So Young Now...

9-11
I feel like I really have no right to write about 9-11. So many people lost so much on that day, and in my mind, those are the people who can write an authoritative story or post on this topic. I have only a few musings. The day was emotional for me, as I am sure it was for every American, or anyone with even a remote connection in any corner of the world. Before 2001, 9-11 to me was my good friend's anniversary--- a day to celebrate, a day that evoked happiness. I feel badly for my friend because she "lost" the happiness from her anniversary, I am sure it will never be the same to her. Of course, that is a small loss compared to what others faced that day, but a loss nonetheless.

I grew up in New York, so I certainly knew the city well. I had never been up in the World Trade Center, until about 6 months before 9-11. In the spring of 2001, Kurt and I took a weekend trip to NYC, and for reasons we both don't know, we decided to go up to the tower observation deck---we enjoyed the breathtaking views, and had an enjoyable day. We have no idea why we were compelled to go up there---it certainly was not on the list of things I had ever had a great desire to do. Maybe the towers just moved us that day....

I am sure everyone remembers where they were on 9-11-01. I was in my office preparing an ER physician for his deposition. We were in a skyscraper, but were only on the 18th floor. One of the support staff got a call and was told to turn on the television, so the doctor and I were alternately preparing for the case, and keeping an eye on the television in the conference room to see what was unfolding. My co-defense counsel arrived, and we were waiting for the plaintiff's counsel to take the deposition. Shortly after 10am, he called to say he was getting out of town, and he would not be taking the deposition. I raised hell and told him that we were here, that my doctor managed to hobble in here on crutches, we were ready to go forward, and he would be seeing a motion for sanctions from me in discovery court if he did not come and get this deposition taken. I think he got out of town--- he certainly didn't come to take the deposition. The city started shutting down after that, and my friend and I ended up watching the news coverage at the Irish Pub, I suppose it was drowning our sorrows, although we really were lost and had no idea what else to do (there was no getting out of the city for us, we lived there!). Kurt's company was probably the only business in the entire city that didn't close that day! I think often of how something that I thought was so important, getting the deposition taken, pales in comparison to the magnitude of the situation that was unfolding everywhere else. Of course, there was no motion for sanctions filed...

My uncle was not in the towers but worked nearby. After spending enormous amounts of time and energy getting out of lower Manhattan, he ran into a friend who had been in the towers, but escaped. I don't know his friend's name, but let's call him John Smith. As they were walking across the Brooklyn Bridge together, with all the rubble and the chaos all around them, a piece of paper floated down in the air in front of them. The paper said "From the desk of John Smith!" It was his!

My thoughts are with everyone who lost someone or something that day. When I moved to Downingtown, I met someone who eventually became a good friend of mine. It was about a year after we met that she told me that she made it out of the towers that day---and so did many of the people she supervised...but not everyone. She lost friends, and a whole lot more that day, and I can't even begin to imagine what life is like for her, that this horror is only a memory away. The memory can pop up when you don't expect it to, when you don't want it to, and will be there no matter how hard you try to forget it. Although seven years have elapsed, I can't imagine that something like this gets any better.