story14.xml

story14.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2002-01-29

I was on the telephone with a parent when I saw the rest of our staff gathered around our television set. When I finished my call, I went to where everyone was standing and was told that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. Most, if not all of us, thought it was an accident but within a few minutes the second plane went into the second building and we all know the we were under attack. After the initial shock, my thoughts quickly centered on my daughter Michele who works two blocks from where the planes hit. I called her office and was told she had not arrived. I tried to remain calm but I began praying and hoping that she was okay. Was she hit by the falling pieces of the plane or the building? I called my youngest daughter who worked on the 45th floor of the first building until a year and one-half ago when she took a position in mid-town. Christine couldn't reach Michele either. I called Michele's office a second time and was told she had just arrived.

She was in tears as she spoke to me of what she had seen,
especially the people falling or jumping out of the upper floors. As I was trying to comfort her, she said that there was a tremendous noise and that a third plane was
hitting the buildings. This, of course, was the first building collapsing. At this point she asked me what
should she do. I was afraid to tell her to leave her
office and run to the Brooklyn Bridge to try to get to our
home in Queens because I was afraid the second building would collapse on her. I also didn't want to advise her to
stay in her office for fear that her 4 or 5 story building
might crumble from the impact of the second building
falling. Somehow I know it was going down as well.

I suggested that she try to remain calm, go outside and try
to get some direction from a policeman or fireman. I asked
that she call me back to let me know what she was doing.
It was about 30-40 minutes before I heard from her. She
was fine. She had gone outside where some firemen were
ushering people back into the basement of her building. They knew or sensed that the second building was going down
and wanted to protect people in the best way they knew
how. Michele said that the basement was rumbling as the
building fell, but that it was able to withstand the shock.
She said she was going to try to make it to the Bridge but might not be able to call me for a while.

Meanwhile back at our school I tried going into the halls
and comforting some of the students who were upset. One of my seniors was visibly concerned because his mom had
dropped him off before 8 a.m. on her way to a meeting at
the trade center. He couldn't reach her on her cell phone. The parents of many of our students came to pick
them up, but many also remained and talked with their friends while watching the events in New York, Washington
and Pennsylvania on television. I announced to as many as I could reach that I was available if any one wanted to talk
or use my telephone to reach a loved one

All the while, however, I kept thinking of Michele. Was she okay? When would she get home? When would I hear from her? Christine told me she was going to walk over the 59th Street Bridge. My middle daughter Diane is a nurse at a hospital in Queens. I couldn't contact her but knew that she would be on call for the injured. Every time I thought about the dead and injured, especially the heroic firemen,
tears came to my eyes. I was supposed to be strong and
comforting and be helping others. I tried but was also
shocked and frightened about the safety of my family and
fellow New Yorkers.

I left school about one-half hour early and had to take the Tappan Zee Bridge because all the other bridges were closed for emergency vehicles. It took me about three and one-
half hours, about one and one-half hours on the bridge
alone to get home. Even though they are in their twenties, I always hug and kiss my daughters when coming or going but I never hugged them the way I did that night.

The next morning I got up hoping that this had all been a bad dream, but it wasn't. We all went to church and prayed and cried a little more.

I pray each day for the victims on the plane, in the building and on the ground and for the heroic firefighters, policemen and emergency workers who lost their lives trying to help them. I pray for their families and friends . God
bless you and America. We will never forget you, especially the 19 firemen from my local firehouse in Maspeth, Queens, New York City who lost their lives.