story909.xml
Title
story909.xml
Source
born-digital
Media Type
story
Date Entered
2002-07-18
911DA Story: Story
I am a teacher in high school and in college. Enclosed you will find some happy stories. You may read the first one at:
http://nysut.org/newyorkteacher/index.html (October 10 edition - Letters to the editor)
9/11: Yearbook?s prophetic words become a prayer
As the towers of The World Trade Center began to collapse, my thoughts turned to those who were dying right there and then. I imagined the two buildings to be like those flowers that close at night, engulfing the thousands of lives that one day -I am sure - will become the seeds of a new time in our history. The events unfolded in front of me, in the company of my students. As the buildings fell I started to ask God, to beg Him, to demand of Him, that
everyone around the area should be pushed as far away as possible from there. Suddenly I realized that one of those could be John, one of my former
students. He had given me his business card with the World Trade Center as
his address. Now my prayer was more personal.
I kept asking God to push John to safety along with everybody else. The day moved along according to the news heard hour after hour after hour. Time didn't matter that Tuesday. I kept praying all day long, hoping to hear that everyone had been evacuated before the collapse, and wondering why in my mind the word "push" had been repeated so many times.
After hugging my wife and my two sons that afternoon I looked out my bedroom window. Our Twin Towers were no longer there. I wanted to write a poem. Words failed in the attempt. Now I was on a mission: I needed to find John. The first place to check was the yearbook of his high school graduation.
I stared at his photograph, said another prayer, and looked up the names of classmates who could give me information about him. Next was the Internet. I e-mailed as many former students as I could, called others on the phone,went to the Web site of the high school, posted a message for all alumni to read, and waited for replies. Over the next couple of days I did receive answers from several people, but no information about John.
No one had his phone number either. Twice I called the emergency information number for the company where he works. They could only tell me that there had been contact with him. Hospitals did not have his name. Finally after a few days I was able to get in touch with the mother of one of his classmates who gave me John's phone number. He was alive and well. I thanked God, made the phone call, and spoke with his mother. He was visiting and consoling his girlfriend. Her father was among the missing.
Later that evening I spoke with John. There were tears, moments of silence, and my question: "How did you leave the area?" His answer was: "I was literally pushed by hundreds of people fleeing the place. I knew that my girlfriend's father and others close to me were inside the building. People kept pushing me away and inside a subway station, where I took an uptown train. On my way out of the disaster area I began to reflect on the tragedy, and I thought about the quote I wrote to you in the high school yearbook. Have you read it lately?"
I opened the year book to his page and read: "Thank you for pushing me, even
when I didn't want to move." One intellectual push in high school, one spiritual push away from death. Miracles do happen.
John was my student in high school. He graduated in 1993.
10/11: A ?suspicious? envelope from England
I Got a "suspicious" envelope: Oversized, from England, no sender, two types of writing and of ink...... Rosa, my wife, said to me: "You have two choices: Call the FBI or bring it to the precinct." I sent my family to the living room, put on my cleaning, blue rubber gloves, industrial goggles, surgical mask....I opened the envelope, got seven papers out with Rosa's tweezers....." Good, no anthrax. But is it possible that I might be the one to deliver messages from terrorists to Bush, the Mayor, and....?"
I Read the first one and started to cry; then the second, and the third......... They were letters written by children from Surrey, England. Their teacher had read "The Yearbook Quote" to them, and they decided to tell me that more than ever they now believed in the power of prayer, and that I should write back. I did. I sent them letters with photos of sunsets, and of course with the World Trade Center in all its glory. To the teacher, Mrs. Marian Rose, I sent a photo of two sunsets: One taken on Monday, September 10 (How beautiful and special that one was), and the second one taken on Tuesday, September 11 (Smoke traveling south for miles, that gap, that void, all those souls......).
If only those nice kids and their teacher had seen me dressed as an extraterrestrial as I opened their beautiful notes.
11/11: John Lentini?s reply to my students? letters addressed to him
Querido Juanito, what a beautiful letter you have written to my students. I remember how well you used to write in high school. This is a masterpiece! I can't wait to read it in all my classes next week. When all is said and done, what really matters is how we love and help each other. Those students have contributed a bit by sharing their thoughts and feelings with you. And you know how proud I am of you. I am inspired by your fortitude of spirit, and by your courage in helping others who are suffering as much as you. I used to tell your class that I always try to learn from my students. Thank you for teaching me the value of time spent with loved ones and of being grateful for every moment of my life.
And the latest is the following; Last week I went to get a haircut. Joe, the barber, was concerned about me: I had not been there since the beginning of September. They had lost three clients at the WTC. As he began his routine, his conversation went like this: "There are nice stories also. You'll appreciate this one because you are a teacher. One of my clients came here a few weeks ago. I asked him why he wasn't working. He replied that his office had been located at the WTC. That Tuesday, September 11, one of his very close friends went to the office while he went to the gym. When he came out, ready to go to work, he was PUSHED by hundreds of people........."
I don't know if Joe finished what he was doing, because I jumped out of the chair and yelled: "My student, John". I ran out to my car to get the 1993 yearbook. I needed to show him proof of why I was on the verge of tears. Tears of joy, of unity, tears that wanted to translate the emotions that all Americans are feeling for one another ever since that Tuesday. I happened to have the book with me because I had taken it to school. The librarian had printed the article for another publication and wanted to scan that page of the yearbook. Joe, Frank, his son Frankie, everyone at the barber shop were speechless. I think I paid for my haircut. I left that barber shop on Union Turnpike with a very special joy in my heart.
Juanito: My prayers and thoughts are with you. Let me know how you are now, and if there is anything you need.
Un abrazo de tu amigo Alberto.
Thanksgiving 2001: A note to all who had lost loved ones before 9/11
Our human minds, our human feelings, our contact with time and space, our sadness, our fears and anguish...They all contribute to a very limited vision of something more important: A plan that has been designed without human words, without calendars, without anything imperfect. One day God, Omniscient and Eternal, decided to take George, my friend and hero, from this earth. Years have passed. I have asked many questions: Why George, why at that age, why that year. "Why" is a very human word, one that sometimes impedes our search for perfection. George's earthly departure has given me moments of great memories, of a good example to follow, of tears, of unanswered questions. And just when I thought I had to keep on demanding an answer to my human emotions, September 11, 2001, happened. That Tuesday, as all of us on earth watched those heroes ascend to their eternal dwelling, I received my answer. It was simple and grandiose, so far removed from my personal reasoning, so very real. God had decided that my friend George should be one of those persons to welcome all the heroes of September 11. That is why he was taken from us.
Until that day I had wanted George to be alive so that he could accomplish more human deeds. How limited my expectations were. They were very much terrestrial. The Divine plan for George was glorious, eternal, and in accordance to his character and soul. All those who left spouses, children, parents and friends, found eternal peace upon being greeted by George's open arms and smile. Today, Thanksgiving 2001, I am grateful to God for selecting my hero for this mission. I will stop questioning God's design. George's quest in life was to help others. His dreams went beyond the limits of his terrestrial journey. They were fulfilled when he opened the doors of eternity to the thousands of souls of The World Trade Center. HAPPY THANKSGIVING.
12/28: Ground Zero
Today my wife and I made a pilgrimage to the place where the World Trade Center once existed, and where thousands of people used to spend part of their daily lives. Many of them are no longer with us. I prayed, I cried. We went inside St. Peter's Church. I imagined the moment when that great Franciscan priest was brought to the altar, his body already dead. I stared at a firefighter who, taking a break from his mission, was seating on the steps of St. Paul's Chapel. There I wrote a note of love and hope for all humanity, and signed it Rosa and Alberto. I took many pictures, many of an empty space in the sky. What did I want to accomplish by taking photographs of a very cold winter afternoon, of space and some clouds? God knows. Last summer I spent a whole afternoon showing some relatives the beauty of that place, the productive lives of those who were there, the nearby buildings, the palm trees in the Winter Garden, the marina, the esplanade... How proud I was to show the magnificence of that area to my relatives. Today I went to the marina, empty and cold. I walked along the esplanade, silent and deserted. How strange that, for the first time, and without the World Trace Center as my point of reference, I didn't get lost around that area of New York. This time I was more proud than ever to be there: Proud to be a New Yorker, proud to be American, proud to share the pain of thousands more, proud to have visited a shrine to the martyrs of 9/11. There was a moment when, upon seeing several teenagers weep, I wanted to say a special prayer for those who were my students, for the one who died and for the one who is alive. But their individual names took a while to come to mind. I could see their faces, Sylvia's and John's, but their names were the names of all the students, all the colleagues, all the teachers, all the parents and children who had witnessed first hand the sufferings of that day. Why did I want to visit Ground Zero before the first snowfall? Perhaps because I didn't want to miss the scent of the area, which somehow might be different after a blanket of snow? I'm glad I went with my wife. She showed more strength than I could have ever had. I acted like a child trying to find the exact location of one building and of another. They weren't there. The memorials are forever present, New Yorkers will always be there, others will always visit, the place has been consecrated by the lives of those who perished, and my friends and my towers will always be there and forever more in my heart.
Alberto Cabra
Jericho High School
99 Cedar Swamp Road
Jericho, New York 11753
Phone: (516) 681-4100
Home:
75-34 Bell Blvd. Apt. 6E
Bayside, New York 11364
Phone: (718) 740-0082
http://nysut.org/newyorkteacher/index.html (October 10 edition - Letters to the editor)
9/11: Yearbook?s prophetic words become a prayer
As the towers of The World Trade Center began to collapse, my thoughts turned to those who were dying right there and then. I imagined the two buildings to be like those flowers that close at night, engulfing the thousands of lives that one day -I am sure - will become the seeds of a new time in our history. The events unfolded in front of me, in the company of my students. As the buildings fell I started to ask God, to beg Him, to demand of Him, that
everyone around the area should be pushed as far away as possible from there. Suddenly I realized that one of those could be John, one of my former
students. He had given me his business card with the World Trade Center as
his address. Now my prayer was more personal.
I kept asking God to push John to safety along with everybody else. The day moved along according to the news heard hour after hour after hour. Time didn't matter that Tuesday. I kept praying all day long, hoping to hear that everyone had been evacuated before the collapse, and wondering why in my mind the word "push" had been repeated so many times.
After hugging my wife and my two sons that afternoon I looked out my bedroom window. Our Twin Towers were no longer there. I wanted to write a poem. Words failed in the attempt. Now I was on a mission: I needed to find John. The first place to check was the yearbook of his high school graduation.
I stared at his photograph, said another prayer, and looked up the names of classmates who could give me information about him. Next was the Internet. I e-mailed as many former students as I could, called others on the phone,went to the Web site of the high school, posted a message for all alumni to read, and waited for replies. Over the next couple of days I did receive answers from several people, but no information about John.
No one had his phone number either. Twice I called the emergency information number for the company where he works. They could only tell me that there had been contact with him. Hospitals did not have his name. Finally after a few days I was able to get in touch with the mother of one of his classmates who gave me John's phone number. He was alive and well. I thanked God, made the phone call, and spoke with his mother. He was visiting and consoling his girlfriend. Her father was among the missing.
Later that evening I spoke with John. There were tears, moments of silence, and my question: "How did you leave the area?" His answer was: "I was literally pushed by hundreds of people fleeing the place. I knew that my girlfriend's father and others close to me were inside the building. People kept pushing me away and inside a subway station, where I took an uptown train. On my way out of the disaster area I began to reflect on the tragedy, and I thought about the quote I wrote to you in the high school yearbook. Have you read it lately?"
I opened the year book to his page and read: "Thank you for pushing me, even
when I didn't want to move." One intellectual push in high school, one spiritual push away from death. Miracles do happen.
John was my student in high school. He graduated in 1993.
10/11: A ?suspicious? envelope from England
I Got a "suspicious" envelope: Oversized, from England, no sender, two types of writing and of ink...... Rosa, my wife, said to me: "You have two choices: Call the FBI or bring it to the precinct." I sent my family to the living room, put on my cleaning, blue rubber gloves, industrial goggles, surgical mask....I opened the envelope, got seven papers out with Rosa's tweezers....." Good, no anthrax. But is it possible that I might be the one to deliver messages from terrorists to Bush, the Mayor, and....?"
I Read the first one and started to cry; then the second, and the third......... They were letters written by children from Surrey, England. Their teacher had read "The Yearbook Quote" to them, and they decided to tell me that more than ever they now believed in the power of prayer, and that I should write back. I did. I sent them letters with photos of sunsets, and of course with the World Trade Center in all its glory. To the teacher, Mrs. Marian Rose, I sent a photo of two sunsets: One taken on Monday, September 10 (How beautiful and special that one was), and the second one taken on Tuesday, September 11 (Smoke traveling south for miles, that gap, that void, all those souls......).
If only those nice kids and their teacher had seen me dressed as an extraterrestrial as I opened their beautiful notes.
11/11: John Lentini?s reply to my students? letters addressed to him
Querido Juanito, what a beautiful letter you have written to my students. I remember how well you used to write in high school. This is a masterpiece! I can't wait to read it in all my classes next week. When all is said and done, what really matters is how we love and help each other. Those students have contributed a bit by sharing their thoughts and feelings with you. And you know how proud I am of you. I am inspired by your fortitude of spirit, and by your courage in helping others who are suffering as much as you. I used to tell your class that I always try to learn from my students. Thank you for teaching me the value of time spent with loved ones and of being grateful for every moment of my life.
And the latest is the following; Last week I went to get a haircut. Joe, the barber, was concerned about me: I had not been there since the beginning of September. They had lost three clients at the WTC. As he began his routine, his conversation went like this: "There are nice stories also. You'll appreciate this one because you are a teacher. One of my clients came here a few weeks ago. I asked him why he wasn't working. He replied that his office had been located at the WTC. That Tuesday, September 11, one of his very close friends went to the office while he went to the gym. When he came out, ready to go to work, he was PUSHED by hundreds of people........."
I don't know if Joe finished what he was doing, because I jumped out of the chair and yelled: "My student, John". I ran out to my car to get the 1993 yearbook. I needed to show him proof of why I was on the verge of tears. Tears of joy, of unity, tears that wanted to translate the emotions that all Americans are feeling for one another ever since that Tuesday. I happened to have the book with me because I had taken it to school. The librarian had printed the article for another publication and wanted to scan that page of the yearbook. Joe, Frank, his son Frankie, everyone at the barber shop were speechless. I think I paid for my haircut. I left that barber shop on Union Turnpike with a very special joy in my heart.
Juanito: My prayers and thoughts are with you. Let me know how you are now, and if there is anything you need.
Un abrazo de tu amigo Alberto.
Thanksgiving 2001: A note to all who had lost loved ones before 9/11
Our human minds, our human feelings, our contact with time and space, our sadness, our fears and anguish...They all contribute to a very limited vision of something more important: A plan that has been designed without human words, without calendars, without anything imperfect. One day God, Omniscient and Eternal, decided to take George, my friend and hero, from this earth. Years have passed. I have asked many questions: Why George, why at that age, why that year. "Why" is a very human word, one that sometimes impedes our search for perfection. George's earthly departure has given me moments of great memories, of a good example to follow, of tears, of unanswered questions. And just when I thought I had to keep on demanding an answer to my human emotions, September 11, 2001, happened. That Tuesday, as all of us on earth watched those heroes ascend to their eternal dwelling, I received my answer. It was simple and grandiose, so far removed from my personal reasoning, so very real. God had decided that my friend George should be one of those persons to welcome all the heroes of September 11. That is why he was taken from us.
Until that day I had wanted George to be alive so that he could accomplish more human deeds. How limited my expectations were. They were very much terrestrial. The Divine plan for George was glorious, eternal, and in accordance to his character and soul. All those who left spouses, children, parents and friends, found eternal peace upon being greeted by George's open arms and smile. Today, Thanksgiving 2001, I am grateful to God for selecting my hero for this mission. I will stop questioning God's design. George's quest in life was to help others. His dreams went beyond the limits of his terrestrial journey. They were fulfilled when he opened the doors of eternity to the thousands of souls of The World Trade Center. HAPPY THANKSGIVING.
12/28: Ground Zero
Today my wife and I made a pilgrimage to the place where the World Trade Center once existed, and where thousands of people used to spend part of their daily lives. Many of them are no longer with us. I prayed, I cried. We went inside St. Peter's Church. I imagined the moment when that great Franciscan priest was brought to the altar, his body already dead. I stared at a firefighter who, taking a break from his mission, was seating on the steps of St. Paul's Chapel. There I wrote a note of love and hope for all humanity, and signed it Rosa and Alberto. I took many pictures, many of an empty space in the sky. What did I want to accomplish by taking photographs of a very cold winter afternoon, of space and some clouds? God knows. Last summer I spent a whole afternoon showing some relatives the beauty of that place, the productive lives of those who were there, the nearby buildings, the palm trees in the Winter Garden, the marina, the esplanade... How proud I was to show the magnificence of that area to my relatives. Today I went to the marina, empty and cold. I walked along the esplanade, silent and deserted. How strange that, for the first time, and without the World Trace Center as my point of reference, I didn't get lost around that area of New York. This time I was more proud than ever to be there: Proud to be a New Yorker, proud to be American, proud to share the pain of thousands more, proud to have visited a shrine to the martyrs of 9/11. There was a moment when, upon seeing several teenagers weep, I wanted to say a special prayer for those who were my students, for the one who died and for the one who is alive. But their individual names took a while to come to mind. I could see their faces, Sylvia's and John's, but their names were the names of all the students, all the colleagues, all the teachers, all the parents and children who had witnessed first hand the sufferings of that day. Why did I want to visit Ground Zero before the first snowfall? Perhaps because I didn't want to miss the scent of the area, which somehow might be different after a blanket of snow? I'm glad I went with my wife. She showed more strength than I could have ever had. I acted like a child trying to find the exact location of one building and of another. They weren't there. The memorials are forever present, New Yorkers will always be there, others will always visit, the place has been consecrated by the lives of those who perished, and my friends and my towers will always be there and forever more in my heart.
Alberto Cabra
Jericho High School
99 Cedar Swamp Road
Jericho, New York 11753
Phone: (516) 681-4100
Home:
75-34 Bell Blvd. Apt. 6E
Bayside, New York 11364
Phone: (718) 740-0082
Collection
Citation
“story909.xml,” September 11 Digital Archive, accessed January 10, 2025, https://911digitalarchive.org/items/show/9605.