story1406.xml

story1406.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2002-08-22

I wrote the following for my newspaper, La Gaceta, in Tampa on September 12:

"Is everyone all right? Please, someone reply if you are in New York and are all right."

That is it. That mass email I sent to my 20 or so friends and family up north is the only communication I had with anyone in the New York area.
While those I love were stuck in New York, while those closest to me were prisoners of this horrific crime, all I could do is sit at my desk and stare at my email, hoping that someone would reply, hoping that someone would calm my fears.

I felt hopeless, I felt weak and I felt small and insignificant. How dare I be afraid? How dare I be scared? Here I sit, in my nice comfy air conditioned office staring at the horror on a television while so many I know have to deal with it firsthand, they are living the horror.

My entire life, these people were always there for me. When I accomplished something great, my friends and family were always there to congratulate me. When I was hurt, when things went wrong, they were always there to lift my spirits with a hug, with a joke or simply by being with me.

But when they needed me most, when they needed me to hug them and tell them it would be all right, when they needed me to crack a joke and try to bring a smile to their faces during this bleak moment, I was nowhere to be found. I wished I was Superman and could fly to New York in a matter of seconds, blow the cloud of smoke away from the city and search the streets for my friends and family and fly them to safety. But I couldn?t. All I am is a simple writer for a local paper. I?m not Superman, I?m only Clark Kent. I felt like a nobody.

Slowly a few emails started coming in. One was from my friend Mike who said our friend Marc, who takes a train to the World Trade Center everyday, took the day off work in order to close on his house. Another was from my friend Chris? fianc? Kim, who said she spoke to Chris and he was all right. But still, so many of my friends and family were unaccounted for, so many were still lost.

I called my mother and she reassured me that my aunt and uncle were all right, and my cousin, who works across the street from the World Trade Center, overslept so was nowhere near the explosion. It was so hard not to cry, not to want to jump into the phone and hug my mother, and ask her to tell me that everything would be all right, that everyone would be fine.

I ran to the bathroom and could no longer keep my composure. I cried and I cried. I cried for my friends and family who were lucky enough to live through the experience, and I cried for my friends and family whom I had not yet heard from.

For the rest of the day, all I could think of was everyone I know who is stuck in New York. I could picture them trapped and afraid. I could picture them locked away in their homes, huddled together, afraid and confused, and I grew even more upset. I wanted to be there with them, I wanted to help.

As the evening wore on, the feelings never ceased, until the late news came on and showed some interesting footage of the city from the sky. Despite all the destruction, all the horror and all the pain, the Statue of Liberty stood tall. Despite the best efforts of these terrorists, they were not able to destroy America and they were not able to destroy what we stand for, and I grew angry. Angry that I allowed these a**holes to play with my emotions like this. Angry that I allowed them to scare me, make me feel small and make me feel pathetic. As long as we allow them to do this to us, to make us feel this way, they win. As long as they have affected the way we live and the way we see the world, we allow them to win. I am not pathetic, I not weak and I am someone. I am an American, and that counts for a lot in my eyes.

I am stronger than some cowards who think they can change the world through faceless acts of terror. I am stronger than these cowards who feel the need to destroy life out of jealousy of what we have built here in America.

I refuse to be afraid any more. I refuse to let them win. While everyone else in the media writes that a piece of us died during that terrorist act, I say the opposite. I never say the glass is half empty, I have always said that the glass is half full. So on this day I do not say a piece of me is dead, but much of me is alive.

A few of my friends are still missing ? guys I went to college and high school with, girls I had childhood crushes on. Some of the news will be good and some will undoubtedly be bad, but no matter what the future may hold, I know I can find comfort in the fact that America is alive and all that we stand for will continue to live forever.