story1835.xml

story1835.xml

born-digital

story

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no

2002-09-07

Today is Thursday, September 13, 2001 and it is ten o?clock in the evening. I have just returned home to East Sacramento from a cross country automobile journey across America?s Heartland. I am exhausted, I feel grimey, and I would dearly love to climb into my safe, warm bed and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. But, I am compelled to tell my story, the story of how one man or one group of men can cause such a deep, unrelenting pain in the hearts of so many beautiful and innocent souls throughout this country and worldwide. I am attempting to understand how an action of one can so painfully hurt those close to me, a woman who lives in East Sacramento.

My story begins on the morning of September 11, 2001 in my hotel room in Columbus, Ohio. I had finished packing for my return trip home that early afternoon and left my room to meet a colleage downstairs for a breakfast meeting. During our meal we both, coincidentally, commented on the nervousness associated with airline travel, even though both of us travel weekly by air. We were in Columbus for a conference we were invited to by a large banking client of ours, whose home offices are in the financial district of Manhattan. Jane was departing for Tampa and I for Sacramento.

As we were leaving to join the conference we overheard an employee mention that a plane had hit the WTC. We both gaped at eachother and begged the woman to get us to a television. She anxiously opened the fitness center and we immediately saw the gaping hole in the Tower #1. The three of us stood, shell-shocked as we listened to the reaction of the cameraman. Then, suddenly another plane appeared on the screen and it looked as if it were a helicopter circling the tower, that is until it went crashing through Tower #2. Live, on television, I couldn?t believe it as I covered my face in horror.

The first thought that went through my mind was: my little sister, Maggie was boarding a plane in New York that morning ? although I didn?t know what time; and that she was there visiting my brother who lives in lower Manhattan. I looked at my watch and not caring that it was 6:30 a.m. in California, made a cell phone call to my parents. I awoke my father, who was none to happy, and simply said, ?Dad, turn on the TV, there?s been a plane crash in New York. Please call me back.? And then I hung up. I then called my sister, Janette and repeated the same line.

I returned to the fitness room as others from the conference gathered there in disbelief. My friend Bill said, ?I was in that tower last Friday for a meeting.? All of us, friends and strangers alike, stood together touching shoulders, shedding tears of wonder and finally offering comfort to eachother. As I look back now it was odd inasmuch as we were business partners, not close friends. We became friends that morning.

My cell phone started ringing one moment later and didn?t stop for two days. Maggie?s flight had departed New York at 7:00 a.m. and my family had no information beyond that. My family knew I was somewhere in the east, but not precisely where, as my travel schedule is varied. My brother could not be reached by telephone. After assuring my parents that I was safe in Ohio we then attempted to locate my sister?s flight and my brother?s whereabouts. Make no mistake, we are family of endless resources. I am one of twelve children and my parents are well versed in the art of locating any of us at any given time. But this time, we were all truly frightened to our very bones. Truth be told, we were horrified for our siblings. Maggie has never flown well and does so reluctantly only when it is absolutely necessary. The same can be said for my brother Michael, although he choses to make his career in the theater and in film and is therefore forced to travel between coasts. They were together in New York to promote their new theater production, Bad Blood.

None of us knew the details of the doomed airplanes at the WTC, and by this time we had heard of the crash at the Pentagon as well but did not have details of that flight either. Being away from ones? family during a crisis, particularly when ones family is as close as mine, is excrutiatingly difficult. I knew what my parents were going through, being a parent myself. It must have been a thousand times worse for my mother, who refuses to fly and does not condone the practice of it for her children. I phoned my teenaged daughter and her father and I spoke to her together as we all watched the television. We agreed she would stay home from school that day, until we had more information about the attacks, as we were now referring to them.

We were all leaving messages for Michael and Maggie, begging them to call us back. I had such a hard time believing that even Michael (a hard sleeper) could not be awakened by the commotion at the WTC, such a short distance from his apartment. I thought I had managed to calm my mother somewhat by offering the excuse that perhaps he had taken Maggie to JFK that morning and had not returned to his apartment and now could not get there for all the confusion in the city. I?m sure she didn?t buy it; we both knew he would have sent Maggie to the airport in a hired car, as is his custom.

I felt completely and utterly helpless, and admittedly I do not handle this well, in the best of circumstances. Although I am number nine in my family, I have always and forever felt an overwhelming obligation to assure the health and safety of my seven sisters and four brothers, if I can at all control it. My parents know that they can always count on me to jump on a plane, pick someone up, take charge. This isn?t to say that my other siblings wouldn?t do the same, without the slightest hesitation, it is only to say that I have the means and the knowledge to make arrangements for any variety of situation involving the many characters of my family. I am also a single, independent woman who travels widely for my career and for pleasure and am less fazed by the day to day hassles involved in those endeavors. This is also not to say that my parents worry any less about me, in fact, they most likely worry more as I am alone.

At this time, the entire conference was breaking up and three hundred people were wondering aloud how they would return to their families, all of which were somewhere other than Columbus, Ohio. We had all flown in for this conference and it appeared none of us were going to be flying out anytime soon. Realizing the potential gravity of my personal situation, I immediately returned to my room and called three car rental agencies (as I arrived by taxi from the airport) and confirmed pick-ups at the airport, just in case.

I then received a call from my sister Katie whose husband had logged onto the internet and looked up Maggie?s flight and was informed that her flight was in route to Omaha, Nebraska on emergency landing. My father then called and we discussed the our options. I told him I had reserved three cars in Columbus and asked that his secretary continue to reserve more under my name because we were certain all cars would be taken in short order. Another sister, Katie, then arranged for hotel accomodations for Maggie in Omaha, even though we hadn?t heard from her yet but were anticipating the hotel situation in any case. We still had not received any return calls from Michael.

One of the calls I received was from my close friend, Susan, who was worried sick about me. We both sobbed a bit on the phone and reassured eachother before signing off. Susan is originally from New York and some of her family still resides there, although she lives in Sacramento now with her children. She had spoken to them and all was well. We were so grateful for our blessings and said a prayer together for Michael and Maggie. It had just been reported that the affected flights had not been a Delta flight to Salt Lake City (Maggie?s connection) so although we were all still very worried, we felt somewhat more assured. There were, however, other unaccounted for flights in the air.

Sandy called, Debbie called, Marjan called, Louis called, Katie called, Ruth called, Cindy called. So many loved ones worried about me. Jerry called, Calvin called, Mitch called, Kim called, Jeff called. Mom kept calling, Ron called, Barbara called.

Finally, Maggie called.. She was a mess, as expected, and refusing to reboard any flight, going anywhere. The pilot had diverted her flight suddenly and without warning to Omaha, citing only a ?National Emergency?. I can only imagine what thoughts would have gone through my mind during that landing. Upon her arrival in Omaha, she was given no information and there were no televisions in the terminal. She retrieved her messages and called my mother immediately. She later told me that mom?s message only said, ?Honey, we are watching the news, please call home if you can.? How scared she must have been, my mother, this eternally strong force in our family, this rock. A woman who defied physicians by having twleve cesarian births even at the risk of her own death, who had overcome an appaling childhood and moved on to passionately love our father and make a beautiful life and future for herself, her 12 children and 27 grandchildren. This woman of abundant and profound, unshakeable faith.

Then Michael called. He was shaken to his very core and very much in shock. His first and foremost concern was for his siblings, as he knew Maggie was traveling that morning (he had, in fact, put her in a hired car), and he knew I was always traveling. After being assured of our safety, he assured us of his. We all begged him to leave the city immediately and go to friends upstate. He would not hear of it. Michael is also a man of profound faith and goodness and would not leave if there existed even the smallest opportunity that he could be of assistance to his fellow man. We, of course, loved him all the more and were not in the least bit surprised. He sent us his love and went off to Ground Zero to offer himself up.

Not until I went back down to the hotel lobby did I grasp the enormity of the problem in getting back to California. I heard from at least twenty people that all the rental agencies had run out of cars and I was desparate to get to the airport to secure one of my reservations. There were no taxis available at the hotel and every single person was packing their rental cars and leaving for their homes, hugging one another, and crying for their associates in New York. Those who already had cars were just taking them and driving home and dealing with the agencies later. I was not so lucky. It figures that the one time I don?t rent a car, I need it the most. I knew, at this point, that it was fruitless to go to the airport, they had no cars left for me. To exacerbate the situation further, the hotel would not allow me to extend my stay as they were booked solid the following evening. I simply told them that I was not checking out, went back to my room and put some clothes around the room and returned back to the lobby.

Having heard that I had family in NYC and in the air, a colleague of mine offered his rental car to me as he was going to join a carpool back to Texas. I was so grateful I jumped up and hugged him with all my might. I assured him that I would call the agency and let them know I was the driver on the car and would be dropping it in Sacramento.

I ran back to my room and called my father to let him know I had secured a car and asked him let Maggie know I was on my way to Omaha to pick her up and bring her home. Well, you don?t know my father, but this was like handing him a brand new shiney gift. A Project! ?Hang on, hang on, Tish, let?s plot this out correctly. What kind of car do you have, exactly, what year? Let me get my Thomas Brothers? and we?ll map out the route.? Janette had already arrived at my parents and together they were plotting our journey back home. I have no doubt they had a United States map pinned up in the dining room with multi-colored thumbtacks stuck throughout.

I smiled on the other end of the phone and said, ?Dad, I have a car and it?s now almost noon and if I don?t get on the road I?m not going to make it there, so I?ll call you from the car. I have to go buy a car charger for my cell phone and some maps. Tell Mags to sit tight and I?ll see her soon.? I disconnected, repacked my bags and was out the door in under five minutes. On my way out to the car I saw a good friend and associate, Caren, getting into a car. I asked her if she was driving to her home in Denver and she told me she was going to get a ride to Cincinnatti to her sister?s house and await for the airports to open. I practically begged her to come with me and promised I would drop her in Denver. But, she declined and went on to her sisters. She was confident that flights would resume the following day, at the latest.

The rage didn?t hit me until I was on Route 70, heading east toward Indiana. The near uncontrollable urge to strike out at those that would attempt to cause harm to those I love struck me like a tidal wave before I made it to Springfield. I tried to remember and meditate on Michael?s words to me before I left the hotel, ?Claire honey, please be careful, please drive slowly and pull over if you get angry or emotional, please take care of yourself for all of us.? I pulled over and sat in the car in a McDonald?s trying to eliminate my rage. I didn?t know until later that such a rage cannot be eliminated, it can only be carefully controlled.

I decided to call Susan back and let her know I was on the road to Omaha. When she answered the phone my heart dropped to my knees, she was sobbing and weeping and all she could say was, ?How are you? Where are you? I?m so glad you called, I?ve been trying to reach you.?

?What happened?? I pleaded.

She would only answer with, ?Please tell me you are OK, I cannot bear to lose you now.?

?I am fine, Honey, what is it, what happened?? I begged.

?Victor was the Captain on the United Flight.?

?Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ? This is all I could think, this is all I could say. How could this happen, how could this attack touch my loved ones so closely?

Susan then explained to me that her brother-in-law had been the captain of United Flight 175 from Logan to LAX and that it had crashed into Tower #2. Though she had spoken to her sister, Ellen, that morning and had been assured by her that everyone was safe, even Ellen didn?t know that her husband of twenty years had been taken hostage, held at knife point and was forced to die in order to surrender his precious cargo. It never occurred to Ellen that her husband was in danger, not for a moment. Susan and her talked about the possibility of knowing some of the crew involved, as Victor was a veteran Captain for United, but she was certain Victor was safe, even though she hadn?t spoken to him. Ellen is also a licensed pilot who previously flew for Delta, although she no longer flies. She stays home and cares for their two daughters.

By some grace of God, Susan?s other sister was visiting Ellen and had decided to stay for the day, instead of going home first thing in the morning. When Ellen answered the door some two hours later she was surprised and pleased to see their friend, Greg, on the stoop. Greg is also a pilot for United. She was not pleased to see his companions, FAA personnel. Her good friend then told her about Victor?s death.

My reaction was one of shock and premonition. I knew in my heart, as I watch the horrifying scenes on television that morning, that we would all be personally touched by this series of events. I knew that whoever perpetrated this attack did so in order for all American?s to feel the hatred in his soul. Whoever did this would not be done until every last one of us suffered a loss.

I had no words for Sue that would help her understand her loss. Her phone was beeping through so I signed off, took a deep breath, started the car and moved on toward Indianapolis. My rage was not abated, it was further fueled, but controlled. My mission was to get to Maggie and get us home to my mother, to ease her worry, to assure her that her brood was safe.

Katie, Janette and Dad made arrangements for me that first night in Danville, Illinois so that was my goal. Dad called every hour to inquire on my progress, each time expressing disbelief that I was as far along as I was. There was no traffic, as I had expected, only a stream of rental cars with varying license plates, carrying car loads of people heading west. I had to turn off the radio because I could not see through the tears in my eyes.

Maggie called at last from her hotel room in Omaha. I assured her that I was on my way and would not be there until the next day. As we were speaking, she suddenly gasped and cried out in horror, ?Oh my God, there are fighter planes in the sky, Claire!? She was watching the planes from her window.

?What is it? What?s happening?? I yelled.

?Oh my God, it?s Air Force One!!? she screamed.

Of course, I had heard that President Bush was on his way to the SAC in Omaha, and I tried to make Maggie understand that this was a good thing. She replied with, ?I don?t want to be here when he is here, what if they bomb here?? She was, clearly, hysterical.

This was a very real fear for Maggie and for all of us. She was either in the safest place on earth or at the the center of the most likely target.

Pulling off the highway for gas in Crawfordsville, I was shocked at the lines at the pumps. I was number 14 in line and it was stretching out onto the highway. I had no idea what these people were doing buying gas and was certain it wasn?t travelers as the roads were not congested, but I had no choice but to wait in line. After an hour wait, I went in to pay for the gas and asked where all these people were going and was told that the prices of gas were going up at 6:00 p.m. to $5.50 per gallon. It was 5:45 p.m.

?Why? What?s happened?? I demanded.

?The gas price in Terre Haute is $6.00 and we are raising ours at 6:00.? The woman behind the counter responded, haughtely.

?But why? Are we out of gas, did OPEC raise their prices?? I was agast.

?Everyone needs gas now, and we?re raising our prices.?

I was completely and utterly disgusted. I expressed as much to the proprietor as I left the station.