not the same person today that I was on September 11, 2001. But, yet, somehow I am. Something was imprinted on me that day that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

I was close to the World Trade Center that day. I will forever be close to the World Trade Center.