Remembering September 11th . . .

On September 11th, 2001, I was seven months pregnant with my son Brendan.  I remember walking my two older sons to school that day, looking up at the sky and thinking it was one of the most beautiful late summer mornings I had ever seen.  The sky was a brilliant shade of blue and there was not a cloud to be seen.  I walked back up the path and into the house and turned on the television to see what was going on in the world while I ate some breakfast.  My local news channel was showing a video of a plane crashing into one of the Twin Towers. This was the first glimpse I got of what would turn out to be one of the saddest days in American history.  I called my neighbor whose husband was a police officer in the city to see if she knew anything about what was going on.  As I sat on the stairs leading up to the second floor, staring at the television and talking on the phone I watched as another plane slammed into another tower.  At first I thought it was just another video of the first plane until I heard the news reporters and my friend screaming that it was another plane. 

In all honesty, it didn't even occur to me at first that there were people in the building and emergency services workers there as well.  I think I was just trying to wrap my brain around what I had just seen.  Something that was taking place just 20 miles from where I live.

The photo above is a very special one to so many people.  The man on the left is my uncle Harry.  He was attending a funeral that day and wasn't there when the towers fell but when he found out what had happened he drove there immediately and was down "on the pile" looking for survivors for weeks.  My uncle was a member of FDNY for more than 35 years.  One of the people he was looking for was the young man on the right.  His name was Welles Crowther.  You may have heard of him as "The Man in the Red Bandanna."  If you haven't, you can read about him here .  He is a true hero in every sense of the word and I was blessed to have known him from the time he was a young boy.  If you look at the background of the photo, you can see the Twin Towers.  Welles worked in Tower 2 and was also a volunteer firefighter in our home town.  Helping people was in his blood.  My uncle was very close with Welles' parents and would stop by their house on his way home from Ground Zero and give them an update at the end of every shift.  Welles' body was eventually found in the lobby of Tower 2 with many other members of FDNY where they had set up a central command station.  My uncle Harry passed five years ago due to 9/11 related health complications.  His lungs were ruined by all of the dust and everything else that they were breathing in all of those months.  He is just one of many people who have succumbed to 9/11 related diseases.

Plaques dedicated to my uncle Harry and Welles outside of the fire house in Upper Nyack, NY where they both volunteered.

The Freedom Tower while it was still being built.

A couple of years ago we visited the 9/11 Memorial and the Freedom Tower while it was still under construction.  From the time you step off of the subway and walk up the stairs to its location you can sense that it is a sacred place.  The air seems different, the sky seems different and people seem different.  Everyone that visits there has there own personal reason for taking the journey there and whether or not you knew someone that died that day doesn't matter.  It will still touch you to your soul.

I was pregnant with this guy on 9/11/01.  : )

It has been 14 years and the sadness still sits right up at the surface on this day and so many other days.  When I see Welles' parents and sisters and my aunt and cousins I still could cry a river for them all.  When I see family members reading off the names on the television every September 11th I want to give them each a hug.  Name upon name.  Face upon face.  All of them, innocent victims of a senseless tragedy.

Lest we forget.


Many blessings ~ Wendy

Lest We Forget . . .

I live twenty miles north of Manhattan. I remember every detail of September 11, 2001 as if it were yesterday. I remember looking up at the sky as I walked back up the path from my sons' school. Trevor was in kindergarten and Connor was in third grade. I was seven months pregnant with Brendan. The sky was a brilliant shade of blue. There was not a cloud to be seen ~ a perfect September day.

I made something for breakfast and turned on the television. I don't normally watch television during the day but was in the mood for some "Regis and Kelly." Instead there was a special news report saying that a plane had crashed into one of the twin towers. I sat on the stairs leading to the second floor of my house and stared at the screen. It never once entered my mind that it had anything to do with "terrorists.". That's just not anything I ever thought about. That only happened in "other" countries.

As I continued to watch, there was an image of a plane banking and hitting the tower. It was video that someone had taken when the plane hit, wasn't it? Of course it was. There was no way that could happen again. What do you mean another plane hit? How is that possible? Again, it never entered my mind that we were under attack. My friend's husband calling her from his police precinct in the city, telling her to take the kids out of school is what jarred me into reality. It was like a bad dream.

I walked back to the school and into the office to sign the boys out. I was not the first parent to do so. With a sense of urgency and a smile on my face, I took each son out of class without a hint of why. The look in the eyes of all the "grown ups" said it all.

I had heard in the office that a tower had crumbled to the ground. Then, when I arrived home with the boys, the other one did the same. That nite, as my husband was working what was to be his first of three days straight, we sat around the dining room table with close friends and ate pizza as a fighter jet flew over our house. Calls began to come in with names of friends and members of our community that were among the missing. Some called home. Others did not. I remember my husband pointing out cars that were still in commuter parking lots late at nite and wondering who they belonged to. I remember that we didn't hear a train whistle thru our open windows for days after 9/11. I remember the sound of crickets bothering me because it reminded me of the chirping sound that was heard from the air tanks of the firefighters who were no longer breathing. Low flying planes still make my heart skip a beat sometimes. There will always be a "before 9/11" and a "after 9/11."

On that gorgeous September day, our community lost mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, sons and daughters. We lost coaches, volunteers, life partners, friends and loved ones. We lost our innocence.

There is so much more I could write about that day and the many days and months following. Instead I will finish with a poem that I cut out of our local newspaper a few weeks after 9/11/01 and still have on my refrigerator. It describes perfectly the feelings in our heart, as New Yorkers and as Americans, the days following the terrorist attacks.

Changed . . .

Everything has changed . . .

Suddenly the color of my car and the size of my house don't matter.

The brand of the clothes on my back is unimportant and the size of

my bank account is trivial.

Smiles and laughter have been replaced by tears and sorrow for all

that was and will never be again.

Everything has changed . . .

I hold my family much closer now not knowing if I will have the

chance to hold them again or tell them how much I love them.

I hold my freedom dearer now for all its unappreciated and

ignored gifts.

I hold my God closer than ever before, knowing that without

our prayers and His grace we will not endure.

Everything has changed . . .

My sense of security is shaken, my sense of vulnerability increased

and my sense of grief overwhelming.

I cannot sleep, it is hard to eat and the everyday toils seem of

minor concern.

Everything has changed . . .

I look around and see death and destruction fueled by hate, surrounded

by an eerily calm blue sky.

I worry about the future. I think about the past and pray that I can get

through another day, changed forever.

~ Author Unknown

One day at a time, we have gone on since September 11th, 2001 and I believe we are a stronger nation and people because of it. May God bless our country, the members of our military force, all of our people here and abroad and those that still struggle with their losses of that day.

Lest we forget.

Many blessings ~ Wendy