That morning, I brought my newborn daughter home from the hospital for the first time. We just got a delivery of a cookie basket that somebody sent, when my older brother called and couldn't believe I was unaware of what was going on. I thought I was just having a nice day off with my newly enlarged family and didn't have the television or radio on.
I spent most of the day hugging my then two-year-old son (who had no idea why I was so upset) and trying to contact various family members. My younger brother called me crying from a bar in NYC. He had a lot of business friends who worked in Cantor Fitzgerald and knew they were gone when he watched the building fall. He worked up the street from the WTC at the Travelers Building with my sister. She watched the second plane hit from the corporate lunchroom of her building. She walked down to the trading floor she runs and ordered everybody to get out and go home.
It took hours for my sister-in-law to reach my other brother. She worked in WTC 7 until that day.
The next few days were spent waiting to find out who I knew that died. I was pretty lucky. I have lots of friends who work in the financial markets downtown, so I didn't know if any of them were in those buildings that day. My friend Bob was treated and released at a hospital when a piece of glass sliced his back in the collapse. But no other close friends were harmed. My father's cousin, who I don't know well, was on the 101st floor of one of the towers when the first plane hit. He was an elevator mechanic who walked down, directing firefighters to groups of people he knew about and helping them find sources of water. He walked out about ten minutes before the building fell.
I worked a few years earlier for Marsh McLennan in midtown. I found out that after I left, they moved many in my department to the WTC. I knew a few people who died there, including an unbelievably friendly and skilled young guy I worked for. He was about to be made a director of the company. He left a wife and two kids.
It still hurts so much to remember that day. I can't thank the people who are bringing it back to those who support the ridiculous "cause" that brought that hell here. I take some solace everytime some jihadi douchebag gets blown up in the desert or some mountain cave. It's a start.
Amen, brother.
Thank you for taking the time to write that all down. It's amazing how stark the memories of that day still are (and will probably always be).
Love you.