By the end of the day most people had seen the images of the planes crashing into the World Trade Center at least once. Being an early riser I saw the whole ugly episode unfold from the beginning. At first I thought I was watching a movie, but as the newscaster kept replaying the crash and my coffee began to kick in, I dawned on me it was real. A plane had actually crashed into the tower! My dad was a vice president of an insurance company located on the 58th floor of the second tower. But, the company also maintained several offices in the first tower. The first tower now ablaze, mortally wounded with a plane in it’s belly. Over the years I had met many of his co-workers that worked in the first tower. I watched the television completely helpless to do anything for them but witness their tragedy. Every prayer I ever knew was repeated in rapid succession but they stopped as a second plane hit the other tower. This was not the answer I intended. My dad was in the second tower and I knew he was at his desk because he was always there and he was always early.
I had to talk to my sister. I woke her up and we made plans to coordinate our contacts and try to get hold of our parents. Calls to New York weren’t getting though. Already the phone lines were flooded with people needing to know what is happening in New York City. Being unable to get through by phone surprised me. It was still early morning, only 20 minutes had passed since the initial plane crash. How could the phone lines be overburdened like it was Mother’s Day or Christmas? The old saying is “no news is good news”. I can tell you no news can also lead to panic. I was mesmerized by the images flashing across my television screen. I recall being scared. I wonder if being scared makes you helpless, or being helpless makes you scared. I know it's harder to be left behind and I was very afraid of being left behind.
The images on the television continued to deteriorate, people choosing their means of death, jumping out of buildings for a few last moments of freedom rather than accepting the claustrophobia from the fires of hell closing in. Finally, about 10 a.m., my mother called. My dad had made it out of the tower that now lay as rubble and walked the few blocks home.
I learned later that there were frequently false fire alarms and that most the people in the towers were annoyed at being evicted so early by another "false alarm". My dad had traveled down to the 23rd floor stairwell when he was told the alarm a false one and that he should return to his office. But the crashing noises around him made him pause. Before heading back up he called company employees located in the other tower. The people in the first tower were told by the fire department to stay where they were. The fire was below them and when the fire was out they would be rescued. My dad, because he was closer to the ground than his office opted to continue on to the lobby area. Dad was able to make it out of the towers, but the 200 people who where told to stay where they were until the fire was out did not.
It is almost 5 years since 9/11 and there are requests for money to build a memorial to those who died. I am grieved by those who died but I would much rather recall the living. Yes, America was the object of a terrorist attack on that day and it was a terrible thing. But, I cannot help but think of others who live with terrorism on a daily basis. There are 60,000 dead in Iraq, there are 5,000 dead in Lebannon. There were thousands who died in the bombing of London in WWII, and millions of Jews and Gypsies killed under Stalin and Hitler. America has been spared that. We have been so very lucky not to have war and the threat of war on our soil in the modern era. A memorial should be build not to remind us of death, but to rejoice in how lucky we are. We are able to live in peace, work and become prosperous. We can raise our children knowing they will live to see adulthood. I will not donate to the 9/11 memorial. Instead I will send a contribution to Doctors Without Borders in hopes that they can make life a little better for someone. 9/11 was one of the worst days of my life. Whenever I give money to various organizations that help the living, I think of those who perished on 9/11. It is my memorial to them, hopefully I have their approval. I like to think so.
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