I've been asked for this a few times, and so, as promised, here is the email I sent to my friends and family the evening of September 11, 2001. It started out innocently enough, with me wanting to tell my friends and family that I was alright. But I couldn't help trying to tell them what it was like that day, since I was placed at FDNY Headquarters in Brooklyn. I knew I had a unique perspective and felt that it was a "real" story that they could rely on through all the news coverage. This is grammatically edited but otherwise, this is the email in it's entirety, that I sent out:
September 11, 2001
9:30 pm
East Harlem, New York City
It was an unusually nice morning. Crisp, with a nice breeze flowing through - I finally thought that the heat would begin to break. It made me feel good, like it was my first real day of work for this fellowship. I needed to get into work by 8am, so I left the apartment at 6:45. Needless to say, with delays and what not (normal for NYC, that is), I didn't get into the office until about 8:20am.
After getting settled, Matt and I were chatting when we heard the alarm and the sirens. he turned to me and said, "There's a fire somewhere, they just got called." For some strange reason, I glanced to the window behind me and to the right, I saw the Twin Towers looming in the distance, the first tower billowing smoke out of the windows. Immediately, I felt a chill and said, "Holy shit, the World Trade Center is on fire!"
What happened next is already sort of a blur, but I'll never forget it.
Almost after that, I though to myself, "How interesting that I happened to be placed at FDNY Headquarters when a fire breaks out at the Twin Towers."
We shuffled into the boss' office, where he had a walkie-talkie to the Mayor and we quickly realized that we were sitting almost in the control hub of this disaster. There was quick talk of us possibly going out with the wave of firefighters from Brooklyn to observe when the news hit that it was a plane that flew into the building. Assessing the damage, Matt and I sat there silent as we realized that something quite unbelievable was happening. It was then that the second plane hit the other tower. We immediately realized that it wasn't just a coincidence. All the people in the room were repeating over and over one word as this strange day unfolded: Sabotage.
The building sirens went off as they secured the perimeter of the building, not knowing whether or not they were going to hit other government buildings. All available firemen and EMT's in the building were called to the lobby as they were soon dispatched to the scene.
We watched hopelessly murmuring as the towers continued to burn, torn between the TV screen and the window, watching it all unfold. Then, as we were lost in a flurry of activity in the office between finding phones that worked and people rushing in and out of the office, the absolute unbelievable happened as we watched the first tower begin to crumble on the TV screen, quickly turning to the window as we watched the only visible part of the building, the antenna on top, sink through the clouds of smoke that turned from thick black to grey. Immediately, I wondered if my best friend had made it out of her building in time (she lives two blocks south). I started to head towards the phone to try to contact her, but I was too numb to move.
The second building was teetering, they were saying on the news. But we couldn't tell anymore by looking out the window. The smoke had already started to move southeast into Brooklyn and all we saw was black smoke pushing the grey down. All I know is that we were praying for a miracle, that it was all just a dream. The fire alone was crazy - the firefighters couldn't get the hoses up that far, the water break wouldn't even allow them a chance to fight the fire due to the heat in the pipes. The building collapsing? Dear God, it was just too much to take in. Especially the fact that the crackle over the walkie-talkies was the guys at ground zero, yelling at each other through the channel, trying to figure out who was where and who was still alive. We sat there, trying to figure out if there was a chance that the firefighters had gotten the workers out of there in time, that there was a good hour for them to have tried their damndest to get as many out as possible. Then it sunk in that many of our guys were lost.
As that realization started to sink in, the second tower collapsed. And the numbness I had felt just fifteen minutes before could not compare to what I was feeling now.
For me, personally, I was a strange mix of emotions, as most New Yorkers. For starters, I know that I had only been there for half a day, but I was feeling so close to all the firemen and there was that incredible sense of loss. Just a week before, I had been in the Twin Towers, rushing through the mall on the ground to the subway. I had told myself that I needed to come back and do some shopping.
After about five minutes of feeling the intense emotion of helplessness, loss and numbness, I ran to the phone and tried again to get my voicemail, to call my friend and my grandmother. I was able to get on for about two minutes before the phone went dead.
The next few hours play like some strange cryptic poem of something - the flames, the crackle of the walkie-talkies, people rushing in and out, hearing snippets of what was happening on the ground. Some strange dance that I never wanted to be a part of, but couldn't help watching. They brought in lunches for the building at 2. That's the only time that I really remember between when it first started and the time that I got home. Bush on the TV, the Pentagon. I wanted to scream, cry, get down on my knees and pray to God or whoever she is for some end to it all, or to sit in a corner and wish it all away, but I was there, listening to the men who fight fires and save lives crackle in and out of the radio, watching the news coverage and helpless inside a building that could be next. Truthfully, I didn't think I was in much danger, but it was daunting.
All I kept saying over and over again were the things they had said to us the day before. "These guys are the bravest of the brave, they run into the face of death when called. There is no other job in the world where you can find men who love their jobs and want to do their jobs. These are incredible men."
Immediately, another quote came to me, "The price of freedom is eternal vigilance." But who would ever think that someone would fly a plane into a building full of innocent workers? It was just the tip of the iceberg of questions for me.
Somewhere in the middle of that, I managed to get a hold of my friend. She just called - this morning, she was thrown out of bed by the impact of the first place. Running downstairs, she saw the second plane land in the tower, people jumping - it's too horrible to mention. She got out just before the second tower collapsed, her cellphone and wallet the only things she could grab as she left her apartment, and her cat behind. She is not injured, but obviously shaken up - anyone in the city and saw it happen is. My roommates had just gotten off the train when they saw it happen, two blocks north of the towers. They are all fine, too.
An EMT came into the office where we had assembled and said, "Funny that today is rescue services day? September 11th? 9/11?" It had never even crossed my mind.
As the day continued in this horrible fashion, Matt and I began to wonder how we would get home. They had closed off all entrances into Manhattan, I was thinking that I'd have to walk over the Brooklyn Bridge and more than 125 city blocks home when they told us of the backup plan (like I said, we were in the middle of the communications hub, though the phones were sometimes working). We figured out our plan of attack in terms of getting home, but doubt clouded our minds when we heard the EMT's discussing how the trains had stopped because building #7 was about to go and how they were stopping all service to State Island because that's where they had started bringing bodies.
Again, I'm not trying to scare anyone or make you more upset than needs to be - it's just that there are details that I will never forget for the rest of my life, images that burned into my memory and retinas forever. Everyone that I've talked to has asked what happened, so for all of you, I'm telling you once so that I don't have to repeat myself. It has been one of the most harrowing and scariest days of my life and I am grateful that most of you have tried to contact me and have thought of me. I owe you some bit of detail, some rendering of the day as I saw it unfold. And for the rest of you, just to let you know what it was like here.
It took two and a half hours for me to get back home. I managed to catch a train headed for Manhattan (the only one offering both way service) and caught a bus to 14th street, where I had to wait for another.
As I waited for the bus, I was about to go into kill mode. I was busy on my cellphone, desperately trying to get through to my family, locate people, check my messages - to no avail - but as I waited, some yuk came up to me and said, "Hey, can I borrow your cell phone to call my mommy?" He walked away, laughing. The people around me were as flabbergasted as I was. I wanted to throw something at him and yell, "Hey, asshole! I was at the FDNY Headquarters just now - do you know how many people they lost trying to get people home safely to their families? You're lucky as hell that you're still alive and you don't even notice it, you dick!" It made me angry as those eople who passed the cameras today and waved and smiled like goofs. Maybe that's how they deal with it, but it was completely inappropriate when there's destruction and suffering happening all around you.
But I'm home. And I'm safe. I presume. I'm more than bothered, I'm shook up, and I don't even know where to begin. As I read this again, I wonder how I even managed it - but it's just one of those things that I feel needs to be done. It hasn't exactly made me feel better, but it's helped me get through these past hours, so even if you have read this far, thank you.
As I sit here, I'm just remembering some details. It's strangely quiet and uneasy here. Sirens blend in with the sounds of buses rushing by. News just hit that an estimated 200 firefighters are lost. The cloud of dust still hangs over lower NY, covering it like a bad omen or reminder. The dust in the subway as soon as we crossed over into Manhattan was thick, I can't imagine what it was like on the street. You could smell the building from Metro Center in Brooklyn. It reminded me of what the SGA office smelled like after the fire last year. But much thicker. Every whiff of the air was like a weight. Just catching a waft of it made me feel darker each breath.
The questions remain. I just talked to my friend again, she saw her apartment building on the news, they cleaned the area and it's still standing. She's hoping to be able to salvage some clothes and prays that her cat is still alive.
Why? The same question we asked after Pearl Harbor, Oklahoma City, and Columbine. What now? I worry that we may retaliate in the wrong manner, I worry that we might not retaliate in the right way. Something needs to be done, but it's not easy to simply point the fingers without realizing that somewhere down the line, we are to blame, too. And no one ever wants to admit that. But it's true.
My roommate brings up a good point. The scarier though heavy on our minds is whether or not this is over. Could it continue in NYC? Or will it spread to every American city until they get their point across? As crazy as this may sound, I really enjoy my neighborhood up here in East Harlem. To many, East Harlem sounds like a bad place - people have a bad stereotype about the area. If you call a place where kids play out in the streets until 9:30 at night where families and friends sit on the sidewalk and talk and listen to salsa, where there are BMW's next to Mercedes, where the father and son stickball game is played in the middle of the street a bad area, then go righ tahead. For once in my time here (an entire month), I am content with the stereotype. But I can't be so sure.
Tomorrow, I obviously won't be going to work. Even if I wanted to, which I do, I don't think that my body or mind would be able to bear it. As I left work today, they had started compiling a list of those missing. I really can't stand the thought of being at the office tomorrow when the names pour in and the loss is further assessed.
I will, however, be waking up at 6am to go to the hospital to give blood. I don't know if you can, but if you have some time and you can, give blood. At this point, it's the only thing that we can do.
If you have gotten this far, thank you for even reading. I thought about each and every one of you today as this tragedy fell and I thank God that I have this many friends who care enough to just call or email. It really helped me through the day.
If there ever was a time for prayer, it would be now. So pray to God, whatever you see him or her as being, and say a prayer for the victims, for the cities, for the country, and for ourselves.
I miss and love all of you and I will see you soon.
Love,
Keeza
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