I didn’t grow up in the canyons
of Manhattan or in the boroughs of Brooklyn or the Bronx but rather in the
pastoral drumlins of an apple orchard near Lake Ontario. I’m from New York.
I wasn’t working in a high-rise building
then running for my life as two towers of American strength & ingenuity
fell to the ground. I was working in Berkeley, California across the Bay from
San Francisco, the financial capital of the American West. United 93 was originally
bound for SFO.
I was up early and watching CNN
& GMA from my hotel room as I prepared for a normal day. I heard Diane
& Charlie tell us as the day changed from anything but normal. In the space
of seventeen minutes the world was different, terrifyingly and forever changed.
September 11th Blue became a color we would recognize; pure, clear
and cloudless.
When Washington DC was attacked
we knew it was war. The only question for me, and millions of Americans was, “Who
is the enemy?”
I’m from New York but my home is
in Pennsylvania. Shanksville, Somerset, Pennsylvania is about 80 miles
from where I lived then and now. It was Pittsburgh’s local news teams that were
early on the scene showing the world the images that resulted from the heroism on
Flight 93.
As the smoke and tears filled that
morning, we all wanted answers to “why?” had this happened to our great country.
How could it be that the Twin Towers had crumbled in one hundred and two
minutes? Our capital was attacked. There was a hole in the Pentagon. A field in
Pennsylvania was scarred with burnt jet fuel and a giant crater.
How many were killed? How many
had escaped? In the subsequent days we heard many chronicles of lives lost,
dreams buried. We saw the dramatic efforts made by first responders and other volunteers
who toiled for weeks in the rubble. I didn’t know until a year later about the various
ships that carried hundreds of thousands of survivors across the river to safety
in New Jersey. These captains were among the unsung heroes whose stories we would
hear later.
People lined up to give blood. We
stood together and joined hands and prayed. Donations were made to survivor
funds and foundations. Memorials were erected across our great nation and
around the world. People told their stories. We came to realize we were truly
one nation pulling together, healing from tragedy. We must continue to do this.
I’m from New York. I’m an
American and I remember.
