September 11, 2001

Something I wrote for a local newspaper in 2004...



I remember standing on top of the north tower when I was 8 years old, feeling like I could see anywhere in the world from there.

I remember passing by the city hundreds of times in my youth, and always finding the twin towers right away, as if they were the only thing worth seeing.

I remember every little hill & bend in my town that the towers were visible from, and how cool it was to see them, regardless of how many other times I’d seen them, or how old they got.

I remember the first time I dined at Windows On The World, right after my HS graduation in June, 2001, and thinking how awesome it would be to work there after I got my Culinary Degree.

And I remember every detail of the day these all became just memories.

I had started my freshman year at Johnson & Wales University on Tuesday, September 4th, 2001. 250 miles away from home, and away from everything I ever knew, it was a scary time, as it is for every 18 year old at that point in their lives.

But a week into school, everything was great. I’d made some really good friends, met a bunch of people who lived really close to me, and was thoroughly enjoying my classes. I was having the time of my life, as every 18 year old at that point in their lives does.

And then, on the morning of September 11th, I got into class at 7am, just like I had each of the past 5 weekdays. We took notes for the first hour, as we always did, and then by 8 o’clock we were cooking. In my two years at that school, I must have cooked over 150 different menu items, and I couldn’t tell you what any of them were, except for that one. On that morning, I was making a very basic Tomato Chutney. I was an hour into my prep work, and a good two hours or so away from completion when the dean came into our classroom at around 9:30.

This wasn’t normal, we all knew this wasn’t normal. He spoke to our chef (that’s what we called professor’s at this school), and then asked for all of our attention. He said there had been an “accident” in New York City, and if anyone had any relatives or friends living or working there, he’d like them to come with him. Myself and one other kid left the classroom. Everyone else stayed behind, cleaned up, and left, as classes were cancelled.

We got down to the dean’s office in time to see the first tower collapse. We immediately knew why we had been pulled from class, and suddenly having classes cancelled didn’t seem like such a great thing anymore.

I spoke with the dean, and explained that my mother worked a block away from the World Trade Center, and took the train into the WTC Station every morning. He said I wouldn’t be able to get in touch with her, but to try her cell phone & office anyway, and then call anyone I could in my family. Like he said, I got no connection with her cell phone, and no answer at her office. I was still fairly calm at this point, reality hadn’t hit me yet. It was when I got in touch with my grandmother a few minutes later that I broke down. She was already a mess when she answered, and she said she hadn’t heard anything from my mother or stepfather (who always worked in the city, but not downtown).

This obviously put me in a state of panic. She had my number, and the dean office number, and the dean had my dorm number, so he suggested I just go relax in my dorm if I’d like, and everything would be ok. I could have stayed if I wanted to, but it didn’t seem the place to be at that time, so I went to my room.

The walk thru the dorm hallway was almost something out of a movie. Every room had their door open, and you could hear the same thing out of every room. The TV was on, and it was coverage of the attacks (which is what they were by this point, no longer just an accident). And there was an eerie silence to the place. No one was talking, everyone just watched and listened. Every now & again you would hear someone crying, but that was it. As I reached my room, I found the three girls from the room next door were in our room watching with my roommates. They asked where I had been, and I explained. One of the girls also had parents who worked in the city, both worked in the south tower. She, like me, was just waiting to hear from anybody. Unlike me, she had completely lost it by this point, knowing that her parents had to have been in that tower at one point or another before the attacks began.

So the six of us watched & waited. 11 o’clock, I called my grandmother, no new news. 12 o’clock, 1 o’clock, 2 o’clock, nothing. By this point, I was as big of a mess as the other girl. At 2:30 my phone rang, it was my stepfather. He was stuck in Long Island City, as there was no transportation anywhere, but he was OK. He said my mom caught the 6:45 train out of NJ that morning, so there was no reason for her to be anywhere near the WTC when the planes struck or the towers collapsed. As comforting as that was, we still hadn’t heard from her, and that was what we really wanted.

There was a candlelight vigil at 6 o’clock that evening in front of our dorm. I don’t remember too much of it, but the one thing I’ll never forget is the fact that everyone was crying. I’d never seen anything like it.

After the vigil, we went and got a bite to eat at the cafeteria, and then went back to our dorm. By the time we got back to our room, we’d gotten word that the girl who was with us earlier had left. Apparently her grandparents picked her up. Never saw her again. Found out from an RA a week later that both of her parents were killed.

By 9 o’clock, my stepfather had gotten in touch with my mother, and he had gotten back to NJ. She didn’t get home until God knows what time morning. She called me as soon as she did, and I once again lost it. She retraced all her steps for me that day, and it turns out she watched it all unfold, and then had to walk from 4th all the way up to central park (55th) before anything else could happen.

It truly was a day nobody will ever forget. It’s also a day not many people are too willing to talk about. Three years later now, and this is the first time I’m sharing my story with anyone, other then my family.

Classes were cancelled the next day, and resumed on Thursday.

My cousin, Philip, who worked on the 88th floor of the south tower was missing. That Saturday we had a memorial service for him. Two weeks later, after his mother had finally accepted that he wouldn’t be coming home, we had another memorial service/”funeral” for him. Three weeks after that, remains of his body were found, and we gave him a proper funeral. 39 years old. He didn’t deserve three wakes & a funeral, he deserved to raise a family, and live his life.

My friend’s father was a victim. As was a neighbor. And a friend’s sister’s friend. And 43 other people from my hometown. And a total of 148 people from the county in which I live. 700 from New Jersey.

Over the days, weeks & months that followed, any phone call I got made me nervous. Who was next? How many memorial services am I going to this weekend? When will it stop?

I’ve finally found the answer, and accepted it, and it’s never. Three years later , and every September I find myself attending 1, 2, 5, 10 more memorial services. I find myself visiting ground zero every time I’m in New York City. My house still has pictures, plaques, books & posters everywhere commemorating the heroes, and remembering the lost loved ones.

I sometimes wonder if it will ever end. But I know it won’t. If it ever does, then people have forgotten. And for the people of New York City, New Jersey, Washington DC, and the 83 countries around the world that lost someone, forgetting this is not an option. It is not possible. We choose to remember.

To remember is to honor.

Greatest Music Video Ever

It's football season!

Rally sons of Notre Dame:
Sing her glory and sound her fame,
Raise her Gold and Blue
And cheer with voices true:
Rah, rah, for Notre Dame
We will fight in ev-ry game,
Strong of heart and true to her name
We will ne'er forget her
And will cheer her ever
Loyal to Notre Dame

Cheer, cheer for old Notre Dame,
Wake up the echoes cheering her name,
Send a volley cheer on high,
Shake down the thunder from the sky.
What though the odds be great or small
Old Notre Dame will win over all,
While her loyal sons are marching
Onward to victory.