Thursday, September 11, 2008


We all have our memories of where we were, whom we were with, what we were doing on That Day, seven years ago. My experience was more benign than that of many NYers---I was still at home that morning, late getting to work at around 9 am, when the call came from David Parker --‘have you been watching? You need to turn it on…’ Flipped on the Today Show and watched, completely slack-jawed and dumbfounded as first one, then the second tower tumbled to the ground, unable to comprehend how this was physically possible and dreading to learn the fate of who knows how many trapped inside and underneath the disintegrating mass of metal, glass, and concrete. That first 90 minutes, we experienced our own Day of Infamy, as planes were beginning to drop out of the sky all over the country, crashing into Washington, who knows where next. And then, that evening, the unforgettable acrid smell, like the aftermath of a huge electrical fire, permeating the atmosphere outside my window for days. The silence in the streets. Everything shut down. Shock. Candles. CNN. Tears.

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