9.11.01 I was sitting in the "closet" of the classroom of my history teacher, Mr. Ford, taking a test. I came out to ask a question and saw all eyes of my peers glued to the tv as we all watched the second plane fly into the World Trade Center. I'll be honest. I didn't understand what was going on at first. In fact, I asked Mr. Ford what historic movie they were watching. Well, it wasn't a movie at all, rather, it was history in the making.
I remember walking around the rest of that day in a stupor amongst my peers. As a freshman in high school I didn't really know what the WTC was. I simply knew that many lives had been lost, terrorists had attacked us on our own soil, and that I was in shock. I had a lot of questions. Would we go to war? Were there more attacks coming? How did this happen? How can I help?
As the days and weeks rolled by I joined the rest of humanity around the world watching footage of real life heroes sorting through the rubble, saving lives and listening to stories of those who lost loved ones in the attacks and those who by some miracle were able to survive. For a brief moment in time it was as if the world worked as one trying to figure out how to move forward while still dangling in shock.
I remember stories of friends in London who after the attacks were unable to fly home and had no place to stay. British men and women were calling the American Embassy offering their homes to stranded Americans. People were opening their doors to complete strangers and sharing everything they had.
I remember flying into New York City on 10.11.01 exactly one month after the attacks. My whole family had bought tickets to fly to the city and then drive out to Woodstock for my cousin's wedding. Hesitant to fly, we were packed with Xanax, just in case. We arrived at LGA and exited with our bags in hand to catch a cab. And then, it was as if everything just STOPPED and time moved in slow motion. A fire truck drove past filled with firemen dressed up in suits, not their normal gear. They were on their way downtown to listen to Rudy Giuliani's speech that was starting in just a few hours.
Images flashed through my head of what I had scene on the tv in the past month, but here, right here in front of me were men and women who rushed in to help and they were real heroes. I wanted to stand there and just start clapping for them and never stop as if to say "thank you." Thank you for your sleepless nights and countless hours to try to help just that one last person that could be found. Thank you for your service. Instead, they passed so fast that all I could manage was a wave and a smile. They waved and smiled back. I've never felt such gratitude for complete strangers. It was a feeling I can't forget.
That trip to New York was certainly unlike any other I'd experienced. The whole trip was unique - from Anthrax being found at the NBC studios the same morning that we took a tour of the studios, to being barricaded in our street with no exit because of a supposed bomb threat on the bus in front of our hotel and police didn't want anyone to leave until they had thoroughly investigated, to having a pipe thrown at our car from the roof of an old building in the Bronx hitting just below the window and causing quite a scare, to the most unique experience of all - going down as close to Ground Zero as we could.
By this point they had opened up the chapel by Ground Zero to just a few people at a time who were allowed to pay their respects and leave presents or notes. There were guards, policemen, military men, and firemen everywhere. The line was so long that half the people would never make it to the chapel by the time they would ask everyone to go home. For some reason, out of this long crowd of people a young army man approached me in line and asked if I would like to be escorted to the chapel to leave the notes I had brought with me. Knowing I was coming to New York, and hoping I would be able to leave notes of love and appreciation for all who were working so hard my mother thought it would be a good idea to not just bring my own note, but to bring notes from all my classmates as well. The nice young man escorted me over to the chapel where I then found a place to lay all of the notes and cards. He told me that they appreciated the words of support because it helped them to carry on in such a difficult work. As I walked away to return to my family, I watched some of the workers stop and read each letter. I was humbled and learned a lot that day. I learned the power of kind words and support - not just to those men and women in that moment, but to men and women anywhere.
As we walked around the surrounding area most of the people around us still had face masks on and most of the shops were abandoned as their store windows lay covered in ash.
We passed a firehouse with a large banner which read, "WE WILL LEAVE THE LIGHT ON FOR YOU" and had pictures of those in their department who were still missing.
It was an experience I will never forget.
As I reflect on these memories I am filled with a lot of thoughts and emotions.
Humbled that life can change in an instant and one moment without warning.
Grateful that in these moments we can see the people's ability to love and help complete strangers. To be united in our care and concern for our fellow men.
Grateful for the real heroes who risked their lives to help those in need and those who continue to do so this day.
Remembering the impact of a kind, encouraging word.
Renewed understanding that each moment is precious and to enjoy it, help others, love your family and friends, and try to be a good person. We are all imperfect. We all have traits that may annoy others, but when it comes down to it, we are all just trying to do the best that we can with what we know. Remember this. And love everyone.
Love for those who lost loved ones when their lives were changed forever.
We will Never Forget.
