nmah5475.xml
Title
nmah5475.xml
Source
born-digital
Media Type
story
Date Entered
2003-03-26
NMAH Story: Story
Where I grew up, I was used to low flying jets. My town, Far Rockaway, NY, was only a few miles away from Kennedy Airport, so the sound of jets taking off and landing was commonplace and didnt warrant any particular notice or concern, except when the roar of the engines drowned out a crucial scene during a TV show. I now live in Manhattan and its been many years since I heard a jet flying low enough to catch my attention. But one did on September 11, 2001.
I was leaving my house to go to work at Two World Trade Center and just as I turned the key in the lock on my front door a very low flying jet went over my house. I remember thinking that the jet was flying way too low for Manhattan as it rumbled loudly overhead. But, like a true New Yorker, I just shook off the experience and proceeded to go to work exiting through the garden in the back of my building. As I stepped into the garden, my first thought was what a beautiful a day it was. The sky was clear and the air was dry -- very nice for a late summer morning. September 11th is my niece Debbies birthday and I was thinking about the plans we made to celebrate. I was approaching Second Avenue and 11th Street when I noticed a group of people on the corner talking excitedly. One of them was flailing his arms around and pointing to the sky. I wondered what was going on, but again, like a true New Yorker, I decided to mind my own business and continue on to work. As I stood on the corner and waited for the light to change I heard one member of the group mention the World Trade Center. Hearing that, I turned and asked him what happened and he said that a jet just crashed into the World Trade Center. He described how he watched the troubled plane flying over our neighborhood and that it was bobbing up and down and its wings were tipping from side to side.
I couldnt believe what I just heard so I started walking south on Second Avenue to see if I could see anything and thats when I saw thick black smoke pouring out of the top of Tower One. For a split second I was torn between going to work or turning around and going home. In the confusion of the moment I didnt know what to do, so I went into a local deli where the radio was on and the reporter confirmed what my eyes saw but my mind did not want to believe. I started walking back home in tears saying Oh, my God over and over again.
Back in my apartment, I put the TV on and began to watch the rest of the horrors of that day play out. I watched as Two World Trade Center exploded. My first thought was that it was related to the first crash. It just seemed logical -- what else could it be? But when it was confirmed that a second plane hit Tower Two, I, like everyone else, knew that we were under attack. I saw that the plane hit above the 80th floor and I was praying that everyone in my office got out in time. I was trying to remember all of our early birds - employees who came to work before 9:15 a.m. After that, I remember thinking that I could never go back into that building again, and that I hoped my firm wouldnt go back. We had survived the bombing in 1993 and now this. Thats two more attacks than I could stand. Fifty-three minutes later it was a moot point. The building where I spent 10 years of my life began crumbling into dust. As I watched the dust cloud I remember thinking that what I was seeing wasnt really happening and that when the dust cleared my tower would still be there. The reality of what followed was one of the most traumatic experiences of my life. It was gone. And then the other was gone and it was only 10:30 a.m. What took seven years to build was gone in 1 hour and forty-five minutes.
The hours and days afterward were followed by frantic phone calls from worried family, friends and co-workers. I was so relieved to learn that all of my co-workers survived and that other friends who worked in the towers also survived. Even so, I think I cried more tears in the past six months than I cried in my entire life and it took weeks before I could fall asleep before the sun came up. Like so many others, I became hyper-vigilant -- getting up and checking the planes flying overhead even when there werent any. Its taking a long time to get over what happened, but what precedent is there for getting over something like this?
There isnt a word to describe that day. There isnt one word that encompasses horror, grief, fear, anxiety and anger. Someone would have to invent a new word to describe the events of September 11th. But, sometimes simplicity says it all. Within a few days after the attack, someone stenciled something on the sidewalks around my neighborhood. One of the spots where the comment was stenciled was the spot where I had been standing that morning when I heard about the plane crashing into Tower One. Its still there, but its slowly fading away with time. In red, white and blue lettering it says:
WTC
RIP
Its a small epitaph for skyscrapers that once seemed so indestructible and for the thousands of lives that were lost in them. Its a simple epitaph - one that says it all - written on the sidewalks of New York because there arent enough words to inscribe in stone, or a grave large enough to hold everything that died that day.
Im writing this on the first day of spring, 2002. Everything is starting to bloom again and I usually take great comfort in seeing things come back to life after winter. But we didnt have much of a winter this year and I wish we had. Somehow I feel that a drastic change of season - one with lots of snow and freezing temperatures would have provided a physical and emotional detachment from what happened. But its been relatively mild - deceptively so for winter - like that day that started out so beautifully in September 2001.
Marguerite Degnan
I was leaving my house to go to work at Two World Trade Center and just as I turned the key in the lock on my front door a very low flying jet went over my house. I remember thinking that the jet was flying way too low for Manhattan as it rumbled loudly overhead. But, like a true New Yorker, I just shook off the experience and proceeded to go to work exiting through the garden in the back of my building. As I stepped into the garden, my first thought was what a beautiful a day it was. The sky was clear and the air was dry -- very nice for a late summer morning. September 11th is my niece Debbies birthday and I was thinking about the plans we made to celebrate. I was approaching Second Avenue and 11th Street when I noticed a group of people on the corner talking excitedly. One of them was flailing his arms around and pointing to the sky. I wondered what was going on, but again, like a true New Yorker, I decided to mind my own business and continue on to work. As I stood on the corner and waited for the light to change I heard one member of the group mention the World Trade Center. Hearing that, I turned and asked him what happened and he said that a jet just crashed into the World Trade Center. He described how he watched the troubled plane flying over our neighborhood and that it was bobbing up and down and its wings were tipping from side to side.
I couldnt believe what I just heard so I started walking south on Second Avenue to see if I could see anything and thats when I saw thick black smoke pouring out of the top of Tower One. For a split second I was torn between going to work or turning around and going home. In the confusion of the moment I didnt know what to do, so I went into a local deli where the radio was on and the reporter confirmed what my eyes saw but my mind did not want to believe. I started walking back home in tears saying Oh, my God over and over again.
Back in my apartment, I put the TV on and began to watch the rest of the horrors of that day play out. I watched as Two World Trade Center exploded. My first thought was that it was related to the first crash. It just seemed logical -- what else could it be? But when it was confirmed that a second plane hit Tower Two, I, like everyone else, knew that we were under attack. I saw that the plane hit above the 80th floor and I was praying that everyone in my office got out in time. I was trying to remember all of our early birds - employees who came to work before 9:15 a.m. After that, I remember thinking that I could never go back into that building again, and that I hoped my firm wouldnt go back. We had survived the bombing in 1993 and now this. Thats two more attacks than I could stand. Fifty-three minutes later it was a moot point. The building where I spent 10 years of my life began crumbling into dust. As I watched the dust cloud I remember thinking that what I was seeing wasnt really happening and that when the dust cleared my tower would still be there. The reality of what followed was one of the most traumatic experiences of my life. It was gone. And then the other was gone and it was only 10:30 a.m. What took seven years to build was gone in 1 hour and forty-five minutes.
The hours and days afterward were followed by frantic phone calls from worried family, friends and co-workers. I was so relieved to learn that all of my co-workers survived and that other friends who worked in the towers also survived. Even so, I think I cried more tears in the past six months than I cried in my entire life and it took weeks before I could fall asleep before the sun came up. Like so many others, I became hyper-vigilant -- getting up and checking the planes flying overhead even when there werent any. Its taking a long time to get over what happened, but what precedent is there for getting over something like this?
There isnt a word to describe that day. There isnt one word that encompasses horror, grief, fear, anxiety and anger. Someone would have to invent a new word to describe the events of September 11th. But, sometimes simplicity says it all. Within a few days after the attack, someone stenciled something on the sidewalks around my neighborhood. One of the spots where the comment was stenciled was the spot where I had been standing that morning when I heard about the plane crashing into Tower One. Its still there, but its slowly fading away with time. In red, white and blue lettering it says:
WTC
RIP
Its a small epitaph for skyscrapers that once seemed so indestructible and for the thousands of lives that were lost in them. Its a simple epitaph - one that says it all - written on the sidewalks of New York because there arent enough words to inscribe in stone, or a grave large enough to hold everything that died that day.
Im writing this on the first day of spring, 2002. Everything is starting to bloom again and I usually take great comfort in seeing things come back to life after winter. But we didnt have much of a winter this year and I wish we had. Somehow I feel that a drastic change of season - one with lots of snow and freezing temperatures would have provided a physical and emotional detachment from what happened. But its been relatively mild - deceptively so for winter - like that day that started out so beautifully in September 2001.
Marguerite Degnan
NMAH Story: Life Changed
I now live more in the moment. I don't take anything for granted. The ugliness of the events of September 11th has given me a greater appreciation for beauty - the beauty of nature, the beauty of creativity, art, culture and the higher realms of man's nature. I think that's why so many people went to museums and shows after September 11th. They remind us of how close to angels we can be.
NMAH Story: Remembered
How every day, no matter how ordinary it may seem, is really extraordinary. If you leave your house in the morning, go through your daily routine and then rest your head on your pillow at the end of the day and go to sleep, that's an extraordinary day.
NMAH Story: Flag
I didn't fly a flag, but I wore an American flag pin.
Citation
“nmah5475.xml,” September 11 Digital Archive, accessed June 25, 2024, https://911digitalarchive.org/items/show/40282.