Remembrance of September 11, 2001

Forward by Richard G

[In the spring of 2001, I retired from work, and my first goal was to get back in shape and qualify for Boston as a 60 year old. I chose the Dublin Marathon in October of 2001 as my qualifying race.  I trained hard all summer, and the Philly Half on September 16^th was to be my “Peaking Race”, just 6 weeks before Dublin.  I wrote the following article (under my screen name "Papa Bear") in the days after September 11th and after the Philly Half.]

The Philadelphia Half-marathon
A Personal Journey

By Papa Bear

The Week Monday: Monday was to be the last hard workout prior to the Philly Half the following Sunday. I felt recovered from the beautiful Palisades run the previous Saturday and I was ready to go. According to my training plan, I had stayed away from all races and speed workouts until the beginning of September. Philly was to be the first real race in preparation for my running the Dublin Marathon. For the first time in almost a year I would run a race full out. Many months of hard training were behind me and now at last I would get some feedback on how I was doing. It was a long time to wait and I was a bit apprehensive. My goal for Philly was to break 1:40:00, something I hadn’t done in 2½ years. The workout was 5 x 800 in 3:20. I warmed up a couple of miles and got to the 6th Street track on the East River at about 8:00 AM. I hit the intervals in 3:24, 3:17, 3:20, 3:19 and 3:20. I was exhausted but happy as I ran the mile back home as a cool down. As I said in a note to a friend that day: "The intervals went fine … pretty damn consistent. I am getting confident and really positive about Philly and then Dublin. … We can do lunch on Friday … you can wish me well for Philly." Tuesday, Sept. 11 2001, 8:48 AM - the world changed: I was on a train to visit my elderly aunt in Westchester. When we got off the train around 10:00 o’clock, we couldn’t believe what we were hearing. The images on TV were like scenes from a movie. All day we spent our time watching the drama unfold and trying to call everyone, our family, our friends who worked downtown, everyone, anyone. We couldn’t get back to Manhattan and stayed overnight with my aunt. It was a sleepless night. We wondered every time we heard a plane, what it was, was it another. Wednesday: I thought about the half marathon I was supposed to do and I didn’t know if I should go, I didn’t know if it would be held, I didn’t know if I could get there even if I wanted to go. I read an email message from Ed (thank God he was safe!) that there would be a group run that night in the Park in lieu of the regular speed workout. I knew it would help to go, so I went up and met the group. We had some discussion and a moment of silence and then we started north around the park. I couldn’t help but think of that night in September 1995 when I ran alone along this same path in the twilight and ran by the candles in memory of Maria Montiero who was killed while running in the Park the previous Sunday. In reflection at that time I wrote: "There were flowers on one side of the road and candles lighting the twilight on the other . . . What can one do? . . . When we lose one of our own we are all diminished . . . The only answer is to help, to care, to love one another." The flowers and candles are back again, but the same answer is true, truer today than ever before. We only have each other! While walking back to get my bag I saw a chalk message scrawled by de la Vega on 79th Street: "An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind" Thursday: On Thursday, the web site for the Philly Half said that the event would go on as planned. I decided, based in part by the lift to my spirit from last night’s run that I would go. I emailed those whom I knew to be going and Terry affirmed that he too felt it was the right thing to do. I took the day off from running. Later that day, my daughter called from her home in Portland, Oregon and said the one thing she wished she had was anT-shirt. I was touched in a nice way by this. Friday: It was raining on Friday morning and I went for an easy run with Sarah. We headed down along the East River Park but the deep puddles blocked our progress, so we decided to just do some loops on the 6th Street track. As we made the rounds I remembered the intervals I had done here on Monday, just 4 days but an eternity ago. Lunch with my friend was cancelled. She was going home to be with her mom. She had lost 2 close friends. "I need to go home.   Good luck this weekend. I hope that you have a great run! We're so lucky we can run." Yes, we are so very lucky! I found a poem on the Internet written by the English Poet Siegfried Sassoon, who served in the trenches in World War I. The Dragon and the Undying - published in 1917. I found it strangely prophetic, and the images perhaps more relevant today than they were at the time they were set down: The Dragon and the Undying by Siegfried Sassoon (1917) All night the flares go up; the Dragon sings And beats upon the dark with furious wings; And, stung to rage by his own darting fires, Reaches with grappling coils from town to town; He lusts to break the loveliness of spires, And hurls their martyred music toppling down Yet, though the slain are homeless as the breeze, Vocal are they, like storm-bewilder'd seas. Their faces are the fair, unshrouded night, And planets are their eyes, their ageless dreams. Tenderly stooping earthward from their height, They wander in the dusk with chanting streams, And they are dawn-lit trees, with arms up-flung, To hail the burning heavens they left unsung Saturday: I took the train down to Philadelphia but didn’t find anyone I knew either at the station or on the train. I got to the hotel and checked in and then went in to get my number. The energy of the crowd felt good and except for some grating music that seemed out of place, it was good to be with these fit and energetic folks. I met up with David and Marge, and we did a little catching up. I then bumped into Moninne from my Tuesday night group, and then I saw Joel, Simone, Jay and finally Terry and Anne. It was good to be among friends. I wasn’t up for anything organized, so I wandered down to the lobby to decide where to go by myself. There I unexpectedly ran into my old friend C. She had a happy glowing look on her face and somehow seemed to escape the somberness most people were feeling. She came over and, after a hug, said: "I’m expecting twins". This short announcement literally turned my mood around. The wonder and excitement of new life drove away the negative thoughts, and some of C’s happiness infected me. Then I saw Debbie and Joel, together with some of their group, and realizing I belonged with friends, I invited myself along to the dinner they had organized. We took a few cabs to the Spaghetti Warehouse, and there we met more of the group.   We had a fun meal where talk alternated between politics and personal matters: a new girl friend, a hair color, what to have for dessert. I was pretty somber, and mostly stayed out of the conversation, but when I looked over at C, her obvious happy glow cheered my spirit. We returned to the hotel, very full and tired, and I slept better than I had for the last 4 nights. The Race Sunday, Race day: I got up about 6:30 AM and was remarkably well organized, considering my mental state. I ate something and got dressed for the race. I jogged to the start, about a mile. There some Gospel Music was playing loudly on the PA system, but this time it was more uplifting than grating. Before the start we had a moment of silence, and then the race organizer read off two bib numbers of people who were registered to be here, but were lost in the tragedy. One was for a woman named Danielle who was just turning 30. This was a chilling moment. We then held hands and all sang "God Bless America" which was quite moving. I did my best to focus on the task at hand and I was determined to do my best, and in so doing try to affirm life in the face of death. The Start: When the horn went off (I’m glad this time it wasn’t a gun) we surged forward. My part of the pack had a few bumps and stops, but by the actual starting line we were running free. The race starts down Market Street and goes over a long highway overpass just in sight of the Delaware River and turns back, emptying into Walnut Street. This is a lovely street of shops and parks. I never did see the marker for mile 1, but I tried to rein in my excitement and get into a steady pace. I was supposed to run the first two miles in 7:45s, but there was no way to know. Mile 2, 15:20: At the 2nd mile mark, the clock said 15:20. I thought I had lost about 15 seconds at the start so this gives a bit over a 7:30 pace, a bit too fast, but what can you do. (Couldn’t go back, that’s for sure.) Later I would discover that the actual start delay was close to 30 seconds, so the first 2 miles averaged 7:26. It’s probably better I didn’t know this at the time – one more thing to worry about. Mile 3, 7:34: As we came around the traffic circle by the museum, just before crossing over the river, I tried to lock myself into a steady rhythm. I repeated the mantra in my mind: [Smooth, strong. Smooth, strong.] And I fell into a more consistent, controlled pace. I noticed that underneath my mantra, another rhythm, an inner cadence, came into my mind. [dum da da dumdedum] I realized it was the tune "God Bless America" which had gotten into my head and would stay there for the entire race. I seized onto it to help steady my pace. Very often while I run, a tune will keep me company for mile after mile. [From the mountains, to the prairies, From the mountains, to the prairies,] I pushed the pace slightly to get under 7:30 per mile and felt strong as we crossed to the west side of the Schuylkill River. Mile 4, 7:28: As we started moving down the lovely parkway along the river, I noticed the beautiful old trees along both sides. I had a fleeting thought of the image of the spirits embodied in the trees in the Sassoon poem, and also thought of how this country is not just steel and concrete, brick and mortar, but trees, water and all the beauty of nature together with strong determined people like those around me now, which could not be taken from us. [From the mountains, to the prairies, To the oceans, white with foam.] Mile 5, 7:20: Miles 4 and 5 had been solid and strong. For some reason my thoughts suddenly turned to cell phones and those poignant messages that went out from those facing death. I though to myself what would I say if I could call Joy or the kids one last time, and had only a few seconds to talk? In practically all the conversations we read about, no one talked of hate or of revenge. It was just one thing. It was everything. "I love you". In the end there is nothing else. [I love you. I love you I love you. I love you.] Mile 6, 7:34: After a couple of miles on the parkway my pace fell off slightly and I knew I needed some help. Ahead of me I saw a young man who looked strong who was running just slightly faster than me. Call him "Red Shorts, No Shirt" (RSNS). I connected myself to RSNS and let him pull me along. I slowly closed the gap and stayed with him for about 2 miles. Mile 7, 7:26: My pace and strength was steady but I noticed a slight twinge in my right hamstring. I decided to squelch this with a new mantra: [Strong form, strong form. Strong form, strong form.] At around 8 miles we cross Falls Bridge back to the east side of the Schuylkill and head back to the finish. As we approached the bridge I was able to pass RSNS and move ahead. My hamstring felt better but now I needed a new helper. [Stand beside her, and guide her Thru the night with a light from above.] Mile 8, 7:26: The marker for mile 8 is right in the middle of the bridge. When I hit my watch, I somehow hit the wrong button, and suddenly it was off in some weird mode. I was discombobulated and almost decided to give up keeping my splits, but finally I pulled myself together, got my watch back into the right mode and relaxed. It’s funny how a little unexpected stupid thing like that can break your concentration. I looked for another helper and saw "Woman with Short Hair and Tattoo" (WWSSH&T). But after trying for a couple of minutes, I couldn’t hold on to her, so I cast about, without success, for another helper. Mile 9, 7:21: At mile 9 WWSH&T started coming back to me so I made another attempt to connect. This time I could hold on and I felt that, unlike last year at this point, my strength would not fall off in these backstretch miles. I held on to WWSH&T. [Thru the night with a light from above. From the mountains, to the prairies,] Mile 10, 7:26: By mile 10, I knew I would make my goal of 1:40. But wouldn’t you know it, a voice in my head started to say: "OK, you’ve made your goal, now slow down." I pushed to resist this temptation and hold my pace. It was not so hard physically as it was mentally. Mile 11, 7:21: Around mile 11, I was running next to WWSH&T. She had helped me through this difficult period and I felt bad to move ahead of her but I knew I must do that. As RSNS had done, WWSH&T had done what she had come here to do. [From the mountains, to the prairies, To the oceans, white with foam.] The 12th mile goes up a gradual incline to the Museum. Hardly perceptible if you were driving, this mile can sap your remaining strength and slow your pace if you are unprepared – physically or mentally. Mile 12, 7:34: The split was slightly slower, but the incline was past and now there was nothing left to do but just do it. My mind and body complained that surely I could slow down now, but I endeavored to go on. I tried to look good for the photographer at the traffic circle but I’m afraid I just looked beat – which I was. There was no 13th mile marker, but later I calculated I had done a 7:19 for this last full mile. Don’t ask me how this came to be my fastest mile, but I guess I just hung in there. I wish there was a way to remember how to make these efforts, but it just has to happen when it happens. In the last 0.1 mile, who should pass me, but RSNS!  But this was OK, he had done what he came for, and now he could do his own thing. At the last, we’re all on our own. [God bless America, my home sweet home. God bless America, my home, sweet home!] Finish, 1:38:03 (chip 1:37:35): Home! Yes, home, sweet home. Staggering past the finish line, I was exhausted, almost sick. I had given it my best shot. My time was very satisfying, and there was no doubt that the positive energy had trumped the negative. At the last, we’re not all on our own, but we’re all in it together! My time was the best I have done in 4 years and my pace was more consistent than I had ever done before. At long last, my training showed some real positive feedback. I got some refreshments and started to look for friends who had finished, and I noticed that subconsciously, my inner cadence had changed its tune. No longer was "God Bless America" going through my head but suddenly it was that old Sinatra Favorite: "New York, New York". Maybe it was the conversations with strangers who, seeing my New York Flyer singlet, would ask: "Are you from there?" "Did you know anyone?" It was clear that people from everywhere cared a great deal about our hometown. The tune would simply not leave my head and stayed in my subconscious even on the train ride home. [Start spreadin’ the news, I’m leavin’ today, I want to be a part of it - New York, New York.] I bumped into WWSH&T on the refreshment line and thanked her for pulling me along from mile 9 through 11. She recognized me and thanked me also. She said I had helped pull her along and had finished just seconds behind me. It was good to know that energy can flow both ways and can help both, when two runners are pushing each other. (Or two people are helping each other!) [These vagabond shoes are longing to stray Right through the very heart of it - New York, New York.] I found first David and then almost at the same time, Marge. I caught them right at the finish so they were exhausted, looking for water, for relief, for food. I helped direct them to the food and headed back that way myself. [I wanna wake up in a city that doesn’t sleep And find I’m king of the hill - top of the heap.] I then found Anne, who was literally beaming; she had run a 6-minute PR! I told her I was very happy with my time too, but no, it was not a PR. (My PR was in 1990 and I won’t be seeing that again.) [These little town blues are melting away, I’ll make a brand new start of it in old New York.] I circled back again and ran into first Jay and then Moninne, Jo, Joel and Debbie and the whole Tuesday night group together with the crowd I had dinner with last night. There was a general feeling of accomplishment from everyone concerned. And then there was C, just standing there, glowing with a new life force. [If I can make it there, I’ll make it anywhere It’s up to you - New York, New York.] Going Home I finally headed back to the hotel to clean up and check out. And as I walked from the hotel to Suburban Station around noon, the whole race setup was practically dismantled. I suppose the locals  were glad to see this disruption to their everyday life gone. [I want to wake up in a city that never sleeps, And find I’m A number one, top of the list, king of the hill, A number one.] The train ride home was long and tiresome. I didn’t find another runner on the entire train, first the SEPTA train to Trenton, and then the NJ Transit train from Trenton to Penn Station. Numerous passengers got on, especially at 30th Street Station and at Princeton. The car was filled to overflowing, with some passengers actually standing. I sat crammed into a seat with two young Princeton co-eds who were talking about doing their laundry and other day-to-day inanities. It seemed an inordinately crowded train for mid Sunday afternoon. My stiff, tired legs were uncomfortably stuffed into the seat in front of me. [These little town blues are melting away I’m gonna make a brand new start of it in old New York.] When we passed the Newark Station and crossed the Jersey Meadows, I glanced at the lower Manhattan skyline and got my first good glimpse of that empty, ghostly skyline. My head was filled with things that couldn’t be put into words. [And If I can make it there, I’m gonna make it anywhere, It’s up to you - New York, New York.] Finally the train entered the tunnel, and I thought: It sure feels good to be home. We're gonna make a brand new start of it in old New York Yes, we can make it here, they’ll see it everywhere, It’s up to us - New York, New York. Postscript Friday, Sept. 21, 2001, 2:17 PM: Life and love have the last word! My first grandchild, is born.

[ The 2001 Dublin Marathon went well and I did qualify for Boston.  After Boston I decided marathons were getting tougher and tougher as the years went by, so I “retired” from marathons.  Now,10 years later, I’ve had second thoughts. Maybe I can qualify again, this time as a 70 year old!  So once again I’m training hard, this time for the St. George Marathon on October 1^st.  Wish me luck.

Life is short, live it fully, you only get one chance.

Rg ]

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Tribute to 9-11 -- Ten Years Later

Ed A

Foreward (10 years later)...

The morning of September 11th dawned beautiful, crisp and clear. It was one of those top 10 mornings; low humidity and a blue sky more representative of dry Colorado than the usual New York sky. I had been getting to work fairly late (for me) over the previous couple of months, but for some reason, that morning I was ready early so I headed in to work early.

Was that a mistake to go to work early that day? I don't ever think of it that way or second guess the choice to go in early because it's just the way it happened.

Fortunately, I was around to write down what happened that day, and I'm still here 10 years later to be able to share it (and some of the photos I collected) with others.  Please share your own stories in the comments section of this blog entry.

- Ed A

=====================================================

Originally printed in NY Flyers Newsletter, Fall 2001

I think I heard the sound of the plane coming just before I heard the blast. It just sounded normal. But then, it culminated in the blast. My monitor flickered and I both felt and heard the blast. My first thought, for some reason, was that a plane hit one of the towers – it felt like a sonic boom – we felt it like a wave. I had thought it was an accident. My second thought, immediately after, was that it was a bomb, or some other act of terrorism.

We ran to the windows and looked up and saw that a portion of the upper part of Tower 1 was on fire most of the way around the building that we could see. People were rushing out of the plaza. Debris was falling from the sky – papers, pieces of the building, pieces of the plane (which I think I didn’t see), and pieces of people, which I’m glad I didn’t see.

There was a lot of confusion – what the hell was that? – what should we do? I threw on my sneakers, grabbed my pack, jacket and helmet and hurried / ran to the stairs. I actually ran past the stairs but immediately realized that the stairs are what we need – not the elevator. I opened the stairs but then ran back into the office area and announced to nobody in particular or whoever was within the sound of my voice that I was leaving.

When I got to the stairs again, I realized my responsibilities as a searcher in case of fire, and decided that since the alarms hadn’t gone off and because there were so few people at work, and because I had the sense that everyone knew what had happened, I didn't need to search. I know this was rationalization, but it was what happened.

When I got into the stairs, there was a steady flow, but it was calm and easy to merge right in. I went down the stairs and out with many, many people. But the stairs led to the plaza and we were turned around and went through the lobby and out the door onto Church Street. We wound up across the street at the Millennium Hotel. Since there was no calling on cell phones (due to the systems being overwhelmed) I went in to the lobby to try to use the pay phone there. However, the line was so long I went back out again.

I was standing under the awning when my friend Howard just gasped and turned away. I asked him what the problem was, and he couldn’t answer, so I asked again, and he said “people are just jumping from the building.” I turned, and also saw people flying, in sort of a slow motion, sickening way.

Some short time later, we heard the impact of the second plane. Those of us that were outside ran into the lobby, where there were lots of other people. There was a stampede out of the lobby through the other door (which was on the side 90 degrees perpendicular). I didn’t want to get caught in the stampede so I stepped out of it with John, and we went to the window and looked out and saw similar burning in a ring of the around the second tower.

At that point I realized that since most people had left the building that possibly the pay phones would be available. I tried to use my credit card number but it wouldn’t go through but I had a couple of quarters to use. Since my friend Alesia had very recently beeped me, I got word to her and asked her to call my father at work, so he could call my brothers, and I asked her to call a couple of other people. Meanwhile, all this time, I’m getting beeped from some family and friends.

John and I walked around for a while, mostly on Broadway, one block away from the street that the WTC is on. We could see papers that only minutes before were on peoples’ desks. Edges of some of them were charred. This was very disturbing.

Eventually John started to walk uptown and I was going to grab my motorcycle and get out there also. There were many people on the street, some were just watching, others were going places with purpose, others were crying and shocked, some were somewhat injured, but not many at this point.

I tried to get to my bike and was told I couldn’t go there. By this time, the police were trying to get the area secured. I couldn’t get in one street, couldn’t get in the next one, so I went around to another and managed to get to my bike. There was a woman with her dog outside an apartment building that was 10 feet up the street from where I park my bike. She asked me whether I thought she should evacuate or not. I told her I didn’t know – I was getting out of there.

I had just gotten the bike started, and started to pull away on the sidewalk where I park. I made it about 10 feet and started to hear the noise of what sounded to me like 20 jets – it was an incredible noise. It was an all encompassing roar. All I could think was that here it comes again, only much lower. (It turned out to be the collapse of the first tower, but I didn't know it at the time.) Two other guys were on the same street and they started running. I can’t remember which way they ran - and I never saw them again.

Within about 2 or 3 seconds, roar and debris headed up the street that I was on, starting to envelope me. I jumped off the bike, remembering to turn it off with the kill switch (which cuts the engine, but not the electricity). The woman with the dog had gone into her building. There were two small steps up to the door of the apartment building and then a small step before the glass door, so there was an indentation off the plane of the outside of the building of approximately one to two feet. I jumped into that space, and tried to shield myself, but the dust was too much. I took a breath and got nothing but dust. I then thought about lack of air and suffocation, thinking about running out of air, and I realized that I would have to hold my breath. So what do you do when you're going to hold your breath? Yup - I took one more breath, trying to get that last breath before holding my breath, not fully yet realizing that I couldn’t. The instinct to fill my lungs so I could hold my breath took over.

I was acidly and painfully disabused of that notion. I knew I had to get myself inside the apartment building. I figured I had about a minute of air. I grabbed the door and it wouldn’t open. I pulled on it a few times and still nothing. I then decided that I would break down the door no matter what it took – I felt I could do that - it was a glass door. So now I grabbed both handles to the door and got ready to pull really hard. But fortunately the left door was open. I remember thinking “how stupid of me – I need to remember to check both doors if some need like this ever arises again”. The whole thing took maybe about 5 to 10 seconds.

I got into the hallway but I couldn’t see anything. My eyes and mouth and nose were filled with ash – I was completely covered. I couldn’t open my eyes. However, the air inside the building was smoky, but not as dusty. I yelled out for the woman and after a couple of yells, she responded. She said to come where she was, but I had to yell to her that I couldn’t open my eyes and couldn’t see anything. She led me with her voice and shortly after reached out and touched me. I was now starting to be able to get use of my eyes. By now the noise had stopped.

She headed up the stairs because that’s where her husband was and she had no other thoughts of what to do. I went also because at that point, she was my lifeline. I wasn’t going back out. It did get less smoky and dark as we headed up. As we made it up to the third or fourth floor, others that were in the building, including her husband, and the super with a flashlight, were on the way down. Someone with more authoritative commands then I could muster at that point was getting us out of the building. Getting out of there seemed to be the best thing anyway, and I sure wasn’t staying alone so I tied my fortunes in with these 5 people. We then headed down and out of the building.

There was scaffolding outside that building that had been erected about 2 weeks before in preparation for work on the exterior of the building. I think that helped shield me from debris also. Outside of the building, it was like nighttime. The sun was completely gone. It was nighttime. I think there was power on but I’m not sure. My motorcycle was right outside the door with its lights still on with the helmet right next to it (I didn’t have my helmet on when this happened). I turned off the key, locked it, and we headed out.

The world was gone. There was about 4 to 6 inches of ash on the ground and just in the street was a piece of the World Trade Tower. I still didn’t know what had happened. Since we were south of the World Trade Center, we all knew to go further south. We covered out faces with our shirts using the bottom over my nose and mouth as best as possible. As we headed south, we ran into more people also trying to get away from there.

We could probably see about 20 to 40 feet or so. I think the streetlights were on. Either that or there was enough ambient light. But the sky was very low above us. The world above a certain point, not very high, had just disappeared.

One guy ran up to us and said we should get to a building a ways down the street where there was fresh air coming out of some vents. He was running in the opposite direction saying he had to go find someone. He wanted our flashlight, but at this point, it was still too dark to give it up. We didn’t yet feel like we were in any sort of comfort zone. We weren’t running, but we were walking very purposefully. I was completely covered in the dust and ash.

As we headed further south, near Battery Park, the sky started getting lighter. It was still a white sheet, but a little further away and a little whiter, with each step we took. In the park, 3 of the people from the group went south and the super, his wife and I went towards the east. They were headed towards her brother’s place which was nearby.

On our way east, the sky started brightening, and started to get blue. We passed a couple of dollies of water jugs, the kind that turns over and goes into the water coolers. We opened one of them and I was able to wash some of the stuff off my face and have a drink.

As we were walking, we started talking about my motorcycle, and I asked the super if there was any chance he would look after it. I gave him my key. He gave me his cell phone number. At this point, I still didn’t have a clue as to the extent of the destruction.

As we reached their destination, another women asked us directions. I told her I was going that way and immediately adopted her. Her name was Susan. As we started to head the remaining few blocks to the east side, I again heard that terrible noise that sounded like those 20 jets, but less this time because we were much further away. We ran further east. I still didn’t know that the building had collapsed. I still thought there was another plane getting in to attack another building. I wanted to get as far away from the tall buildings as possible – towards the river.

Again, the noise happened, but the impact never happened. I had no idea of what was going on. There were others heading north on South Street and walking on the FDR. I now wanted to get out of downtown as quickly as possible. We headed north walking with many of the other people. It wasn’t as crowded as 7th Avenue near Macy’s some days, but it was a very steady flow. There were people walking up both sides of the street and in the street so people weren't packed together. If you wanted to get past someone you had to wiggle a bit, but not bad at all.

People in all the fish markets were standing outside with their hoses and paper towels offering them to people. I stopped twice to wash my face off again and to drink some more. Susan and I were walking at a pace that wasn’t fast, but sure seemed to be faster than many others. We passed people but were never passed.

Susan had one of those newfangled Blackberry email things and had gotten email from her brother with the subject “RUN: THE TOWER IS GONE!!!!!“ That’s when I started to get an inkling of what had happened but I was still not sure. Of course, we couldn’t see either tower, but it still didn’t make sense. There was a huge cloud of smoke headed towards Brooklyn.

During this time, I had gotten beeped by a lot of friends and one of my brothers. I couldn’t quite figure out why my father hadn’t called them. Was he not at work? I used the Blackberry to email a friend to tell him I was okay – he could spread that word – and also asked him to call my father at work. He emailed back and told me my father was on vacation. Duh! I could call him, but the number was on my refrigerator. At some point, Alesia beeped me and said she was leaving work and going to my house.

We continued north, along with many others. I didn’t notice the numbers getting much larger. I guess most everyone north of the World Trade Center just headed straight north up the avenues they were near. There was some traffic on the FDR, with some cars going north, and more emergency vehicles going south. At some point we read an electronic sign that said “Manhattan Closed South Of Canal Street”. It made sense to me, but still, the incomprehensibleness of all that had happened made the sign all the more surreal.

There’s a park on the east river which we walked up. We stopped at a fountain in the park and had more to drink. I went to use the bathroom, which was partially under construction, and there was a group of people standing near the bathroom building. At first I thought they were on line, but as I got closer, I realized they were standing around a car that had the radio on. All I could think of was like it was some movie and that we had huge destruction and everyone was trying to get as much information as possible over a system that didn’t have much information. (Obviously lack of information was only what I thought, not the reality).

We left the confines of the park at 34th street, and we reached the traffic trying to get onto or through first avenue, which was pretty much a parking lot. Cars trying to get north. Emergency vehicles trying to get through first avenue to the FDR. But still, it was reasonably orderly.

As we got further from downtown, the “victims” like myself became fewer and fewer. One person asked me if I was down there, and I said yes, and he said “you got a lot of shit on you, dude”. We stopped in a pizza place for a drink and it was business as usual, although not exactly with the usual feeling. Or at least that's how I viewed it through some very strange eyes.

Our intended destination was an address that Susan had for her sister on 29th street and Park, so on our way we stopped at my friend Laura’s apartment. Laura’s sister-in-law, Marie, who also worked downtown, was there. They had the TV on. Marie said she actually saw the first tower disappear. That’s when I started to understand what had happened. I cleaned up and took out and rinsed my contact lenses and then put them back in. Much better!

We had a chance to use the phone so I called my home and spoke to Alesia I needed the number to the hotel where my dad was staying so I asked her to go to the refrigerator, and then look right in front at the top. She couldn’t figure out what I was talking about until she realized I was talking about the outside of the refrigerator, and she was looking inside. The number was on a piece of paper on the refrigerator - not in the refrigerator.

She gave me my dad’s number and I called the hotel and asked if Abe Altman was registered there, and the guy who answered said he was just packing up the car. I said “I’m from NY – is it possible for me to talk to him”. The guy immediately went and got him. I thought that was really nice. Dad had just talked to my sister-in-law Kellie who told him I was alright, but it was still nice for me to be able to talk to him and for him to hear from me.

It turns out Susan's sister didn't live on 29th street, but she was able to find out where her sister really lived. It was on the west side at 69th and Amsterdam. So we headed there, but decided to stop where her brother-in-law worked, which was 34th near Madison. The people in the building told us they had just left. We headed up Madison, thinking about getting a bus, but that wasn’t really happening, although some buses were running.

We headed north up Madison, past FAO Schwartz and over to Central Park. We walked through the park, and in the park, I realized that Susan was getting really tired so we stopped and sat for about 10 minutes. I thought it was a good time for her to sit down, take a few breaths and try to settle herself a little bit more. She was still shaking. The sky was incredibly blue and the trees are beginning to change. It really was beautiful.

In the park it was business as usual. People running, people riding in the carriages, people riding bicycles. The effect of the attack was still there but much more subdued. We got up and walked the rest of the way across the park. On the streets outside the park, there was a very low volume of traffic. We made it to Susan’s sister’s place and I safely deposited Susan with her sister and brother-in-law.

I headed home across the park, occasionally still trying to make cell phone calls, but it was still not happening. I got home and Alesia was there holding down the command center. She answered the phone when it rang and was able to tell a lot of people that I was okay. It was very helpful.

I spent the rest of the day sending and answering emails, talking on the phone, and generally doing okay. It really felt good that people were so concerned – it helped me knowing how lucky I was to be associated with and surrounded by such quality people. It was a very hard day, but it didn’t affect me as much as it might have because I still had the adrenaline from having not been more injured or killed. I was not the closest but quite possibly one of the closest civilians there when the first tower fell.

As this was all happening I really don’t think I panicked much. There was no time for fear, only survival. I learned a lot of lessons here that I hope I never, ever, ever have to use again.

Ed A.

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