My September 11 story is something I have shared many times in the past decade, but not one that I launch into lightly or casually. I am so afraid to tell it incorrectly, offensively, or perceived in the wrong way that I generally attempt to avoid it all together.
It is important to me that you understand that I share this not for sensationalism, drama, attention, or any other personal reason. If it only mattered to me, I would just as well keep it in my own way. I share it because I am an educator and a father, and just as people have always passed down stories to friends and family in order to teach lessons, I want to do everything I can to keep it relevant in the hearts of my students and my sons. Additionally, it has been 10 years and my memory isn't getting any better. Oh yeah, and one more thing...September 11 was the worst and the best thing that ever happened to me. See why I hesitate? Please hang in there and give me a chance to explain.
September 11, 2001
(Some times are exact and others are approximated.)
8:00 a.m.
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| Moody's located at red A |
A struggling actor and writer in NYC, I left my apartment in Astoria to head to my temp job a Moody's Investors Services. It was a great job - if you describe a great job as one that requires you to read novels and spend a mandatory one hour lunch working out in the gym. It's not that I was shirking my responsibilities. On my first day of work someone walked me to my desk and said, "Someone will be by soon to tell you what to do." No one ever came back or even talked to me again for that matter 9/11. My usual work time was 9:00 a.m. sharp, but I had left earlier than usual this day to accompany my wife as she went to shoot a movie on the subway.
8:15 a.m.
I got off my subway stop underneath the World Trade Center. If you never had the chance to visit the subway system under the WTC, then you need to know that there was a small city under there. Mini-marts, shops, and food vendors. There was one stand and gentleman I visited frequently to pick up a newspaper and candy items. I don't know (or never asked) his name, but I didn't think of him again until years later and wondered if he escaped the tons of wreckage that later occupied where his stand stood.
8:25 a.m.
By this time I was at my desk and "working."
8:46 a.m.
American Airlines Flight 11 flew into the North Tower. I heard a very loud sound and was "moved" sideways. My first thought was that someone dropped something very heavy on the floor above me. I stood up, looked around, saw that everyone else was working, and went back to “work.”
8:50 a.m.
A voice came over the loudspeaker and informed us that there had been an explosion outside and no one was allowed to leave the building. I looked around, and no one seemed concerned, so I cracked open my book.
8:51 a.m.
My phone rang, and my wife told me a plane had "accidentally" crashed into the World Trade Center. That’s what we all it assumed it was....a terrible accident. One of my coworkers overheard my conversation, and walked over to my desk. My wife told me to “be careful” and I told her the same. My coworker and I got on cnn.com and saw the now infamous shot of the WTC with a hole in it. “That’s right over there,” he said and pointed.
9:02 a.m.
My coworker and I were walking across the floor to look out the window. Flight 175 hit the South Tower. I was aware of a loud explosion, and the concussion caused our building to physically move from side to side. It was at this moment that a hundred things happened and chaos took over. I remember that people started screaming and running. I remember hearing a voice over the loud speaker telling us to remain calm and “Stay in the building!” I remember suddenly being in a crowded stairwell (not knowing how I got there), and turning to a stranger next to me and saying, “Are we getting bombed?” I remember feeling for the first time in my life that I might die at any second.
9:10 a.m.
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| from cnn.com |
I exited the building and turned to the see the now infamous hole in the side of the WTC. Ashes were falling all around as if it were snowing. I was stunned, and I have no idea how long I stood there staring at the sickening sight while people screamed and moaned around me. I suddenly had two alarming thoughts enter my mind: everyone seemed to be running TOWARDS the World Trade Center, and one of the buildings was going to break off and fall right where I was standing. Looking back, I have no idea why people were running towards the wreckage, and I was obviously not in any danger of any building falling over.
Even with these thoughts in my head, I stood frozen until a woman next to me started screaming. I turned to see that she had dried blood in her hair and face. She screamed, “They’re jumping! They’re jumping!” I instinctively turned back to where she was pointing. All I will say is the next moment I found myself running in no particular direction. I approached a man in a suit and asked, “Which way is uptown?” He pointed and I took off running that direction. My only thought was to get as far away from the site as possible.
9:15 a.m.
While running, I got out my cell phone to call my wife's director. I had our one and only cell phone that day. The lines were jammed. I started looking for a pay phone and saw that there were people lined up seven or eight deep to use them. Besides, I didn’t even have a quarter. I shouted out at the crowd, “Does anyone have a quarter?” Again, here is another moment of haziness, but the next thing I knew my hand was full of quarters. I found an empty pay phone and called, but I was only able to get her voice mail. I looked down at cell phone and saw that it had connected with my sister’s cell phone back home. I left her a message saying that there had been a terrible accident, but I was okay. I let her know that I was going to try and find my wife and then try calling again.
9:20 a.m.
I came to an intersection and saw that everyone was frozen. They were standing in the middle of the streets with their doors open and car radios turned up. I listened as President George Bush addressed the nation to report that two planes had crashed into the World Trade Center. It was a horrible and unbelievable moment.
Suddenly, there came the sound of a plane overhead. I watched as the hundreds of people around me threw themselves to the ground at the same moment. We all had the same thought: "Another plane was getting to crash." In reality, it was a fighter jet flying in to secure the city. Once I realized this, I jumped up and ran until I reached 14th Street. It appeared to be the picture of calm. People were sitting, shopping, and going about their daily routine. I ran into the Virgin Records and asked if I could use the phone to try and contact my wife. The teenager behind the counter told me, "Phones are for public use only."
I yelled, "Don't you know what's going on out there?" and thundered out the door
I sat on the curb and dialed my wife's number over and over. A man who appeared to be of Middle-Eastern descent came over and sat near me. "This is exactly what the United States gets for sticking its nose where it doesn't belong!" he yelled. I eased over a bit, but we eventually struck up a conversation while waiting for...well...nothing...and he shared that he had several family members who worked in the WTC and he was worried about them.
9:45 a.m.
People began making a fuss inside Virgin Records, and we ran in to see what was going on. A plane had just crashed into the Pentagon. My first thought: we are at war. They also announced that Manhattan had been sealed off until further notice. This was a scary and unsettling realization. Like a rat, I was trapped on this island. I couldn't find my wife, couldn't get to my family in Indiana - I couldn't even get to my apartment. About this time my phone rang and my wife told me to come and meet her at our friend Rohan's apartment on 23rd Street. I wished my new friend good luck and we parted with a handshake.
9:59 a.m.
I arrived at Rohan’s apartment and hugged my wife. She brushed the ash off my shirt. I hadn’t even realized it was there. We all huddled around the television set just in time to see the South Tower crumble. There were and still are no words to describe this moment.
10:03 a.m.
United 93 went down into a field in Pennsylvania thanks to the brave passengers on board. We did not register this in any way until days later.
10:28 a.m.
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| View from Rohan's apartment on 23rd Street |
My wife and I climbed up to the roof of Rohan’s apartment building just as the North Tower collapsed. Even this far uptown, we could see the smoke and debris in the distance.
10:28 a.m. - 3:00 p.m.
These hours are a blur. The subways and ferrys were shut-down, so we had nothing to do but wander around the city and finding friends. The restaurants were out on the sidewalk giving out free food and drinks to people walking by. It was a NYC I have never seen before or since.
3:00 p.m.
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| Walking across 59th St. bridge |
Word came that we had finally been granted permission to leave Manhattan, but we had to walk across the 59th Street Bridge. I will never forget looking back at the burning skyline as I marched across with thousands of people. It took over three hours of walking to make our way back to our apartment in Astoria. My wife, who had been wearing heels, was given tennis shoes by someone, but her feet were still a mess by the time we finally arrived home.
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| The "new" skyline from 59th St. bridge |
September 12, 2001 and days after...
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| Makeshift memorial |
We ventured out during the next couple days to take a look around the city. There were few people on the streets, and those who were looked
and acted just like people attending a funeral. There were pictures and postcards of the WTC for sale in every shop - marked up and prominently displayed of course (it was still NYC). Around 14th Street, we began stumbling upon makeshift memorials people had created. Everyone seemed to be looking for a way to pay tribute, and no one was able to get it right...still, they kept trying.
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| Makeshift memorial |
A few days later we finally decided we had to take a break from the city. We weren’t alone in this feeling. All around the neighborhood we lived in there were moving trucks and mattresses being disposed of on the sidewalks. It look like the beginnings of some sort of mass exodus. I couldn’t find a car rental anywhere with 100 miles of NYC. I finally came across train tickets to Pittsburgh and a car for rent there. We booked the tickets and headed out of the city.
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This monument was headed to PA on 9/11, but became a
makeshift memorial for many days after. |
The car ride back was a strange experience as well. We noticed the same need by Americans to try and respond in some way to the terrorist attack. There were songs on the radio with screams and shouts of people on the street mixed with announcers commenting on the action. These rang false and contrived to us, and resulted in fast channel changes. Once we arrived back home, everyone wanted a retelling and some of their reactions were even more emotional than our own. People were trying to find a way to make this unbelievable event real in some way, and having us there allowed them to attach on and participate in the grieving process. I admit that I was uncomfortable with this role and still am to a certain degree.
Having ten years to reflect has brought me a small amount of clarity with this uncomfortable feeling. I don’t want any amount of fame or attention due to my proximity to the 9/11 attacks. I certainly didn’t act heroically. As the fireman and police officers ran towards the WTC, I was running as fast as I could away. Mostly, I don’t want pity for having gone through it. In fact, the lesson I hope they take away is quite the opposite.
In the days after the attack, I had this feeling that I just couldn’t go living my life the way I had up to this point. I was a 23-year-old who quit his teaching job, worked as a temp, and spent all of his free time sending headshots and letters to directors talking about how great and talented he was. Having been so close and witnessed so much death, I simply couldn't go back to a life that I now found at the time to be selfish, and pointless. I felt it would be a blatant disrespect to those innocent victims and heroic rescuers who didn’t have what I had...time.
My wife and I moved home and dedicated ourselves to our families and communities the best we could. We became educators. We became parents. We became the kind of people we truly wanted to be. That half a day on 9/11 didn’t just scar me - it irrevocably changed the course of my life in a positive way. In five hours, I aged five years.
In the months and years following 9/11, the entire country acted differently. There were more weddings. There were more babies. People chose to live their lives differently, because that’s the kind of people Americans were and strive to be today. What makes us Americans and patriots and human beings is our ability to face the worst possible circumstances and make something good come out of that situation. I hope when you are faced with problems, sadness, and setbacks you will find some way to bring good out of that situation. What better way is there to honor another person than by changing your own life for the better because of them?
September 11, 2001 was the worst day of my life, but September 11 was the first day of the rest of my life. This is how I will commemorate it, hold onto it, and grieve it in my own way for the years to come. Whenever I read my kids a story, or help a student with a problem, I hope I am recognizing the sacrifices made and paying tribute to those fallen by using well the one thing tragically taken away from them that day...time.
"Curation" is the latest buzzword in educational technology (and many other industries), and I want to confess that I have struggled a bit with my understanding of it. When trying to explain it to a colleague, I actually said, "uh...like...the Big Dave burger at Wendy's is an example of curation..." I'm not sure my analogy was a winner. The cartoon which appeared in Dilbert (see below) soon thereafter hit home for me (and most likely my colleague.)
A great deal of my guidance in the curation movement has come from trainings from Indiana DOE rep and edtech demi-god @YancyUnger and his Getting the Horse to Drink blog. Yancy describes curation as moving our content out of a warehouse and into a museum. Many times as educators we try to share EVERYTHING about a topic, instead of picking out the major points and elevating them in a meaningful way. 
I am guilty of sending my teachers an email weighed down with websites with the heading "GREAT STUFF!"(warehouse) I can now see that this email was most likely met with a sneer, followed by the delete button. My teachers would be much more likely to give me some of their precious time if I send one website or resource with a brief explanation of how they might incorporate it into their curriculum (museum).
