This morning, after watching tv for a bit and hearing other people reminiscing about that day, I couldn't help but think about it a bit myself.
I had just moved to New York to be a nanny for a family with three kids. The two oldest kids had already caught the school bus and I was cleaning up breakfast while the youngest, Madison, colored in a coloring book on the counter. My employers were pretty strict about me not watching tv while watching the kids - I think they had had a nanny before me that neglected the kids because she was watching tv, but I don't know for sure - so I didn't have a clue what had happened until one of my new friends, Heather, called me up to see if I was watching the news. I explained that I wasn't supposed to watch tv but she insisted I turn the tv on immediately. I turned it on just a few minutes before the second plane crashed into the second tower.
A short time later, my employer called to check up on me and Madison and suggested that I call my parents to assure them I was okay. They knew that I didn't live in Manhattan so hadn't been too worried, but they were glad to hear from me any way.
That week was so emotional. The radio stations were full of stories of people who had lost loved ones and were hoping against hope that they were still alive, of people who were supposed to have been in the towers when the planes crashed into them but hadn't been for a myriad of reasons, of people who had loved ones killed and who wanted to honor their memory. I couldn't go anywhere in my car without stopping at least once to have a good cry on the side of the road.
Three days later, that Friday, my friend Jennifer (whose older sister was my high school best friend, Melissa) and I had tickets to see The Phantom of the Opera on Broadway. We weren't sure if the production was still going to be held, so I called the theater. They were going ahead with the show as planned, so that afternoon, after we were both off of work, we took the train into the City.
We had both been in New York for just three weeks when we had taken our first trip into Manhattan; it was the Saturday before September 11. We were like two country bumpkins in the big city - even though I had lived in Montreal, a very large city, it was nothing compared to the lights, hustle, and bustle of NYC. I remember standing in Time Square amazed. Again...country bumpkin. *smile* At one point during the day, we took a bus that stopped at a stop light directly in front of the World Trade Center towers. We looked up at the towers and agreed that next weekend we'd go to the top of them. The next weekend, they didn't exist.
That Friday we went into the city for the play, it was eerily different from the week before. Imagine Manhattan as a ghost town - that's exactly what it felt like. There were people, but not many, and most of them were uniformed police officers. Lights were off, even in Time Square. Everything was somber. It wasn't the same city.
The theater district was trying to keep things alive and thankfully, there were enough theater-goers to keep it going during this rough time. I'm pleased that I was one of them. Our tickets weren't very good ones but when we showed our reservation at the ticket counter, we were given really great seats since the there had been many cancellations and no-shows. I had the soundtrack for the show memorized and had seen the play once in LA but from far away and before I had started wearing glasses so hadn't really seen the show until that night. It was enchanting and for a few hours, we weren't in NYC any more but in Paris.
Eventually, I made my way to Ground Zero and saw the rubble left behind by the tragic events of Sept 11. When my mom came for Thanksgiving, we went again and she was able to get amazing photos with her quality camera. Somewhere, I have a photo album that displays pictures I took on my first day in Manhattan, just a few days before Sept 11, and then shots from the same angle when my mom was there - showing the different skyline.
I don't like dwelling on the events of September 11 very often. It's one of the reasons I've never written a post about it. It was an awful day followed by an emotional week. However, I like remembering the spirit of compassion and unity that the country felt for a long time afterward. When my mom and I were at Ground Zero months later, that spirit still existed as people helped each other and were patient waiting for their turn to take pictures and pay their respects. It was unlike any "tourist trap" I'd ever been to or have been to since. People were nice! *smile*
I can't believe it's been 12 years. So much has happened in the world and in my own life since that day. I'm thankful for all the blessings I enjoy, especially on this day for the opportunity to live in the United States of America. It isn't a perfect country but it's full of wonderful people, most of whom are doing their best to do and to be their best.