story104.xml
Title
story104.xml
Source
born-digital
Media Type
story
Date Entered
2002-02-28
911DA Story: Story
It was still dark when I got to work at 6AM:, unusually early due to the start of NY?s Fashion Week. We had photographers covering runway shows and parties, and I had lots of material to get through. Then at approximately 9 o?clock, our tech guy called out and said that the WTC was on fire.
I went to his computer and saw the grainy image on CNN?s website. I ran back to my desk and picked up the phone, dialed 775-1035, my sister?s work number. There was no answer. Then I called my mom. No, there was no word from Diane. A few minutes later I heard her scream, ?Oh God, there?s another one.? The last thing I remember her saying was, ?Go find your sister.?
I felt sharp needles of anxiety and I craved a cigarette. My boss wasn?t in yet but I just couldn?t sit there. I left my computer on, the screen still filled with happy glamorous faces, along and a cup of cold coffee. I jogged over to 6th Avenue and saw the crowds pointing at the buildings billowing thick clouds of smoke.
There were a bunch of construction guys gathered on a 22nd Street, cursing. I spottted a phone across the street and ran to call my boss?s voicemail. With a catch in my throat, I told her that I wasn?t sure if I?d be back.
I kept walking south, 21st, 20th, 19th Streets, stopping along the way, listening to newsreports blasting out of car radios. Terrorism? The Pentagon? The White House? It was so fucking unbelievable.
The day was utterly gorgeous. Bright blue sky, cool dry temps, reminding me of beautiful New Mexican mornings. My cell phone was dead. People?s faces were twisted with uncertainty. Then the inconceivable.
I remember a restaurant awning, a blonde woman, and a guy with a camera pointed in our direction. Everyone stopped. ?Oh, No?Oh, God?Oh, Shit.? I really thought that I would hit the ground too. I refused to believe what my eyes took in. ?Diane, Diane, I kept thinking. Are you there in that pile? Did you get away? Where are you now??
By now, my body was on automatic pilot. I came across a smiling young black woman, a deaf mute, leaning against a community garden fence. I handed her a dollar as she mouthed the words ?God bless you.? She was immune to the horror, but I kept on walking. Soon I found myself in my old Village neighborhood. Seeing Our Lady of Pompeii, the church I used to live right across from, I walked up the steps. I needed a place to regroup, afraid that I would collapse right on the sidewalk.
I moved into the left side pew, in front of a statue of the Blessed Mother. I prayed for my sister. I prayed for the dead. I thought of my great-grandmother, remembered all those end-of-the-world dreams. It was a nightmare come to life and I didn?t know where to go or what to do. When I reached 6th Avenue again, a white van screeched to a halt. A young Chinese guy jumped out and I followed his gaze, catching in midstream, the second tower?s collapse. I got as far south as Grand Street and turned back. Days later, I was still numb.
Before I had received the message that my sister Diane had survived, I had already known that she was alright. Somehow a deep, deep feeling had quietly reassured me that she was safe. I?m not sure if I?ll ever be able to describe my feelings of that day. But one thing I am convinced of is that I will always love this city with every ounce of my being.
I went to his computer and saw the grainy image on CNN?s website. I ran back to my desk and picked up the phone, dialed 775-1035, my sister?s work number. There was no answer. Then I called my mom. No, there was no word from Diane. A few minutes later I heard her scream, ?Oh God, there?s another one.? The last thing I remember her saying was, ?Go find your sister.?
I felt sharp needles of anxiety and I craved a cigarette. My boss wasn?t in yet but I just couldn?t sit there. I left my computer on, the screen still filled with happy glamorous faces, along and a cup of cold coffee. I jogged over to 6th Avenue and saw the crowds pointing at the buildings billowing thick clouds of smoke.
There were a bunch of construction guys gathered on a 22nd Street, cursing. I spottted a phone across the street and ran to call my boss?s voicemail. With a catch in my throat, I told her that I wasn?t sure if I?d be back.
I kept walking south, 21st, 20th, 19th Streets, stopping along the way, listening to newsreports blasting out of car radios. Terrorism? The Pentagon? The White House? It was so fucking unbelievable.
The day was utterly gorgeous. Bright blue sky, cool dry temps, reminding me of beautiful New Mexican mornings. My cell phone was dead. People?s faces were twisted with uncertainty. Then the inconceivable.
I remember a restaurant awning, a blonde woman, and a guy with a camera pointed in our direction. Everyone stopped. ?Oh, No?Oh, God?Oh, Shit.? I really thought that I would hit the ground too. I refused to believe what my eyes took in. ?Diane, Diane, I kept thinking. Are you there in that pile? Did you get away? Where are you now??
By now, my body was on automatic pilot. I came across a smiling young black woman, a deaf mute, leaning against a community garden fence. I handed her a dollar as she mouthed the words ?God bless you.? She was immune to the horror, but I kept on walking. Soon I found myself in my old Village neighborhood. Seeing Our Lady of Pompeii, the church I used to live right across from, I walked up the steps. I needed a place to regroup, afraid that I would collapse right on the sidewalk.
I moved into the left side pew, in front of a statue of the Blessed Mother. I prayed for my sister. I prayed for the dead. I thought of my great-grandmother, remembered all those end-of-the-world dreams. It was a nightmare come to life and I didn?t know where to go or what to do. When I reached 6th Avenue again, a white van screeched to a halt. A young Chinese guy jumped out and I followed his gaze, catching in midstream, the second tower?s collapse. I got as far south as Grand Street and turned back. Days later, I was still numb.
Before I had received the message that my sister Diane had survived, I had already known that she was alright. Somehow a deep, deep feeling had quietly reassured me that she was safe. I?m not sure if I?ll ever be able to describe my feelings of that day. But one thing I am convinced of is that I will always love this city with every ounce of my being.
Collection
Citation
“story104.xml,” September 11 Digital Archive, accessed January 24, 2025, https://911digitalarchive.org/items/show/19436.