September
used to be the month I couldn’t wait for.
When I was a kid it was the first day of school and anticipation of the
new teacher; wearing the new clothes my parents had purchased for me; the
promise to do better this year —and Halloween, Thanksgiving and
Christmas were only around the corner. As an adult it was the beginning of my favorite season. It was the promise of blue skies, crisp cool
mornings and warm afternoons that told me “it’s not winter yet, but wait”. September was the anticipation of vibrant
colors and cozy nights.
On September 7, 1996 we had to put
my ailing dog Benji to sleep, and we mourned his passing with a love in our hearts
that had grown to intensity during the fourteen years he was our
companion. He was the child we did not
have.
That September I couldn’t feel the
happiness of the usual anticipations, and we tried to be pet-less for a while,
considering the freedom we would have to go on vacation without worry. But I couldn’t last more than a month, so we
adopted kittens. And although I still
mourned my beloved Benji, I had little Ali and Tomasina now, and the happy
anticipations were beginning to show themselves again. And there were the beautiful fall colors to
appreciate, and the crisp, cool mornings to feel.
The September of the next few years
became the month of street fairs in Manhattan with my in-laws and occasional
drives to Mt. Airy, Maryland to visit my family. And, as always, within each day to day
endeavor, my anticipation of the coming holiday Season delighted my heart and
warmed my soul.
The September of 2001 we were
getting all new windows and vinyl siding.
They were to start at the end of September. I was so excited and happy about our decision
to make the renovations. It was the
perfect time of year, and I would finally have a house nice enough to adorn
with holiday decorations. So, as the month
of September began, I started to feel the excitement of it all. I remember being in a wonderful place on the
morning of September 11th.
The sky was blue and the temperature was just right. I got in my car and popped in my Irish Tenors
CD and sang as I drove to work, and by the power of my energized mind I went
with John, Anthony and Ronan “to pluck wild mountain thyme all around the
blooming heather”. I had been plucking
wild mountain thyme all summer -- almost every morning on my way to work. But that was the last time.
The September of 2001 brought fear
to my life like I had never known it before.
It brought the pain of watching people jump from tall towers; smoke and
debris; people screaming and running for their lives; towers crashing to the
ground, and the lovely blue sky morning was suddenly dark and hot, and evil
enveloped our beloved Manhattan like a shroud, and it spoke to me in tones of
hatred, saying “this is what you get for being happy.” I lost no loved ones in the towers that
morning. I was so thankful for
that. But my heart ached for all those
who died.
The September of 2001 did not hold
the promises of the years before. There
were no anticipations this September, and nothing made me happy—not even the
renovations that were soon to start.
There was only doubt and fear swaying like a pendulum above my
head. This September brought one vision,
and in the center were family members of loved ones lost; holding photos of a
wife, a husband, a sister, a brother, a son, a
daughter; desperately hoping against all odds to find them alive; perhaps on some street corner walking in a daze. I could only imagine the personal pain they
were going through and I felt helpless.
We were told to leave work that morning after securing any important documents.
The market did not open that day and for a few days after. In the days to come we learned that more and
more of the Morgan Stanley employees who worked at the many offices in the World Trade Center made it to safety. Morgan Stanley was the largest tenant of the
World Trade Center occupying over 20 floors, most of which were in Two World
Trade Center, and employed about 3700 of our associates; people we
communicated with by phone and fax on a daily basis from our branch office in
Melville, Long Island. While I thank God
for all those who made it to safety, my heart and soul cries for those who did
not. Cantor Fitzgerald was another
investment firm in the World Trade Center.
They are now mourning the loss of a vast majority of their colleagues.
I’ve been horrified, afraid, and
angry since that day. These feelings
will not disappear any time soon. That’s
what terrorism is. It beats you up and
leaves you to fear what may be next.
Notes:
The above was
written by me shortly after September 11, 2001. In the spring of 2004 when we
were moving to Pennsylvania, I had called an old friend and colleague who had
handled the closing of our home years before to tell him of our new address. He
asked how my husband and I were doing? All was fine for us and we were excited
about the move. But then I asked him how he and his wife were doing, and he
told me that they were doing ok, but it was a tough few years for them. I was
concerned and asked why, and he told me his son Timmy died on 9/11. He worked
at Cantor Fitzgerald. Having been out of touch with them for quite some years,
I did not know and I felt terrible.
Also not known to me at the time was the heroism of Rick Rescorla, Morgan Stanley's Director of Security. He anticipated the attacks on the towers and had implemented evacuation procedures immediately, while many others in the building were told to stay put until rescue workers arrived. Rick Rescorla lead many to safety, but died himself during the attacks because he went back to see if there were others who needed help. Rick Rescorla was among the many hero's who helped save lives that day.
