nmah2713.xml

nmah2713.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2002-09-10

I sat in the conference room with my colleagues at 8:50 am and was told by one of the principals of my company that a small commuter plane had struck the World Trade Center. After our meeting, around 9:30 am, I quickly went to the internet, which was moving at a snail's pace. Suddenly, on a news website, I saw the picture of the towers burning. One of my co-workers shouted, "My God, another plane hit!" I immediately thought of my father and my sister's fiance, both of whom work at 101 Barclay Street across from the South Tower. I said to myself, "They'll get the fire out, it'll be all right...but some people are already dead." I began hearing my co-workers talk about bomb scares at the Capitol, a commuter plane being shot down near Camp David, and another plane striking the Pentagon...and they all culminated into the one word that conveyed the ugly truth of these events: terrorism. I switched back to the net news, and saw one tower was gone! By 10:30, they were both gone...completely and utterly gone. At around 12:30 pm, I had to go out into the field...and that involved negotiating some traffic. I went out on Route 3 eastbound, and was quickly passed up by over a dozen fire trucks, rescue vehicles, convoys of police cars, and ambulances, sirens wailing as loud as they could go. In the distance, I saw a massive gray cloud over Manhattan Island...like the eruption of a huge volcano has doused downtown in an ashen darkness. I went to my site, and could already hear military helicopters, news helicopters, and fighter jets soaring overhead. I listened intently to the news, wondering if even the news reporters could contemplate what had just happened. Around 1:15, I drove down Schuyler Avenue past the Hudson County Landfill, which overlooks the Hudson River and Manhattan...and I saw it up-close. Several bystanders watched in absolute awe, some standing on their cars, as the fires raged downtown and the smoke stretched all the way to Brooklyn. Tears welled up in my eyes, and my stomach churned at the thought of so much death. Before leaving, I called my wife, telling her that I was all right...she had been watching the whole thing on television. To a person who had just immigrated to this country a month ago, this was horrible - to think she was 3 miles as the crow flies from the worst terrorist attack on American soil in history. She told me, "I want to go home" (meaning back to Britain). That hurt me even more. I eventually got a hold of my mother, who informed me that my father had made it out of downtown Manhattan before the first tower fell...he told me he watched people fall, saw bodies on the ground sprawled all over, blackened faces of burn victims, and men and women screaming on the upper floors of Tower 2, running around with their bodies wrapped in shrouds of flame. He said, "God, take care of those people." 20 seconds later, the tower fell. When I got home around 6:30 pm, one hour after 7 WTC fell and damaged my father's building, I saw him. He was sunburned, his hair a bit dusty, and his eyes bloodshot from walking from Liberty Street to Pier 31, then from Weehawken to Hoboken where he had parked his car. Mind you, he's 51 and an ex-smoker (well, not anymore after that day). I hugged him and cried my heart out.

Yes. I have become closer to my father because I was spared the agony of losing him. He is fighting Post Traumatic Stress Disorder with a combination of medicine and therapy, along with the family love that we have for each other. I am blessed that he was spared, and I am lucky to have him as a closer part of my life. I now feel that I cannot, and dare not, take anything or anyone for granted, because it may not be there tomorrow. A friend of mine lost his cousin, another his wife, a third his uncle, who was the pilot of the second plane to hit the towers. These suffering friends...and the family and friends of the 2,801 souls delivered to God that day...they are the people I cry for.

The generosity of Americans, who unfortunately only seem to come out during times of great need. I think this should teach people to give selflessly 24/7/365, and to not wait until some great natural or national disaster to offer help to those in need (e.g. waiting until 9/11 to line up around the corner to give blood instead of doing that many months ago when the Red Cross was screaming "blood shortage"). We should remember the people who opened their hearts and, with their rhetoric and their loving actions, our minds; we should give no heed to the narrow-minded, closeted bigots who were so ready to destroy "the enemy." The enemy killed himself on September 11, himself and many others. We should also remember that vengeance is bittersweet, and to rise above the ashes of destruction of that fateful day, we should instead proclaim with a voice of peace, the words of the Scottish hero William Wallace (paraphrased in the movie Braveheart): "...they may take our lives, but they'll never take our freedom."

I have been flying the American flag in my heart since long before September 11th. No, my feelings have not changed about the flag...it is still a symbol of a good democratic government, but my feelings have not changed. I still disagree with many of the policies of our government that, perhaps, may have brought us to the events of 9/11. I disagree with the pandering of political officials, who sat idly by wheedling the special interests while the terrorists schemed in dark corners to plot this country's demise (and failed miserably, mind you). I disagree with the commercialism that has sprouted up as a result of this tragedy. I disagree with the "anti-Islam" rhetoric that has cropped up as a result of that day's events. What I do agree with is generosity, peace, togetherness, understanding, and love...and they were all represented by the good people of this country the day after and every day since. I am a proud American, first generation of a family of Italian and Sicilian immigrants, married to a beautiful Welsh woman, and prepared to move forward rather than look back. The towers have fallen, but lower Manhattan will be rebuilt. The Pentagon was damaged, but it will be rebuilt. The fields of Somerset Pennsylvania were scorched with the blood-infused fires of "the forgotten 40," but the grass shall grow back, greener than ever. I have moved forward from September 11, 2001, and when I fly the flag, I shall fly it because *I* am proud of it, not because society is telling me that I am obligated to do it. I shall say "God Bless America" not because it is a nice bumper-sticker slogan or because it is the "in" thing to do lest we upset the general public in a time of ultra-PC sensitivity, but because I believe in God, and I believe in America...I did before...and I shall continue to do so. Thank you.