Lessons from the week

1. When a restaurant has an $18 bottle of wine special, you will most definitely have more than one.
   
2. When a group of runners stop at corner and yell "SPLIT CHICKEN!" or "ON-ON!" you are in the midst of a NYC Hashers run.
   
3. No matter how rough a day I've had, spending time with shelter animals will lift my mood exponentially.
   
4. Artist Tom Otterness is not as cool as his brass sculptures are.
   
5. No matter how awful a song may seem at first, repetitive listens will almost always guarantee that you love it (or at least it will be stuck in your head for hours on end).

With the fall...

...comes so much awesomeness!  I realize I may be jumping the gun a bit, but I can't help it. So, without further adieu, I present you with:

My Top Twenty List of Particularly Kick-Ass Autumnal Things

   20.  all new seasons of TV shows

   19.  cider
   18.  lower electric bills                               
   17.  Halloween
   16.  rainbows of turning leaves
   15.  switching back to hot coffee
   14.  fingerless gloves
   13.  Thanksgiving
   12.  fresh, crisp apples
   11.  annual Walk for Farm Animals
   10.  jackets with pockets to put things in
     9.  catching the sunset on my way home (thanks to the fall-back time change)
     8.  knee socks

     7.  my pilgrimage to Austin, TX

     6.  sweat-less subway commutes

     5.  cat fur that stays on the cat
     4.  the absence of steamy, garbage-piled sidewalks
     3.  birthdays galore (KK, LB, JZ, LD, mine...I am sure I am forgetting some...)
     2.  being reacquainted with my long lost (but not forgotten) lovers, my cowboy boots
     1.  "cellaring" the white and dusting off the red

You've seen mine, so what are yours?

Then and Now

It's been ten years; 3,650 days; 87,600 hours since September 11, 2001.



In my life since 9/11, many things have changed, and surprisingly, many things are the same. I have never taken the time to document my memories of that day. And so, while watching the 10th anniversary coverage on TV, I decided it is finally time to write out what I remember.

Residents walk from Manhattan across the
59th Street Bridge into Queens



On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was temping at UNITE, a non-profit company who was polling the NYC primary elections. I didn't know anyone and I watched in horror as the World Trade Center buildings smoked, emblazoned in flames, and finally, fell into the earth. I remember looking around the conference room where unfamiliar faces were glued to the television screen. Some people were crying, some angry, some paced the room, and others quietly talked with one another. No one talked to me and I didn't talk to anyone. I remember going to the phone and trying to call my family; I was lucky and got through to my parents. And then somehow, I was also able to get through to my ex-boyfriend on his cell phone. Once the city began allowing pedestrians to cross the river by foot, I met Nick near the entrance to the 59th Street Bridge (aka the Queensboro Bridge). We joined thousands of scared New Yorkers in a very
slow walk over the East River into Queens.

Me on 9/11/2001 - 59th Street Bridge

 As awful as it was, no one could take their eyes from the thick billow of smoke making its way over the river and into Brooklyn. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, there was a nice breeze, and people were wearing short sleeves and sunglasses. I remember taking photos during that walk. This is the first time I have looked at them since 2001.   

view of the East River and downtown from the 59th Street Bridge



   

FDNY Engine 259 - Ladder 128 (Greenpoint Avenue in Queens, NY)

Many hours later we made it to Greenpoint, Brooklyn. Friends and loved ones were gathered at Splendid, a bar where "everybody knows your name", to take a tally on who was safe, who might be missing, share our stories and down a few drinks. My roommate at the time, my dear friend, Morgan, was at home in South Williamsburg with my cats. He had been awakened that morning by our land-line phone ringing. It was my brother, Glenn, who asked him if he knew where I was and if I was alright. Morgan had no idea what had transpired that morning while he slept.

During the weeks that immediately followed September 11th, there was a strong acrid, burning smell that was in the air, on the streets, and in our apartment. That smell, I will never forget. The smell of burning plastic, wood, paper, and human life. For reasons that are hard to explain, I walked to Ground Zero with Morgan, and our good friend, Maeghan. We walked over the Williamsburg Bridge down through Chinatown and to the site. It still smelled bad, people were everywhere, and we had to walk single file down the sidewalk. It was an unnerving scene, full of sorrow and managed chaos. It felt necessary to witness what was happening, to face this newly broken landscape, so that I could personally grasp the magnitude of this disaster and begin to accept the loss. My parents came to visit me and we also made the trek down Broadway to Ground Zero. We saw the twisted iron pieces of the World Trade Center, breathed the bitter dusty air that made your throat hurt, walked past the abandoned stores, saw the inches of grey-white dust that still lay everywhere - on the ground and above our heads. We visited St. Paul's Chapel where the Red Cross was stationed to help the hundreds of workers get an hour of rest, a drink of water, a bite to eat, and some solace. The presence of military guards with machine guns and large dogs, mourners, tchotchke vendors, firemen and policemen alike, completed an overwhelming scene. It was a strange and unfamiliar place, which was disorienting to me, because I had worked across the street from 2 World Trade Center (the South Tower) for two years prior to 9/11.
   

From the winter of 1999 - July 2001, I worked a long-term temp assignment in the Human Resources department at Deutsche Bank which was located at 130 Liberty Street. I was also our floor's Fire Marshall. Our building was connected to the WTC South Tower by an enclosed walkway and I would walk through both towers on both ends of my daily commute. I spent the last 6 months at Deutsche Bank working with engineers and space planners on our new floor, the 24th floor. We were going to move a large portion of our midtown employees down to Liberty Street and were making all the arrangements for their transplantation. As a Fire Marshall, I recall sitting in a meeting with one of the engineers who was at the World Trade Center during the 1993 bombing. He explained to us what he saw that day, how the bomb had ripped a gaping chasm through the parking garage underground and how scared they were that the building wouldn't hold to it's foundation. His point, was to educate us on what to do in an emergency, should a fire break out, or should we need to evacuate. And I remember him specifically saying they were lucky the WTC buildings were constructed to allow for some movement so that they wouldn't collapse.

Ground Zero; 130 Liberty Street (center left, under tarp)

My temp assignment was ended in July 2001. The last time I was in that building it was a beautiful summer day. A friend had taken his yellow, 1960-something classic convertible out of storage and drove me to pick up my belongings that were left in my desk. I left 130 Liberty Street with an extra bounce in my step, got into a kickass car with my stuff and went for a ride on a perfect summer day. I never knew how lucky I was to have lost my job until two months later, when I saw the towers on fire. We did lose people from 130 Liberty Street. I heard that one of the security guards who greeted us every day, stayed too long in the building waiting for people to leave, and sadly, he died. I am so lucky that I was not down there that day to witness the atrocities, or hear the noises. There are some things that no one should have to see or experience; being in the city on that day, was enough.

In the days and months after 9/11, I never once thought about leaving New York City. Running away seemed like deserting a friend in need. I felt as if I needed to stay, to work through the unknown and see the day when we felt safe and whole again. I think I became a stronger human being by living through this tragedy and standing still when everyone thought I should run.

Morgan and I days after 9/11 at the South Street Seaport.
Happy to be alive and have eachother.

Ten years later. I am still in the same South Williamsburg apartment. After 8 years of different friends, lovers and strangers living with me, Morgan has somehow returned and is once again my roommate. How strange it is to be living together again on this anniversary. The apartment looks both similar and different. Different furniture, the walls have been painted. Same cats, plus two new additions. I have been working at the School of Visual Arts since 2002, and Morgan is now in nursing school, but still waits tables at night. We are a family once again. And one thing that I have learned over the past ten years is that family is more than blood bonds. Family is made of people and living creatures who share a connection to each other. My family in New York City is as important to me as my family who live in other states. We rely on one another. We love each other. We grow together. We cry and we laugh together. And we move forward together, one step at a time.

I will never forget that day, those buildings, that smell, the sights, or the pain. I will always be thankful for my life, and for my experiences. So many others on that day were much less fortunate. So many good people sacrificed their lives to help another human being. People are still dying from and living with disease caused by working at Ground Zero for months after the attack. Most of the rescue dogs and therapy animals have passed on. And it is those lives, those souls, whom we should remember and think about today, and every day. I will remember. 

Caleb in summer 2001, 5th Floor of the Astral Building
Greenpoint, Brooklyn (Twin Towers in background, left)



September 11, 2011

Remember. Live, Love and Laugh.