A Re-Hash That is Still Relevant

Regularly scheduled Blogs will return soon. I apologize for the interruption.

Meanwhile, since I can't escape it, here is an old blog entry I wrote elsewhere a couple of years ago:

I hate this day. It's a day filled with "tributes" and "memorials" and endless rehashing of that devastating day in 2001. I remember that day all too well, it's too hard to have to watch it all over again.

I was fortunate that I worked in midtown and didn't have to deal with the terror and panic of being right down there and I was fortunate that I lost no one close to me.

But I do remember. I remember coming out of a meeting to find that we all had messages from members of our families. I remember our receptionist telling us that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. I remember trying to call back my sister and brother and being unable to get a line out. I remember watching on a small TV in my boss's office as the second tower was hit. And watching the towers fall. I remember finally getting through to my brother (who worked for the phone company). I remember the fear when he asked if I had heard from Suzie (our youngest sister) who had left early that morning to head into the city on her route as a record label rep (which included stores in the mall in the WTC).

I remember being thankful for the internet so I could keep in touch via instant messaging and email, with my family when none of the phones or cell phones would work. I remember the intense relief when Suzie finally e-mailed me to let me know she hadn't been down there, but was now stuck out on Long Island when they closed all the bridges and tunnels. I remember being touched by all the emails from friends in different parts of the country, asking if I was okay.

I remember the uncertainty leaving the office around noon wondering if I would be able to get home again (to New Jersey). Then being overwhelmed when I walked out to 5th Avenue and looked south. The huge plume of smoke and dust made my knees buckle. I remember walking across Manhattan to the river and passing groups of people standing in the middle of deserted roads looking south, some crying, most just standing there in shock. I remember waiting in line almost 2 hours to get on a ferry back across the river, with people covered in dust and dirt and in shock. I remember how nice and polite everyone standing single file on that line was.

I remember finally making it home and re-watching everything on TV and being in tears. I remember getting up the next morning and taking my sister's dogs (I was dogsitting because her apartment was supposed to have an exterminator come in on Tuesday) for a walk down to the river front smelling the acrid smoke and dust that the wind was now carrying across to us. And I called my boss to tell him I would not come into the city that day.

I remember going back into the city on Thursday and being devastated all over again by all the makeshift memorials that had popped up in Bryant Park. All the missing posters were overwhelming. I remember what was once a 30 minute commute by bus becoming a 2 1/2 hour commute for weeks.

I remember not knowing what to say to a young woman who worked for a client, who had suffered a miscarriage in April, lost her husband on 9/11 and found out she was pregnant again two weeks after that day.

I remember it was over a year before I could bring myself to set foot in that area of Manhattan. I remember losing it in St. Paul's Chapel and having to leave.

Four years later, I remember accompanying a friend from out of town to Ground Zero and once again losing it in St. Paul's and having to leave.

And I remember being on the crosstown bus this morning during the moment of silence and seeing all the construction workers gathered silently holding American flags and having to put on my sunglasses so people wouldn't see me welling up.

I remember. I don't need the endless reminders.