Sunny late summer mornings in Northern New Jersey are beautiful and this day was no exception. The sky was clear and the sun was bright. The air was already saying it was early fall. Living west of my workplace meant that sun glare would cause delays and make for a longer commute to work. Thankfully, my job didn’t start until 9am. Nevertheless, I was running behind which was often the case, especially with an 18 month boy at home with my wife, Tina. While traveling Route 10 in Morris county, I listened to the local Christian station for a while and figuratively rolled my eyes at the annoying traffic. Many of the schools were starting back and that made the traffic even worse. I didn’t like being late although it happened fairly frequently. I was just over halfway to work when I grew tired of the radio station, so a few minutes before 9 I switched the radio to the local (NYC) Top 40 station. It didn’t take long before I realized by the tone of Scott Shannon’s voice that something was wrong. He said something along the lines of, “We’re not sure exactly what has happened, but it is something horrible.” I woke up a little more and switched to news radio at WABC in New York. It was then I found out that what appeared to be a plane had flown into one of the towers of the World Trade Center. They went to the phones where an eyewitness on the streets in Manhattan began to recount what he had seen. I was amazed…and shocked! I imagined in my head a small private plane and an explosion as I listened intently to what this guy was describing…but it wasn’t over. Just then, the caller exclaimed, “Oh my God, another one!. The other tower is hit! The heat!…” My jaw dropped and my hand covered my mouth- a gesture I had never remembered making before and hope to never make again. I was completely shocked as I moved over a couple lanes to exit off route 10 in Parsippany to make the last few turns into my work. I wondered if the cars around me had heard what I had heard. And were they were struggling to drive because of it. Thoughts rushed through my head as I continue to listened. I remember WABC having an “expert” on soon after who said, “Well, it’s too early to determine whether this was a true act of terrorism or not.” That remains the most ridiculous thing I remember hearing on that day. Everybody knew. It wasn’t wondering whether it was terrorism, it was wondering who the terrorists were.
I arrived at work and went to the row where my desk was and asked if anyone had heard what had happened. I can’t remember who had or hadn’t, but I do remember telling one of the managers about it as well. Later, before I left New Jersey for North Carolina, he told me he would never forget me, because I was the one who told him about what had happened that morning. I don’t know how I feel about being remembered this way. I wasn’t the scar, but I was telling Frank he was about to have one. I did the same, I’m sure, when I told my wife over the phone to “Turn on the news.” News travelled quickly in the office of course, and with it feelings of shock and adrenaline. My boss actually told us to keep working. Really? Work? There was no way to concentrate. We were paralyzed. But work? Not anytime soon, I’m sure. You need focus for that. About an hour later, someone got wind of the Pentagon, but that was further away and my head couldn’t digest that now that the numbness had set in. Someone then heard that the first tower had collapsed. I thought perhaps a few hundred people would be killed at impact and that those below would simply walk down the stairs and out into the street, and those above would be rescued by helicopters. I remembered thinking that if it collapsed straight downward that couldn’t be too bad because surely everyone was out of the tower by then. It was a naive thought, but it’s still in my head. We were numb. We would be for, not hours, but days. By late morning, we were leaving for home. Traffic was heavy again with everyone thinking the same thing; “I just want to be home with my family.” I remember hugging my wife and then watching the news…all day. It was ironic to see my 18 month old play while this was all unfolding. He had no idea. Actually, I still don’t know if he has an idea. It might be a discussion tonight…
Time becomes hazy and you don’t remember all of your thoughts, but you remember some. I didn’t know any one who worked in the Trade Center towers, but I knew plenty of people who could have been there that morning “on business.” I worried about them. I lived within the commuting distance to Manhattan, and some people within our borough were lost, but I didn’t know any of them. Newscasters spoke of 20,000 estimated deaths in the towers. There was a sense of irony and relief each time the estimate was lowered. Sometime during that day I recall thinking how grateful I was for the first day of school and sun glare. Surely less people had made it to the WTC on time for work due to the change in traffic patterns.
The days that followed were a blur as well. It was back to work on the 12th but I don’t recall if I stayed the whole day. There is one part of the trip on Route 10 where you are up on a large hill and you can see out over New Jersey. That morning, there was a plume of smoke on the horizon. Living a good 45-60 minutes from the City, I couldn’t believe I saw what I saw, but I am all but positive that this it. When I was at work, I wondered if our building would be a target. It sounds irrational now, but that was the thought. I taught a class at a local community college. My first lecture after the attack, my students just stared at me. Their eyes were clearly saying, “Please don’t make us think. We can’t concentrate.” It was still too soon to resume “life” so I sent them home. Somewhere in the midst of it all, life began again, but thoughts remain. I remember more than one Sunday at church imagining some terrorist coming into the church in the middle of the service and firing on us. I had plans in my mind on how I would react if this happened. A few weeks later the anthrax attack, which originated in NJ, hit the news as well. Within a week, white powder had been sent to our church. We had a guest speaker that weekend and we ended up borrowing a local reservation hall and having our service their. Nothing became of the white powder, but it was still terrorism. A month later, I had a week of training in the CBS building in Manhattan. Taking the train in, there was one point where you could see the skyline. Looking at it without those buildings was like looking at someone for the first time after they had lost a limb. Your brain just didn’t want to compute the change and it hit me once again. During training, people were still talking about it. Those who live in the city would talk about the lingering smell from the rubble. Going home from training, I’d take the subway back to New York Penn and find armed military personnel throughout the station. I found myself thankful for their out-of-place presence. From then on, the memories faded. This was the deepest part of the wound. The most central part of the scar. But like scars, memories fade, especially around the edges. Above is what remains. Many have taken time over the past eight years to pause, remember and honor. I have never been too much for that. Of course I remember. I may even pause. I think now is the first time, I have truly tried to recall my thoughts from eight years ago. There were many of them that have been forgotten, but this is what remains of that time. Some scars fade and some disappear. Some remain and become part of who you are.
