It was a Tuesday – my “new” normal Tuesday after starting a new job two weeks before. I rolled out of bed around 8 o’clock after working until 11:30 p.m. the night before to get my manicure done at 9:00 a.m. for my upcoming trip to New York City.  It was my first trip to the city I’d dreamt about visiting since I was a child.  I was happily chirping away to my nail tech whom I’d been going to for 5 years and telling her about my plans for my trip and what I planned to do.  Originally the trip was planned for the entire week but since I got a new job we had to shorten it to just the weekend but I was excited just the same.  We’d got an excellent deal on a hotel, the World Trade Center Marriott and I couldn’t wait to stay in the heart of the city.

The radio was playing in the background and I heard something about the World Trade Center in the background but I didn’t pause at first because I thought I had NYC on the brain and I was hearing things.  Then the music stopped and Matt Patrick got serious.  A plane had crashed into the World Trade Center.  Kelly (my nail tech) and I looked at each other and my first thought was, “crap!  What about my vacation!”  Now I feel absolutely gutted over that but the initial news reports were that it was a prop plane and thoughts were that it was an “oops” and nothing sinister.  They went back to playing music and I just kept hoping that the hotel was OK and that the fire would be put out and all would be well by Friday.

Little did I know.

The music stopped again.  You could hear the heartbreak in Matt’s voice as he reported that another plane had hit the World Trade Center.  At first there was confusion on if it was the same incident but it soon became apparent that no, it wasn’t.  This not only was NOT an oops, but an attack on the US.  The music never came back on and the rest of the hour we were both in stunned silence as we listened to Matt fill us in on what was going on and how severe the conditions were.

As soon as my appointment was over, I called my Dad who was home that day and rushed over to his house.  On the way there a plane went over and I confess, I ducked.  Later I would wonder if that was the plane that crashed in PA that was hijacked somewhere over our airspace (at this point most of the planes were grounded).  I don’t know if it was but I’ll never forget that fear.  My Dad and I were arguing over the phone though over what was going on.  He kept insisting that the plane had hit the Pentagon and I kept telling him it was the World Trade Center.

I got to his house and spent the rest of the hours before I had to go to work watching in horror as both the Pentagon and the World Trade Centers burned and the WTC towers eventually fell.  I still can feel my jaw drop as I sat in shock and horror watching the buildings collapse and people flee into the streets of the city I once thought as enchanted.  I had never been in such disbelief in my life before – nor had I ever been so glad to live “in the middle of nowhere” as my younger 20-something self always believed.

My first thoughts when I came back to reality were of my great uncle whom I knew worked in the city.  While he was in his 90’s and lived in West Orange, NJ I knew that he was often in the city and working.  He loved to work and was never one to let age get in his way.  He was the first one to introduce me to the idea of NYC and tell me about how amazing it was.  He was always asking me to come see him and let him show me his city.  We were planning to stop by and hopefully see him while we were there.  He remarried not long before 9/11 and his new wife cut him off from his family and sadly we had no number to call to find out if he was OK after 9/11.  Finally our letters starting coming back as addressee unknown.  Later we would find out his death certificate lists his death on 9/12/01 in NYC and although we were never able to find out the cause of death, I have to wonder if it was something to do with 9/11 – be it if he was there or if he had a heart attack after seeing what happened to his beloved city.  To this day, I still look for him in the streets in the pictures from that day, hoping to see his face and his birthmark on his face that gave him such character.

I did finally make it to the enchanted city less than three months after 9/11.  I didn’t get a chance to get to Ground Zero at the time because they were selling tickets for the platform to “see” it and it was sold out for months in advance.  I went back the following year in January, April and October.  I paid a nighttime visit in April and laid flowers at Ladder 1 but I didn’t get images of Ground Zero until October.

Ten years.  It’s hard to believe it was so long ago.  Where were you ten years ago?  It’s funny, I used to always sit and listen to my parents tell me about they day Kennedy was shot and I never imagined that our generation would have a date in history like that to tell our children about.  Now we do… and I hope that’s the only one.

This iron cross was found in the early days after the World Trade Center collapsed.  It was moved to the platform so others could see it and now resides at St. Peters.

 

This poster which you can somewhat see above pretty much captures my thoughts about the week after 9/11.

 

This globe was damaged but withstood the buildings that fell onto it.  I’m not sure if it’s still there but I hope it is.  I think it’s a perfect symbol of hope.  No matter what may fall on your shoulders, you can still stand, even if you have some scars.

 

While I had visited the Statue of Liberty in April, I was excited to go again in October since the day was much nicer.  At this point you could only get onto the island still (no climbing) but it was still a great sight to see.