Never Forget

9/11, The Aftermath and The Rise and Fall of Unity

Just as my parents can tell me where they were when they heard the news that Kennedy was shot, my generation can talk about where we were the moment we learned about the events that were unfolding on 9/11/01. We can remember that gorgeous late summer morning and clear, blue sky. If you lived in and around New York City it was the perfect weather; a cooler, early fall-like day. We could never have imagined what was about to unfold and how the world would change forever that morning.

I was just about 13 weeks pregnant with our first child. I left the house early and headed to the gym in town to take my very first pilates class, feeling good and determined to have a happy and healthy pregnancy. Class started at 8:00 am and I was on the mat and ready to go at 7:55. The hour went by quickly and I really enjoyed the class. I eagerly approached the instructor when it was over to tell her about my pregnancy and ask if there was anything I should know about doing pilates during pregnancy. I waited to speak to her while she talked with another instructor. I jumped right in when it was my turn and started rambling, introducing myself and asking my questions. I was a bit puzzled as she sort of looked at me blankly as I was speaking, and then said when I was done, “I’m sorry someone just told me that a plane crashed into the World Trade Center, but yes you can do pilates while you’re pregnant with a few modifications as you get bigger.”

I remember saying loudly “What?” and bolting up the steps, skipping every other one, running to the locker room to grab my things. Having lived near New York City my whole life, it was the norm that many people living in the suburbs worked in the city. My husband was one of them, his father, his brother, and many of our other family members and friends as well. Knowing this, for a moment, I couldn’t remember if my husband worked in the Trade Center or across the street. I was in panic mode. I can remember my heart racing as I ran up those steps, and my hands shaking as I tried to quickly turn the lock to enter the combination. I was literally gasping for air. It was odd but I don’t remember ever having a feeling quite like that before that moment or ever again afterwards; like something was sucking the air out of my lungs and it was hard to breathe.

My cell phone wasn’t working so I charged the front desk asking to use the phone. My husband’s work number was not in service; that fast busy signal telling me that the phone lines were down. I was finally able to reach my father in law at his home (he was semi-retired) and asked frantically if he heard from anyone, what was going on. “I heard from Chris, he was across the street (I remembered then that my husband worked across the street, not in the Trade Center) and he’s on his way home. But Tommy (his older brother) we haven’t heard from, he’s on the 104th floor.”

I ran to my car and headed home. You could actually hear sirens because many of the local fire stations were sending their trucks into the city for extra support. I listened to 95.5 WPLJ on the radio to hear the latest update. Nothing good. Terrible news. Worse than anyone could imagine. Complete and utter chaos on this beautiful morning. It was surreal. I ran in the house and called my mom first thing. I told her that Chris was ok but that Tommy was unaccounted for at this point. I put on the TV. This was the first visual I had of the events. It was mind blowing. We talked for a few minutes then hung up, just in shock and taking in the scene of destruction that was unfolding on the screen.

I watched and listened as Katie Couric narrated what we were seeing. Utter shock and dismay as we watched the black smoke billow from the buildings. In a matter of one hour, life changed from prenatal pilates to mass casualties and destruction. What I would learn later when my husband arrived home was that he heard the first plane hit as his building was right across the street. He went outside with other people to see what had happened. They thought it was an accident, that a pilot must have made a catastrophic error in judgement. After a short while, people were slowly beginning to head back into the building. My husband was reluctant and not quite ready to head back in. Within minutes, he heard the unmistakable roar of an approaching jet and looked up to see a low flying plane tear into and simultaneously explode the upper part of the second World Trade Center building.

At that point he recalls thinking that New York City was under attack and that this could be the first of many planes doing the same thing. He knew he needed to leave the city ASAP. The building was clearly on fire with black smoke thickening and growing. People were clearly trapped up there and the people down below felt helpless. My husband was making his way out of there, but was there just long enough to witness a few people at the top of the building who apparently couldn’t take the heat and were forced to jump. He saw figures dropping from up above and when he heard the sickening thud that followed, he knew they jumped to their death. It all happened so quickly, like a nightmare. He ran as fast as he could toward the ferry to get back to New Jersey and head home.

He tells the story of sitting on the ferry in shock, knowing that his brother was in the building and wondering if he should go back to try to get him out. He was talking with strangers and there was confusion but still, trying to comfort each other and make sense of what was going on. He was in a state of shock and people around him were trying to support him and each other. You could see the burning buildings as the ferry pulled away and everyone watched in horror. He remembers the moment when there was a collective cry out, people gasping in horror, which was the moment that the first building fell to the ground. He wasn’t looking at the buildings at that moment, and no one said it out loud, but he knew in his heart what must have happened. He was angry, scared, confused and shocked all at once. What a brutal and painful memory this is for him.

I couldn’t believe my own eyes when I watched the first building implode, followed by the other shortly after, right into the ground. At that moment I feared that I would never see my brother in law again. But there were moments when we had some hope, like when a friend called to say she had been calling hospitals in the city all day asking if they had a patient by his name. One said yes and we thought briefly that maybe he had survived. But the hospital confirmed shortly after that it was not him. Still, until this point in my life, I had been so lucky. All things had worked out in the end. So this must be one of those times; when it looked really bad but by the grace of God or some stroke of luck, something could have saved him.

We spent the day at Tommy’s house, seemingly waiting for him to come home perhaps? The hours went by, and we continued to watch the coverage on TV. We didn’t know what to think or what to do. The area looked like a war zone, just a disaster area after the collapse of the buildings. That sound, the chirping of the Personal Alert Safety Systems worn by firefighters that triggers when a firefighter is motionless still chills me to this day when I hear it. That area came to be known as Ground Zero, and all you saw was smoke and destruction and all you heard was that chirping sound. It was eerie and deafening.

We lived just a short drive from my brother in law, and my husband and I made our way back home right before midnight. I’m really not sure when or how we finally shut our eyes and fell asleep. But I do remember waking up with a startle just before sunrise somewhere around 6 am. The realization that the entire night passed with no phone call with good news hit me like a mack truck and I broke down into tears. I think that was the moment we both knew he wasn’t coming home.

The days that followed were filled with hours in front of the TV, at Tommy’s home, watching all the victim’s loved ones holding up those missing persons signs, holding out hope for some miracle. There were more phone calls to hospitals, many calls and visits from family and friends trying to support us, prayers and visits from people from church including sisters and priests, food deliveries from generous family, friends and neighbors. The nation as a whole came together to lend love and support as well, and we felt it and appreciated it.

One by one services were held for police and firefighters, and one by one, families of the victims who worked or were in that building that day for some reason, planned memorial services for their loved ones, and most did so without their remains. Our family planned a service as well, and this signified that there was no more hope that he would be coming home. He was a victim of 9/11.

I saw my brother in law just weeks before at a family wedding. We had just told him I was pregnant and I know he was excited for his little brother. He was still single and enjoyed spending time with his nieces and nephews. I would never have imagined that would be the last time I would see him and that he would never get to meet our child. When we found out I was having a boy at our first sonogram appointment in late October, it was bittersweet news for my husband. The emotions were difficult to handle.

I never imagined that the first time I would need to shop for maternity clothes would be for a memorial service for my 37 year old brother in law. I walked in alone and bought what I needed as I could no longer squeeze into any pants I owned at 15 weeks along. I felt a bit numb at the store, going through the motions and just trying to get out of there as quickly as possible. Not your typical first maternity clothes shopping experience and I just wanted to get it over with. I remember feeling so angry at the world walking through the mall, not yet able to comprehend or accept what had happened. If I saw anyone smiling or looking at all cheerful, I could only glare and shake my head. How could anyone be going on with life right now? I recall a woman coming up to me to spray a perfume sample and I nastily shook her off saying “Don’t you now what’s going on, I don’t want perfume!” I couldn’t help myself. I was pissed.

The day of the memorial service came. It was hot; that I remember. But again, there was some element of feeling numb. I think it was a self protective mechanism or instinct of some kind - I can’t remember many details about the service. There was a huge crowd of people. It seemed perhaps that anyone that Tommy had crossed paths with in his lifetime might have come to pay respects that day. Again, it did help us to feel loved and supported. But I’m not going to lie, it was a harrowing experience, knowing why you were there, listening to people talk about him. I don’t know how the family made it through. His parents were so strong. How do you live through losing a child? They are still alive today and have remained strong throughout all these years. Amazing.

This left a huge hole in my husband’s life. Tommy was his big brother that he idolized as a kid; his best friend that he loved spending time with. He has another brother, but if I’m being honest, it’s not the same kind of relationship and he didn’t turn out to be the pillar of support that he could have used all his life. He also has two sisters, but as a man, a sister ain’t the same as your brother; it’s just the way it is.

We decided to name our son after Tommy and believe it or not, it was a difficult decision. We knew it would be painful to call the baby by his name at first; it was like a reminder of the loss. We wanted to honor him, not replace him. For a while, we didn’t call our son by his name, which was a little odd, but we eventually got used to it and stopped using the cute little nick names we invented for him. Our new baby was a distraction and a blessing and the timing although difficult in some ways, was perhaps meant to be.

To this day, everyone remarks about how that time although tragic and awful, was a time of unity for our nation like never before. Honestly I wonder if we will ever see a time like it again. Little by little as the years have gone by, we have become a nation divided. A nation that was once so patriotic and grateful for our first responders after 9/11, bearing flag pins on lapels and hanging flags on their homes, is now one where our professional athletes refuse to stand for our national anthem and police are demonized. While I’m not exactly sure how or why this has happened, I have some thoughts and theories, but that’s for another post. Regardless, it makes me sad and while I don’t wish to go back to those post 9/11 days, I do miss that sense of unity that was palpable for some time.

I’m still the same proud American I was after that day, and stand firm in my belief more than ever that as citizens, we have rights and freedoms guaranteed to us in the Constitution that no one can take away. I vehemently disagree with what the NY Times just suggested in a recent article when they asked in the title about the Constitution, “Is it also the biggest threat to our politics?” Recently during Covid, it became painfully obvious how important it is to respect and honor our freedoms when the government was involved in censoring information, shutting businesses and pushing mandates. So I now feel stronger than I ever have about the importance of standing up for our rights and freedoms. It is incumbent upon each of us to make wise choices and elect those candidates who will respect and honor these rights and freedoms.

23 years later, we no longer live in the northeast. We just recently moved and are now living in a free state in the south. I think Covid was the catalyst for me, along with everything that has unfolded since. It is a little weird being so far away from New York City on 9/11. I’m not sure that the people here felt the loss quite the same way we did in the northeast during that time afterwards. If you lived anywhere near New York City, you were shell shocked for a long time. Everyone knew someone that died in the World Trade Center. That wasn’t the case where I live now. Nonetheless, I am living among people that for the most part, hold the same values that our family holds and have respect for our rights and freedoms as Americans.

I hope somehow we can unite like we did after 9/11. RFK spoke of this recently when he joined forces with Trump. It’s about unity and putting aside less significant grievances for the bigger picture of saving our country. I don’t feel this sentiment from those on the radical left. They have failed us and don’t deserve to be given power again for another four years. It seems they want to keep us divided. It feels like we are at risk of getting to the point of no return if we can’t change direction in the next election. RFK said it so well so I will quote him here: “Ultimately, the only thing that will save our country and our children is if we choose to love our kids more than we hate each other.”

Never forget.