I had just returned from teaching English to Chinese English teachers in Rizhao, China, in August, 2001, when the IRS asked me to go to NY to teach IRS employees. I was only supposed to be there 6 weeks and even that was over the protestations of my manager, who had no say over whether I went or not. I had skills the government needed for this project and to NY I went.
I was supposed to have September 11th off. I had my ticket to be on the observatory floor of Tower 1 at 8:30 in the morning. I was looking forward to a beautiful morning looking over the skyline of and waters surrounding Battery Park. In the time I had been in NY I had learned to love it and how to get around. I didn’t have a lot of money to go out all the time so I took up the Clarinet and learned to play it. But, today I was going to just enjoy myself, or so I thought.
Early in the morning I got a call that one of my other instructors was sick and couldn’t come in. I had to fill in. So much for a fun day of freedom. I enjoy teaching, but I was looking forward to wandering around NY with no commitments.
The day had shortly begun when, a secretary from another office came running down the hall to our area screaming that some idiot had just flown his plane into the north tower of WTC. We found that incredible that someone would be so stupid and talked about it being a suicide pact. However, we were in a secured government building with no outside contact. The TVs were only for videos. Curiosity was high and so with the help of another instructor we tried to hot-wire a TV to get reception. While we were doing this, the secretary came running in again and said another one came into the second tower. Now, the employees we were teaching started to get worried and didn’t know what to do. They had friends and relatives that worked in the towers. We found we couldn’t reach anyone by telephone. They said they didn’t want to leave without authorization or they would get fired. I made the decision. I told them that family came first and if they felt they needed to leave to leave. If anyone asked them about it they were to say it was under my authorization. I approved it and I would take the flack. Almost everyone left immediately and shortly I secured the facility and left also.
Outside, it was horrible. It was not pandemonium. Although no one knew what to do, no one was panicking. People were respectful to each other and everyone was trying to help everyone else. This was no the typical NYC I had been used to experiencing. The tragedy brought out the best in everyone I met. Gradually, learned what had happened. We saw one time the Muslims of NJ cheering on TV and although there was anger it was latent. It was more of a disgusted pity we felt that any group could be so moronic and rejoice over an action like this and the killing of so may innocent people none of whom they even know. But then, that was Islam, a religion commonly known to be that of violence and liars. We only saw this on TV once; it may have been blocked for local viewing after that or we were just to busy to see it, but no one felt revenge or retribution against them, just pity and disgust.
The streets were a mess. There was debris everywhere. It was very difficult to get around but no one was complaining; everyone was helping out in some way even if it was only in asking someone walking by if they needed anything or helping them get through the mess by holding their arm. People from other organizations kept asking us if they could help and offered food or shelter. We didn’t want to be rude, but if was almost as if there was an invisible barrier and their words couldn’t get in to our consciousness. We walked on. There was a great relief and comfort when we looked up and saw the F-16s flying overhead. The government cared. We felt proud to be Americans.
Out of the city and back on Long Island the rock and roll station was organizing efforts to assist the firefighters and we organized blood drives for the Red Cross. People responded in droves and shortly were turned away because we brought too many people in. Later we were told that the Red Cross burned the blood we donated because there was too much of it. We turned our efforts to helping the firefighters and volunteering to do anything at the stations to help out.
When I could finally get out of the city, I took the train and went to DC and the Pentagon. I took pictures and with my government clearance I talked to some of the guards that had been there when it happened. Actually, I listened; they talked. It was as if they just wanted someone unofficial that they could freely and safely talk to without being analyzed or offered assistance. They described in detail how they saw the planes coming and the impact. They told me they had talked with the counselors and gave me one of the cards they were given if they needed help. One of them gave me a poem he wrote immediately after it happened. He said he felt compelled to write it. I was reluctant to take it but he insisted. He wanted me to have it.
When I left NY in May 2002 to go back to SC, the NY firefighters surprised me and gave me one of their caps as a thank you for my assistance. I had to promise not to wear it in NYC since they said it had something on the patch that enabled the wearer to go in to areas the public could not. I don’t know how true that is but I accepted it without question. I received awards from the government for my efforts, but my manager sought revenge.
I left government service and went back to teaching public school and am still doing so. My first year I was asked to sing Proud to be an American in an assembly. I broke down in the middle of it and couldn’t do it. I am also a singer and actor. I have been on stage hundreds of time in all kinds of shows yet I couldn’t sing this simple song without breaking down. I didn’t realize how internalized those events had become. This was the first time I had cried since the event. I still closely watch everything to do with the 9-11 events. I was appalled at the insensitivity of the Imam and Muslims that wanted to stick a mosque in the face of New Yorkers and gloat over their actions. Sure, they’ll deny that’s their intent but actions speak louder than words. I find it incredible over the bickering and failure to get along in rebuilding the memorial and the site, but then NYC has returned to its normal self.
Like any event it changes one’s life forever. It can never be forgotten. The NY cop on horseback that cussed out all the tourists with cameras and ordered them away from the site or he’d run them all in; he had had enough. The firefighters with their quiet demeanor and gratitude for even the smallest of assistance and caring. The bagpipes for the deceased. The before, during, and after pictures permanently imbedded in my mind as well as those photos I took in NY and DC. The story of the NBC guard that was taking a smoke break on the rooftop when the first plane struck and he got covered in dust. The F-16s in the air from a government saying “We care”. The efforts of the greatest mayor ever to serve. All memories. All permanent.