A collection of personal recollections from September 11th, 2001

Copyright (C) 2002 for text and pictures is reserved by the individual contributors. All rights reserved.

I will be posting new entries at the top of this page as they come in. Last updated Friday, September 13, 2002 08:53:45

From Barbara S.

I had an 8 am meeting in the office that morning. If not for that, I would have likely been at 6th Avenue and Spring Street catching a cab to the office around 8:45. I was grateful that I was in the New York office surrounded by the warm comfort of my colleagues. I found refuge in the Viant office and team in the days following the attack.

I was coming out of my meeting when I overheard Mercedes tell a few people that Michael said a plane hit the empire state building. I recall riding in the elevator with a bunch of people and we were not overly concerned…just wondering why did a small plane hit the Empire State building? To me, it was a last moment of innocence.I looked north to the Empire State Building and saw nothing but the stunning blue sky. Then, looking south there was a huge jagged tear and thick black smoke high up on the North tower. I immediately knew we were being attacked. I am an avid plane watcher and I know that they do not fly south this close to Manhattan. Suddenly we saw the 2nd explosion. Doug Whitten said he saw a plane go in. The rest of the day was a blur of disbelief, fear, sadness and shock.

Thankfully, everyone on the Lehman team was safe. I didn't really know any of them well, but I remember feeling so grateful that each and every one was not physically harmed. I remember crying in front of the TV with Janice, Carrie and others when that tower fell; thinking of the people we knew.

I spent the next two weekends wandering the city. I observed war and peace debates, candle vigils, dogs wearing the American flag, a lone bagpiper belting out the most mournful of tunes, rock and roll wannabies playing Dylan, Taylor, a sole cellist playing on West Broadway at 7am. I just ambled through the city feeling very alone but also embraced by the outpouring of community and love.

Immediately following the attack, I would spend my evenings on Canal and West Broadway watching the flatbed trucks hauling enormous beams of mangled steel down Canal Street and out to the Holland Tunnel. When I went out for my runs, I had to try to avoid the transfer zone where dump trucks full of debris would load their haul onto waiting barges. Sometimes you could recognize a water heater, a door frame, but mostly it was just violently twisted steel. I went to mid-town to have dinner with friends one evening and I was struck at how "normal" everyone seemed to be. There were shoppers on 5th Avenue, people laughing. It was weird. I couldn't wait to get back downtown.

The smell --- each night sitting in my southern facing Soho apartment only reminded me that there were thousands of dead people just a short distance from my home. It seemed obscene that I was sitting on my couch watching TV knowing the hell that was downtown Manhattan.

On 9/11 this year I did not go to my office in midtown. I was compelled to say home in my new place in Tribeca. I walked down to the World Financial Center and sat and took it all in for about an hour. The wind was amazing - there was paper swirling through the air, a huge dust cloud reaching for the sky, a tattered and torn American Flag on the Deutsche Bank building. As I struggled to walk against the wind, I couldn't help but think of the 2,801 people who lost their lives that day - were they sending a signal to their loved ones or were they expressing their rage at what happened to them? I won't soon forget the feel of that wind.

These days, I am so sorry that I did not look up more often and take in the sheer power of those towers. The Sunday before the attack, on my normal run from SoHo to the Statue of Liberty Ferry, I took a detour. Instead of backtracking along the bike path I turned in and found myself on the Trade Center Plaza. I remember thinking "I hate it here" I felt uncomfortable; I can't really say why, but my feeling was to get the hell out of there and back on my picturesque path by the water. In retrospect, I am sure that my ending up there was sheer coincidence, but what happened the following Tuesday, makes me feel grateful that I got to walk that ground one last time. I miss those towers and only wish I had appreciated them more when they were here.

From Aiko, written September 12th, 2001

Thank you everyone, for trying to get in touch with me in any way that you could... as you know, the phone lines were impossible to get through and i've lost both of my computers to the rubble. It's only until now, that I've gotten access to a computer where I can respond to all of you who have tried to reach me.

Please let me first assure everyone that I am alive, well and recovering emotionally from yesterday's events.

Not all of you know that I was actually on the 38th floor of World Trade Center 1, when the first plane crashed into the building. To me, and everyone else on the floor, it felt like a huge earthquake, or a bomb detonating on the top floors. The immensity of the sound and impact on my floor caused the entire building to sway from side to side, a terrifying moment. I thought the ceiling was going to collapse on my head. In the moment, however, no one on the floor quite knew how to react -- most of us stood paralized, looking astonishingly at the debris that fell from above. I am thankful for the man who screamed "FIRE!" to all of us on the floor -- the only vehicle that finally got all of us dumbfounded people moving. At this point, we all scrambled to the stairwell in fear of the building falling from above. My guess is that we were one of the first floors to reach the stairwell, for it took only minutes to get from 38 to the 30th floor. It's about at this point where the congestion of the crowds began .. and as a result, uninhibited panic and fear. Women screamed, everyone pushed and shoved, trying to get ahead of anything and anyone. There was screaming, there was vomiting, there were people hyperventilating .. just about everything you can imagine in a pile of people scrambling to save their own lives. All kinds of thoughts ran through my head as I made the slow and painful decent from 30th -- while emotionally wrecked and mentally fatigued, I tried to keep my calm in the midst of screaming people..I could not bear to let myself lose focus. My thoughts revolved around contingency - what other method could I think of to get myself out of the building. It was clear that the stairwell was becoming a nightmare - at each lower level, more and more clouds of dust would filter in, clouding the air for all of us to breathe. I held a cosmetic bag (the only item in my possession made of cloth) against my nose and mouth to keep from inhaling the dust. By this time, I had reached single digits - at floor 10, I felt a huge relief, thinking, at worse case, I could jump out a window and perhaps break some bones, but at least survive. The rest of the decent from 10th floor to the exit, were relatively quickly. except for a few moments when the firemen arrived and started to climb up. All of us hysterical people had to squeeze into single-file to allow the firemmen up. This, I thought, was a horrible plan on behalf of the building - why hadn't they built other paths for rescue teams? why were these escape mechanisms the same for civilians? in any event, the 3rd, 2nd and finally exit levels were flooded (only ankle deep though) from the sprinkler system that had taken effect. I made it a point not to look at the faces of the firement climbing up, for I knew they were to never return. Still holding in a burst of emotion and tears, I reached the doorway, ran across an atrium, shielding my head from the shower of glass and debris falling from the sky , and reached the safety of a covered bridge that would lead me to the Hudson River. Once inside, I removed my shoes (for those of you who know me well, you can imagine the ridiculous 'summery' sandles I was wearing at the time!) and bolted for the outside.

All of this probably occurred in a 10 minute time frame. Although not certain, I am quite sure I was able to escape the building before the 2nd tower was hit. When I reached the outside, my tears and emotions came pouring out. With no cellular service, I had no way to reach anyone I knew - and decided I needed to simply get as far away from the area as possible. I began making my way north - 30 or so minutes later, George (my boyfriend) happened to find me, at which point I really lost it. We continued to head north, turning back only a few times to observe the towers rage on .. people all around screamed and balled at the sights of bodies jumping out of the windows. I could not bare this and resisted looking for too long. We did, however, watch Tower 2 fall to the ground. A horrifying sight that paralyzed us for most of the day.

The images of my flee from the building is likely to remain for years .. just in the visuals on television and the stories documented in the paper, makes me relive the moments. I am thankful, and feel a great amoung of luck for having left the building when I did. I can't help but think of all the other horrifying ways this could have ended for me.

I want to thank each and every one of you for caring and sending your thoughts.

I will be in touch.

From Tero:

Luckiest Man in the World

I was working in the Lehman Brothers project at the time.

I usually went to work somewhat late, well past 8:45am, but that morning I was supposed to meet with one of the Lehman Brothers developers early to prepare for a source code merge that would take a day or two later that week.

I had an old schoolmate (from elementary school) from Finland visiting me with his wife and we were running late, because New York sized studios aren't made to have three people sleep in them and all do their morning things at the same time and because we woke up late because we were up late previous evening.

We had planned to take the subway to WTC and have my friends go do their tourist things at NYSE, WTC and Statue of Liberty and wherever else they wanted to go to in Lower Manhattan while I would go to work after sending them off with proper directions.

I'm trying to hurry my friends up, because I'm running late and I'm thinking the developer from Lehman Brothers is already there and waiting for me.

We leave my home before 8:45am and catch the downtown 6 train.

The stop before Fulton Street stop an elderly woman walks in the car we're in and is loudly professing the end of the world and all kinds of other things about how evil people are. Me and my friends are chuckling, thinking she just another typical New York kook. She goes on and on. A child is apparently getting worried, because a younger woman says: "Don't believe anything she says, she's just crazy".

The train approaches the Fulton Street stop and me and my friends are preparing to get off the train, but the train doesn't stop at Fulton Street without any information why. I'm now getting increasingly annoyed, because I'm getting very late now and I am muttering under my breath about poor MTA service and how the subway system in New York sucks.

The train stops at the Wall Street stop and we quickly get off. I'm trying to hurry up to not be any more late than I already am.

We get out of the subway tunnel and we're smelling the smoke and see the debris on the streets, but we have no idea what's going on. I look up and I see a huge cloud of smoke high on top of me. It's immediately apparent that a WTC building is on fire, because the smoke cloud is so high up.

We walk around the corner, see the carnage and we stop on our tracks. The sight from down there that close to the towers is unbelievable. The sheer size of the event totally blocks any thoughts about people dying in there for a while. We're just staring at the towers with our mouths open...and so is everybody else. There are hundreds of people just in that one street corner gawking up. There's no shouting, crying, running or much speaking. Everybody's just staring.

We still don't know what's happened. I thought one of the buildings had an explosion or some other sort of fire and it spread to the other building.

After a few minutes it dawns on me that people close to me probably think I'm inside. I try making cell phone calls, but the network is overloaded and I can't get through. I have to get to a phone.

My friends are wondering what to do and I'm thinking it's their vacation and they should go on and do what they planned to do for the day...well, with the exception of visiting WTC. I tell them which way to go for the Statue of Liberty ferries and off they go. Bad mistake, as I learn later.

I start walking away to back to the Viant office to make the phonecalls. Every payphone on the way has 20 people on line. There's a huge gathering of people near the City Hall. Around here I'm beginning to realise everything is not allright, that there are a lot of people dead and that my girlfriend and parents must be worried sick.

I catch the uptown 6 train in front of the City Hall and take off at Union Square and hurry back to our office. I try dialing friends' phone numbers all the way from Union Square to our office, but the cellphone is not getting through. All the way from Union Square to Viant office there are people standing on street corners looking south. The view is disturbing.

Finally I get to the Viant office and I get conformation that planes hit the towers and that it was a terrorist attack. I'm now starting to realize it wasn't such a good idea to leave my friend at Lower Manhattan, but since they have no cellphone there's no way to contact them and to tell them to leave and go back to my apt.

I start making phonecalls. Anybody on a cellphone, I can't get through. This includes my girlfriend. I leave a message to her answering machine at her home, call her parents who still haven't heard the news (there is no radio or TV in their small store) and they have no idea what to think of my "Tell Ailin I'm ok". I call a few other friends.

And then I call my parents. My dad's just gotten back home from work and heard the news on a bus ride home and he's been worried sick ever since he heard the news. He tells me my phonecall is the best phonecall he's ever received. I ask him to tell all my relatives that everything is okay and we hang up.

The Emails start getting in now.

Someone from the New York office said after a few days that they never knew they had so many friends that cared. I got Email from all over the world. I start writing responses and copy anyone else I can think of. Some ex-Vianteers in San Francisco are worried about other Vianteers and I'm glad to reply them that we don't think anything happened to anyone, though we haven't heard from a few people yet. Answering to all the Emails takes about two hours and I'm kind of happy I have something to do. I'm not feeling like watching TV.

All of a sudden I get an IM from my gf! She's made it to my apt and is using my computer. It's a relief to know she knows I'm ok. She hasn't been able to check her messages or call her parents and hasn't heard from me at all for a few hours, so she must've been feeling awful.

She's also telling me my friends are in my apt. They are shaken, covered in dust and exhausted. She puts my friend on and he tells me they got stuck in Battery Park when the first building collapsed and got totally engulfed by the dust clouds. They had walked all the way to my apt from Battery Park and are not feeling very hot. I think they stopped liking New York at some time that morning. They give me their parents phone numbers in Finland and I'll start calling. I reach my friend's wife's mom and tell her both of them are ok and ask her, if she could phone my friend's parents, since I can't reach them.

I hang around in the office until the Emails stop coming in and I hear that everyone at Viant is okay.

Later that day I began thinking that if everything went normal that morning, I would've been inside the building or just getting in at the time of the first hit. I could've been in the elevators or the lobby when the fireball came down the shaft or I could've been hit by debris (or worse still, people) falling down from the towers. The thought of that still gives me jitters.

Thanks for my friend's "slow" morning activities and oversleeping 9/11/2001 I didn't have to experience, first hand, the worst of what happened that day. I consider myself very lucky.

From Paul K.

I heard the news from an unlikely place... Greece. George, my friend and colleague in the Boston office recieved a call from a friend or relative in Greece with the news that a plane had flown into the one of the twin towers. My initial reaction was frustration with the stupidity of a local pilot who lost control of a small one passanger plane. I remember thinking to myself, "I hope this guy's ok." I emailed my friend Andy, who worked in one of the towers, telling him of the news, but I was sure he'd see the sight on his way to work, since he usually didn't arrive till around 9 o clock anyway. When I logged onto CNN, and saw the picture of the explosion, I realized this was no small jet, that a major accident had occurred, yet the possibility of lost lives hadn't hit me. I was struck by the harsh and disturbing reality of the situation when we received word that another plane had struck the towers. My city was under attack. With all the news sites down, and phone lines busy, I was hundreds of miles away from my friends and family, as they probably were witnessing this calamity first-hand.

My sister who was living downtown at the time sent me an instant message with the news that one of the towers had fallen. The nightmare became even more unbelievable. I was receiving dozens of instant messages from friends and family, describing the scene from their windows. The rest of that morning is fuzzy in my memory. None of us were sure what was happening. We could just be together in our office in Boston, around the TV, just looking at each other, so thankful to see each other alive and well in front of our eyes. Yet, we wondered about all those we couldn't be so close to at the time. All my colleagues who were at Lehman... what happened to them?? The possibilities haunted me. Tyrone and Kristen were the two New Yorkers that were with me in Boston. Being that my only communication with my family and friends was via AIM, I was so thankful Janet allowed me to stay in the office as long as I needed to. It may have been a small gesture on her part, but it was everything to me at the time.

That night Tyrone, Kristen, and I mourned together. We became such a support for each other, hundreds of miles from where we needed to be. I am forever thankful for those two who were around at just the right time. My colleagues at the Boston office were so incredibly supportive of us, knowing what our situation was. We spend the next few weeks in discussions, encouraging talks, consolement, and sharing in the drive to move forward past these tragic events.

I made it back to NYC on Sept 13th, when I saw the aftermath first-hand. By this time, I realized that Andy was never going to respond to the email I had written him on the morning of the 11th. He was working on the 90th floor of tower one. Andy was the lead singer of a band I was in at the time, and we were getting ready for a performance in front of 5,000 people that October. Here is an excerpt of a journal entry I wrote the week after:

9-17-2001

"Friday afternoon - it hit me - - the twin towers are gone, Andy is gone, Andy is one of 5,000 people who are missing, thousands more are gonna die in the coming weeks. It just hit me and I was at work ... I've been frozen since.

I came back to NYC, a place that was my home for a period of 5 years, ... and I sat at the cafe on the corner of waverly and university where i'd usually have a 4am conversation with a good friend about life, music, fun - and I looked out the window and all you saw was smoke, people walking up and down the street with face masks, sirens, lights, it was all death in the air... i went to the fountain where i would sit, read sigmund freud, marx, nietzcshe (however the hell you spell it) and looked up, and the towers were gone.... it was like a bad movie... even better - a made for tv movie... everything i'm gonna tell you actually happened.

and I walked up to union sq park, where a mob of people were standing, talking, yelling, conversating about unity, one country, one love, and humanity. Among them were speakers, philosphers, proclaiming their truths, opinions, and apparently empty ideals about new yorkers coming together finally in one heart, while at the same time, these same people booed a young man who urged them not to be blood-thirsty for afghani blood. I got up in front of these 200 people and gave them a piece of my mind. It ended up in applause, cheers, and hugs from random strangers (and they didn't even try to take my wallet)... again... surreal

I went to visit Mike: him and I ended up at Central Operations of the rescue effort as volunteers, and we worked until about 4AM in the pouring rain, as trucks, army vehicles, helicoptors, lightning, people, and dogfood swam around us. We were in a bucket brigade hurling boxes into fed ex trucks, helping officers, running up and down the west side highway with clean socks, pillows, blankets for the cold, I was somehow transported to a war zone. Then the food came, and it tasted so good: rice pilaf and grilled veggies... again.. surreal....

I somehow made it back to my sister's place, with enough time to sleep 2 hours before work. I barely made it through the day without falling asleep at my desk.

I was getting emails from my friends about indian people who were getting beat up, hospitalized, for being 'the enemy'. Warnings from friends not to speak my language in public. The weekend came and I met up with the band. It was very awkward at first, we all missed Andy so much - we couldn't believe just 7 days before, we were all joking around, playing, laughing together, and here we were in silence. Once we started playing, we felt God's presence, and the unity of this situation brought us together. Brought us close... they understood."

So those are some of my thoughts and memories. Andy would have been proud of us... on October 13th, 2001 - we played.

From Mark P.

I started the day off early as we had the first of a 3 day FS Practice summit meeting in our offices... after my early morning routine of kissing my sleeping children and my barely awake wife, I drove to the train station to catch the 6:25am because Xave wanted to get an 8am start... it starting out being a routine day, one like so many others... getting into NYC at Penn Station, seeing that it was so nice out, I decided to walk down to our offices... stopping for a Starbucks, getting the largest size possible knowing it was going to be a long day trying to work through our FS marketplace issues - as well as dealing with all of the characters in our practice... ;)

about 45 minutes into the meeting, my wife Debbie called on my cell phone frantically asking me where I was... knowing that I spent a fair amount of time down at Lehman, she was afraid I was down there today... she heard that a commuter plane had crashed into the WTC... at the same time, Scott G. was coming into the meeting and said that the hole he saw in the tower was certainly not caused by a commuter plane... I assured her that I was ok and promised that I'd keep in touch during the day... we continued on with the meeting while Leslie was out making sure the Lehman team was ok... I don't recall how much time had passed when someone came in to tell us that a plane hit the second tower... at this point, the meeting stopped and we went to watch the t.v. that had been set up in the corner of the office...

frozen in shock... staring unbelievably at an event that was unfolding before our eyes that was merely 20 blocks away, but could have been on the other side of the world (as is usually the case)... people coming down from the roof giving us their impression of what they could see... trying to get a dial-tone to make an outside call and finally getting through to Debbie and my folks to tell them I was ok... Leslie was leading the charge in trying to contact our Lehman team... we were filling a white-board up with the names of our team members and those of key Lehman people to track the status of our contact with them, and feeling helpless in the process... I was communicating with Bob K.n, our key Lehman sponsor, over email at various points throughout the day as he was walking up the West Side highway... having a Blackberry took on new meaning that day! I remember getting calls or instant messages from Viant folks from around the country when they could get through to find out if we were ok...

watching the first tower come down was unbelievable... the whole thing so surreal seeing it on t.v., but knowing it was so close to the office... everyone let out a collective gasp as the first tower collapsed, in a moment of denial, rubbing our eyes to see if it really happened... a few people screamed, and a number of us shed tears... I recall looking at Rob Gromer, both of us in shock, and then hugging Barb Spitzer... we just stood there stunned, trying to rationalize what we just saw... a few of us got into a conversation about how the building looked like it had just imploded - thinking that it must have been pre-wired with explosives to do that rather than topple over on its side... then, the second building fell, being replaced by all of that smoke... a nother cry of agony filled the office while the announcers were telling us about the other highjacked airlines... I don't recall when we heard about the plane hitting the Pentagon or the one that crashed in Pennsylvania, but waiting to see if any other terrorist actions were lurking around the corner was unnerving...

I remember feeling a sense of relief after locating various team members or seeing them show up at our office... one by one, we checked off each name after we were assured of their safety... seeing Ed Guttman and Jason Pedone walk in made it real - ok, people were safe... one by one, the list was getting shorter until Aiko was the only one left... a nd it was a couple of more hours until someone made contact with her... it was early afternoon at this point, and we weren't sure if the terrorists were all done or just taking a break... I spoke to Debbie again and she suggested that I stay in the City with her brother, but I wanted to get home to be with my family... with everyone accounted for, we felt comfortable in thinking about leaving... I found myself talking with Steve S., Bob D., and Leif about trying to get across the river to New Jersey... we all wanted to get home to our families and decided to venture out in search of ferries because the trains out of NYC weren't running...

about 3:30pm we said our goodbyes and went downstairs... we got onto 6th Avenue and there was no activity... no traffic, hardly any people... we looked downtown in the direction of where the towers once stood... all we could see was smoke... we collectively shook our heads and walked over to the West Side Highway... looking back downtown again, the smoke cloud was huge and covered much of what was the downtown skyline... the occasional rescue vehicle went screaming by us... as we walked farther up the highway, the street was filled for blocks with ambulances waiting to be called into service... little did they know what was in store for them... we then walked up to the Chelsea Piers and found out that the Circle Line was pulled into service as the main set of ferries taking people across to New Jersey... Chelsea Piers was in the process of being set up as a rescue station and we saw people gathering for meetings and assignments... we snaked our way around the huge gathering and waited in line for about 90 minutes for our turn to escape NYC... we were all torn in wanting to stay and help, but being home with our families was a priority at the moment...

we finally boarded a ferry and about half-way across the river WTC 7 fell, creating a new plume of smoke engulfing downtown... we were all speculating on how many other buildings in that same area could also conceivably come down... I finally got through to Deb on my cell phone and told her that I was making my way home and moving in the direction towards Newark to grab a train south... we got off the ferry in Weehawken and immediately got separated... there were buses taking people to various parts of New Jersey, so I decided to walk a few miles down to the Hoboken PATH station and catch a shuttle to Newark... as I walked along the river front, the Manhattan skyline was in full view... downtown still engulfed in smoke from WTC 7 falling and other fires burning... I finally got to the Hoboken station and a decontamination tent had been set up outside of the station for those people coming from NYC who had been caught in all of the debris... firemen were there with high-powered hoses giving people virtual showers to get off as much of the debris as possible... we still didn't know if there were any biological attacks and the emergency folks wanted to make sure everyone who got caught in the fallout were hosed off... I saw men and women in business suits dripping from head to toe after going through the decontamination tent...

I finally made my way down to the PATH station and took the shuttle to Newark not knowing if the trains were running or when the next one would be... as long as I was going south, it really didn't matter... I got to Newark around 7pm and waited nearly an hour with hundreds of other people looking for ways to get back home... my train finally showed up and I boarded it with a sense of relief that I was at least on the last leg of my journey home... as I sat down, a neighbor of mine who works in mid-town came over and said he'd g otten on the train at Penn Station in NYC... little did I know that the last 5 hours was wasted trying to get on a train that was working by the time I got there! leaving Newark and watching the NYC skyline at night had always been an impressive sight... tonight's view was a bit different with the smoke illuminating downtown... a thousand thoughts running through my head of what else might happen... I knew that one of my friends worked down there periodically as a consultant, and I hadn't been able to get a hold of him...

coming into the Trenton train station, a sense of relief coming over me... as I walked past the newspaper stand, I noticed a bunch of postcards depicting the NYC skyline... I bought a few with the WTC buildings all lit up at night, as well as some flowers for Debbie... I got home about 9:30pm and as I opened the garage door, my 2 kids and the dog came rushing out to greet me... I knelt down and gave them all a big hug, walked inside and gave Deb a big hug... I sat down with the kids for a bit on the c ouch since they needed to be in bed and didn't want to let go of me... my 5 year old, Jonathan, looked up and said that he was very glad that I wasn't in those buildings today since he knew I often worked there... I leaned over, shed a few tears, and gave him a big hug... we eventually got the kids up to bed... as I was tucking in my 9 year old, Michael, he threw his arms around me and started crying... after a while I asked him what he was thinking... he said that he was so sad for all of the kids who would never be able to hug their fathers again like he was doing... it's amazing how crisply kids can cut through everything and focus on what's important and most meaningful...

I took the next day off of work and walked my kids to school... all of the parents were bringing their kids to school and making sure everything was ok... a few of the teachers knew I worked in NYC and wanted to see how I was doing... after dropping Jonathan off in class and talking with his teacher for a bit, I walked over to say goodbye to him... as I walked over, I could hear him telling his little friends that his dad was "there" yesterday, that I was ok, and then pointing up at me to show everyone.. he gave me a big hug and sent me on my way... I turned around with tears in my eyes and saw that the teacher had witnessed this, also with tears in her eyes... I found Debbie who had come from Michael's classroom, and we walked home together shedding some more tears along the way... what I was to find out that day is not something I was prepared for...

once we got home from school, I called my friend who sometimes worked in the WTC... I got his wife on the phone and she told me he was fine, not in NYC that day, and he'd call me a little later... a big sense of relief came over me knowing that he was the only one of my friends who worked there - or so I thought... he called a short time later in a panic... one of our best friends from college was in the towers... this came as a total shock as his business never had him there before... I had to have him tell me the story three times before I realized that he was talking about our friend's brother (with whom as I was also a friend for 20 years)... I didn't know he had taken a job one month earlier with Cantor Fitzgerald... now, I do have to admit that some sense of relief came over me when I realized it wasn't my best friend who had died, but soon was replaced by another type of grief for his brother... this is a family with whom I became very close starting in college and was considered one of the "extended brothers" for a long time... after trying throughout the day to get a hold of my friend, I finally did... he had been in Kentucky on business and drove back to his parents' home in Massachusetts as soon as he found out... he was totally distraught and there was nothing that I could do to help him...

I wound up coming in to work on Thursday as we had offered our Lehman partners the opportunity to set up camp in our offices... they took us up on the offer and there was a lot of work to do... I took the train into Penn Station and walked down to our offices, still hearing about potential biological attacks in the subway system... the office was buzzing with activity in re-arranging desks and operations in preparation for the Lehman team... it was good to have this activity and focus away from the tragedy... we mapped out plans for the Lehman team and felt energized in helping a client get back to business as soon as possible...

during this time, my friend called and said they were having a memorial service for all of the Cantor Fitzgerald people at a hotel in midtown later that day... with a heavy heart, I went to the hotel and found the Cantor Fitzgerald room... as I walked in, the enormity of the tragedy hit me immediately... pictures and posters of the 600+ "missing" CF staff were up on the walls around the entire ballroom, with friends and family huddled around tables near pictures of their loved ones... I looked out over the sea of sad people and spotted my friend, Larry, in the back of the ballroom... I worked my way slowly through the crowd and we embraced each other in a long, painful and tearful hug... I then went to see my "missing" friend's wife and repeated the process... we talked for a bit and Larry brought me over to the flyer that was created for his brother... it was a picture of his brother beaming proudly as he was holding his two boys ages 3 and 6 months respectively, with the caption "daddy we miss you, please come home"... again, I lost it and broke down... looking around the room at similar posters and flyers, staring into the red-rimmed and teary eyes of family and friends going through the same exact experience was absolutely huge... it was all so senseless... eventually, a non-denominational service was held with clergy from many faiths leading different prayers... it was amazing to see how many people still believed in the power of prayer after the devastation two days prior...

we wound up having two memorial services for my friend's brother, Stu... one in Long Island and the other in his family's hometown of Newton, MA... both were very difficult and moving at the same time... the family and friends who got up to speak on Stu's behalf were amazing... each recounted personal experiences with Stu that all of us who knew him well could understand and feel a part of... Stu was such a rabid baseball fan that we sang "take me out to the ballgame" at the end of one service... I've never heard it sung before in between sobs... it was quite the appropriate send-off...

well, it's a year later and we've all gotten on with our lives... but, it will never be the same... hopefully, we will get through this ugly time and be better for it on the other side... for the sake of our kids, let's hope so!

From an anonymous Vianteer:

Tragedy can be chaotic and unpredictable, human response however, often follows a pre-defined pattern.

I remember being in a grocery store trying to buy a loaf of bread on the day the Loma Prieta earthquake hit San Francisco. As lights flickered and went out, bottles and cans crashed down around me, I stood there stunned, unable to fully grasp the reality of what was happening. After the shaking subsided, an eerie calm settled over the store. As we made our way through the semi-darkness and out into a street, a hush had fallen over the neighborhood that reinforced the dreamlike quality of the moment. Once on the street I couldn't think of what to do next, so I walked around unsuccessfully trying to buy bread.

Almost 12 years later, I stood on 6th avenue watching the devastation of the World Trade Center buildings. At first, that same sense of unreality took hold. But as the drama unfolded and the implications of the human cost began to sink in, older memories began to seep out of their hiding places in the recesses of my mind. Memories of wars lived through, of death and survival. Memories of the gnawing fear that leaves that slight bitterness on your tongue and the sense of vulnerability that follows you wherever you go. Mind numbing scenes of death and destruction when there was no time to cry only to react and move on. And here it was all over again, just when I thought it was safe to go home.

I felt the flood of unshed tears pounding at my defenses. Not wanting to revisit that past, I went back to my desk and spent the next couple of days in a conference room trying to distract myself with work. Having practiced the art of self-deception, I was able to dodge one more emotional bullet.

The following Sunday morning I woke up early and after a restless night of bad dreams, I decided it was time to face this new reality. I loaded my camera and walked around taking pictures of firehouses and countless other impromptu public shrines. The public display of mourning, so crude and yet so poetic, reminded me of the vitality that attracted me to this city. They also provided the needed emotional catalyst. And finally, on a bench in Washington Square Park I sat down and let the tears come. All that sadness, all that pain, all that grief delayed, just pouring out of me.

Afterwards, having regained my composure, I started walking aimlessly around. Not knowing quite what to do, I did what I always seem to do in these situations, I went looking for a bakery where I could buy a loaf of bread. This being New York, it wasn't hard to find.

Hey Jennifer

Really nice to hear from you. Of the handful of people that I know on the West Coast, you are actually the ONLY one who has thought enough to ask how I'm doing over here . . . so I really do appreciate your email. I delayed my response to you only so that I could respond more fully to your simple question . . . u nfortunately, I don't think there's a simple answer.

One of my many reactions to this event has been centered on the observation of how profound the effect of distance has been on people's perception of things. From Ground Zero (where people are living it) to Lower Manhattan (where you can see and smell it) to the Upper Westside (where you're able to escape the immediacy), to other cities to other states (where you watch on TV) to other countries (where you might actually know what it feels like). . . and while I see the reports on the news of how this event has effected us all, and how everyone in the country, and the world, for that matter, have been changed in some way, I have not seen that compassion in my out-of-town American friends and colleagues. I don't think that they fully understand what it's been like here through these past two weeks or three weeks -- my impression is that for these people, this might as well have happened in Europe or Israel. On the day after the disaster I received an email from a colleague in Atlanta, who wanted my input on a presentation . . . . huh? The CP for the project I'm on now (also from Atlanta) also sent out an email stating that we should be ready to "work hard" on Monday (the first Monday after the event). And then there were friends of mine who didn't even call . . . for all they know, I could be dead. To say that the nature of our relationship will change is an understatement. I am only stressing this, Jennifer, to let you know that I really do appreciate hearing you ask the simple question "how are you?".

While I was amazingly spared any direct loss of family, friends, or property, for which I am truly grateful, this was definitely more than a media event. I was, thankfully, nowhere near the site when it happened, though, like most others, I had friends who were down there, and friends who lost family . . . oddly enough, I *could* have been down there . . . I'd been tagged for a segment of the Lehman project, situated on the 40th floor of Tower 1 . . . instead, I "held out" for a different project.

I watched Tower 1 crumble from my corner, 16th and 6th, a mere 1 1/2 mile, thirty minute walk away (just two blocks from the NY office). The Towers were a part of my daily view, a reminder that I lived in one of the most amazing places on the planet. Watching it collapse could only be likened to watching someone die . . . nothing but a feeling of utter helplessness . . . and then, it was gone. Just gone. Just shock. And then the realization that there were still probably a lot of people inside and around the building . . . and to share that shock and horror with strangers on the street . . . it's beyond words.

That day, and the next several days, were truly bizarre. That afternoon, as people made their way home, the streets were crowded with pedestrians, as the subways had been shut down, and the streets closed off below 14th street. Streets filled with people . . . but no sound. No talking, just walking . . . everyone in shock, looking downtown at the plume of smoke wafting towards brooklyn, where the towers used to be . . . and lots of sirens. The next day, the city was empty, like something out of a movie . . . Andromeda Strain. We made our way uptown to give blood, but were turned away because there were so many people . . . all feeling helpless. We walked back downtown, through Times Square . . . no traffic, hardly any people. And of course, the media bombardment was constant, intense, and relentless, as the news got worse. Union Square had become a memorial site . . . thousands of candles, flowers, pictures of the missing. Hundreds of people, praying, silent, and sobbing. In truth, it was this palpable sadness permeating the city that struck me the hardest . . . I had never experienced such mass grieving . . . everywhere.

And even on Thursday, when many of us actually tried to get back to work, we were disrupted . . . my wife, who works in the Garment District, called me just after lunch . . . her building, as well as the majority of the major buildings in that area (Empire State, Macy's, Penn Station, Madison Sq. Garden, and Grand Central Station to name a few) were being evacuated due to bomb threats. The workday basically ended, and we realized that things were not going to be normal for a while. Wartime.

And it wasn't like you could hit the remote and turn it off. It was, and continues to be, in your face. Turn a corner, and there's a wall filled with pictures of the missing posted by desperate family members . . . I can't begin to imagine the horror of what they're going through . . . and, as the fire continued to burn, days later, the wind shifted direction . . . sending the smoke and stench uptown, actually into our building. . .and I realized that I was probably smelling more than just burning debris. And again, I can't fathom what the rescuers must be going through on a daily basis. Even today, nearly three weeks later, you can catch a pretty good wiff when the wind shifts.

That first weekend, we actually went over to the West Side Highway, as many people had, to cheer on the rescuers and firefighters as they were changing shifts . . . we had to do *something*, and the Red Cross was already overloaded with volunteers . . . getting closer to Ground Zero, there were three or four blocks where the street was lined with refrigerated tractor-trailors . . . waiting. Unbelievable.

The other odd thing was that this happened just before the High Holy Days. So for me, and many other Jews, I'd suspect, there was a growing fear that something else was going to happen. Not to mention the mood and subject of the Holidays . . . the opening and closing of the Book of Life . . . "who will live, and who will die . . who by fire, who by water, who by stone . . . ". All a little too much. This was the first year that I've had to go through a metal detector to get into synagogue, the first year that there had been strong police presence stationed outside. While a relief, it just added to the surreality. And now, as I walk around -- to the subway, to the store -- I find that I can't get the haunting melody of the Avinu Malchenu out of my head. It has almost become a soundtrack . . .

So now we're all back to work, getting on with it. The city is "back to normal", but there is nothing normal about it . . . And while my own experience of this event does not compare in the slightest to those of the families and rescuers who have lost loved ones, the people that actually got out of the buildings, and the residents who have lost there houses and apartments . . . I can't say I've come away "clean" either. That day, when I left my apartment, I stepped outside and looked up . . . it was a gorgeous blue sky, crisp exhilerating air. "What a fantastic day!", I thought. I can't trust a clear blue sky anymore.

In the end I know we'll get through this, it's just going to take a while. Apologies if this was more than you bargained for . . . thanks for listening. On the flip side, and as much as I appreciate your concern, I have to say that I feel really bad that I never asked you how *you* were doing after the layoffs. How cold of me! I am truly sorry. How are things working out? Have you found another gig? A happy, cool one, I hope? Please let me know . . .

Again, great hearing from you Jen . . . say "hi" to any ex-viant folks you may encounter.

Take care Jen, be well.

three more memories of the eleventh . . . (from Richard R.)

1. i must have been in the shower when the planes actually hit. my wife had already left for work, and i didn't have the tv on, so i was really oblivious to what was going on. when i stepped outside our building, i remember looking up at the sky, because it was so brilliant and blue that morning. "What a great day!" I thought as I stepped out the door. as i got close to our corner, 16th street and 6th avenue, i could see that everyone was facing downtown, not moving. my first thought was that there was some kind of procession or parade coming up 6th, or that a movie was being shot. even from the sidewalk, i couldn't really see what was going on. it wasn't until i stepped out into the street that i could see it. both towers ablaze, a huge gash in the north tower. still, i had no idea why or how this all started. and really, all i thought was "man, that's a huge fire". my overriding assumption was that everyone had been led to safety, and while the fire was certainly devastating, and the towers would look "injured" for a while, everything would be ok. i pulled out my camera, which i always carry with me, and took a couple of pictures - whatever had happened, it was pretty major. then i remembered that we had a team of people in the one of the towers . . . i turned around and hoofed it to the office to see what was going on. it didn't take long to find out.

i still have unsettled feelings about my reactions to those initial moments. i didn't ask anyone on the street what had happened. i didn't infer that people were hurt, dying, throwing themselves from windows. i never considered the possibility that the towers would fall within the hour. i took a picture, turned around and walked. why?

2. the office was in a state of upset, understandably, as the chief concern was to confirm the whereabouts of the various members of the lehman team. the first tower had already fallen, and i was trying to phone my wife to see how much she knew, how she was doing . . . but i couldn't get a line out. after several minutes of trying i decided to try calling from home, as i only live two blocks from the office. when i hit the corner of 17th and 6th, i ran into a colleague (Sunghee S., actually), who was making her way to the office from the subway. she was noticeably stunned, and really didn't know what was going on, as she'd been underground for a while. i told her that the south tower had collapsed, and she didn't really get it. i had to physically turn her around to face downtown, and show her the single remaining tower. it sunk in. she was on the lehman bros. team, and would have most likely been in the tower at the time of impact, had she not gone to an early morning doctor's appointment. she said that when she got there, the receptionist asked her why she was there -- her appointment was until the following day!

"what should i do?" she asked. "should i go home? go to the office?" "go upstairs, be with people," i said. "you're here already, go upstairs". i told her i was going home to make phone calls. we hugged and went our separate ways. i reached my corner, 16th and 6th, just as the second tower began to crumble. everybody gasped and/or screamed. i saw someone thrust their arms out, reflexively, as if to hold up the building, or to catch it . . . and then just a stunned silence. we were looking at each other, all of us strangers, in disbelief. there was nothing left. nothing but the column of dust that momentarily held the shape of the tower, the last time we'd see anything resembling it in that space again.

and the sky was still so damn blue.

3. i also remember the friday evening after the attacks. a colleague was having an exhibit of his photography at his studio, and while it had been an anticipated event for some time, it was even moreso in light of the horrific week. and while the walk over to the far west side was a little surreal (eerily empty streets, with the sound of F-16's soaring overhead), once we were there, the sense of relief was almost immediate. i think for everybody, it was the first time any of us had smiled, or let ourselves smile, since the event. and while it felt strange at first, it also felt good. good to be with friends, share our experiences of the week. good to talk, to drink, to eat, to laugh. good to be living.

From Andrew F.:

From XYZ:

9/11/01

My day began early - I was up at 6:00 and at the front door of 625 6th Ave. between 6:30 and 6:45 am. It was to be the 1st day of the FS Practice 3 day meeting and I wanted to be certain we were ready to hit the ground running. I remember pausing outside the building for an extra moment or 2 thinking about what a beautiful day it was and wishing I could figure out a way to spend the day enjoying NY. Enough wishful thinking - time to get to work.

At any rate, up to the office, scrambling to get everything set, and the meeting was underway at 8:00 with remarks from Bob D. I'm 2nd on the agenda and we're having a good opening discussion when Scott Gordon told us that a plane hit the WTC. I assumed it was a truly unfortunate mishap, a private single engine commuter who'd had a heart attack or some such thing. But you never know, so I asked Leslie to check on the Lehman team to be sure everyone was okay. (Knowing Leslie, I'm sure she was already out of her seat when I asked).

Anyway, on with the meeting - and then someone (I don't recall who) whispered to me quietly that a 2nd plane had hit WTC. We wrapped that session within 5 minutes and went out of the conference room to see what was going on.

At that point it was clear that the events hadn't been accidents. Rumors were flying around the office about numerous other hijackings (I recall hearing as many as 8). I also heard a jumble of stories about who had spoken with whom and when - most of it seemingly conflicting. I also remember a sense of grief/nervousness/anxiety couple with shock and outrage throughout the office. Regardless of where you stood, you could see someone in tears.

At that point it was clear that the meeting was over for the day - if not the week. I sent a short page to Liz to let her know I was okay. I was happy about having the text pager for the 1st and only time during my tenure at Viant. I interrupted Bob D. on the SLT call to be sure they knew what had happened (or at least knew what we knew at that point). Then I tried the web for more news - nothing.

Since Paul M. & David L. were in LA, it seemed like I could be of some use around the office. So together with a couple others, we set up the Lehman team tracker whiteboard. We also set up the 'bed board' for people who might not get home that night. We tracked down info on where to go to donate blood and to volunteer with the search. Leif - I think it was you who pulled together this sign-in/out board for Mercedes.

Around that time I remember Adam H. returning to the office and being relieved to see him. I remember Ed G. coming in around the same time - and again I was relieved. Slowing the Lehman team was checking in - so good so far.

Then we pulled the office together for an update. It didn't take much to pull people together as everyone was glued to the TV that Michael had rigged up in the corner. As I was running down the list of what we knew/didn't know and what we were doing, the tower fell. I will never forget the looks on peoples faces as that happened. I hope I never feel that helpless again. Nothing I could say or do would change the fact that thousands of people had just lost their lives.

So we kept going. We kept tracking people down, kept finding places for people to stay, kept trying to learn as much as we could about what was going on. Around 11:00/11:30 I remember walking to grab a sandwich at Terrys with Mark P. (16th St maybe?) and seeing the massive cloud downtown and seeing huge numbers of people walking uptown - all of them covered in dust.

By 1:00 or 2:00 everyone was had checked in. For me it was a huge moment of relief knowing that all Vianteers were safe. (I think Aiko was the last we heard from that day) We paged Bob & Di Boston and they sent the news to the rest of the firm.

Throughout late morning/early afternoon I remember snippets of conversations. Perhaps most vividly I recall the concerns of colleagues who had children and how much they wanted to be at home with the kids right then and how concerned they were about what the day's events would mean for their children's lives. I remember Steve S. finally connecting with his wife and how relieved he was. I remember it was a day when no one in the office laughed.

Once we'd heard from everyone, we worked to ensure that everyone would have a place to stay that night - including the clients & would-be clients in for another meeting (KM maybe). By 4:00 or 4:30, everyone had a place to stay or go - and was staying or going. At that point I left the office with Skip M. (sales coach) and we walked back to the Roger Williams (35th & Madison - ish). We stopped in a bar on the way to the hotel and had a couple pints and began the long process of asking who? why? and what do we do about it?

Later that night the FS team that was at the Roger Williams grabbed dinner (after struggling to find a place that was open.

I remember laying in bed with the TV on, listening to Guilliani give an update. I remember sirens, lots and lots of sirens. In fact, it wasn't until I crossed the GW bridge on Friday morning that I didn't stop hearing them. I remember my eyes and throat burning from the smoke. I remember streets with no traffic. I don't remember falling asleep.

X.

From AnnMari, written September 17th, 2001

Hi all,

Let me begin by letting everyone know as most of you already do, that my husband Regis and I are physically okay and are overwhelmed by the love and support that so many friends, colleagues and families have given us. Most of this was written last week as a cathartic exercise in getting on with my life. If you have already had more than your fill of reading and hearing about the WTC attack and its after-events (as many of us have), please accept my thanks for all of the thoughts, concerns and prayers that you had for me during the last week. You can stop reading right now, get back to work, and just play along with me next time we talk and say something like, "Wow, that was really something, thank God you're alive!" Otherwise...

For those not aware, I had been working at WTC 1, 38th floor, for several weeks on project with Lehman Brothers. I was delayed in getting to the office on Tuesday morning due to the local primaries and Regis insisting that I vote before heading to the office (which I did begrudgingly then). Thank God for the hippie, social-activist in the family.

I took the 6 train downtown to Fulton Street and emerged from the subway at 8:40 a.m., onto Dey Street. Running a bit late, I continued with my morning ritual of stopping at Starbucks to get coffee. (Starbucks is on the corner of Dey and Church Street, at the base of the World Trade Center Plaza) I ordered my coffee and was stunned, along with those around me, by what sounded like a bomb exploding. The ground shook, and as I turned to the large windows that look onto Dey street I saw people fleeing in horror, screaming, being followed by glass and debris. (Because of the force of the explosion, it looked as if a fan were blowing everything down the street.) My first reaction was that maybe a movie was being filmed; why else would so many people be running in such terror? Once the glass, metal and office papers stopped raining down, I, and others in the coffee shop, walked outside. All heads were looking up and all eyes were on WTC 1. I was stunned as I saw the fire and smoke emerging from what appeared to be about the 95th floor. I began to ask those around me what had happened; "an American Airlines Plane flew into the building" was what I heard. I was in shock, shaken. All of those around me looked in disbelief, speculating how a pilot could let this happen. Everyone began using their cell phones to call friends and family, I was lucky to get through to Regis's voicemail to tell him that "the WTC had been hit by a plane, and I was okay." This was the only the call I was able get through.

What happened next will forever haunt me. Stunned by what I was witnessing, I continued to stare at the building in disbelief. I was then shaken by a strange sound echoing from the WTC plaza that was directly in front of me. I looked up to see people jumping from the burning floors. I was paralyzed. "The police must already have safety nets in place," was the thought that ran through my mind. How else could these individuals begin jumping from 100 stories up? I then put together the sounds emerging from the plaza with the people falling from above, it couldn't be, I was wrong. Staring into the plaza I saw bodies hitting the pavement, followed by explosions of blood because of the impact. I began crying with those around me, feeling helpless. Paralyzed by this site, I was not aware that a second plane had hit WTC 2. From the angle where I stood it appeared to be an explosion coming out of the top of the building. I thought WTC 2 was going to fall over on to the crowd below. Everyone began running. Glass and debris was coming towards the street and people were ducking for cover. I ran back to the Starbucks on Dey Street, only to find that they had locked their doors. "Those fuckers!" I thought. Several others piled into the doorway seeking cover from the blast and I ended up at the bottom of a human pile up, thinking, "How can I die like this? The WTC's going to fall over and crush us all." (The human-pile ended up keeping me from getting injured from flying glass and debris). This lasted for what felt like forever, but I'm pretty sure was only a couple of minutes. Once the debris settled, those on top of me got up and ran. I got up, saw that both buildings were now on fire, and I ran down Dey Street to Broadway. The streets were full of glass, paper, and shoes scattered about. Once on Broadway, I made my way towards city hall. I felt compelled to stay since my co-workers were on the 38th floor. Confused and alone, I desperately, and continually, hit redial to get through to Regis's office on my cell phone.

A call finally came through from a co-worker, Janice J., and though we were cut off, I was able to communicate to her that I was physically okay. Crowds running down the street then barraged me. "The building is collapsing, run for your life". I ran far enough to not be impacted by the smoke and debris that took over the area and continued to hit redial on my cell phone. Finally, I managed to get a call through to Regis. Sobbing and feeling hysterical I told him I was scared but okay. He instructed me to walk to his office, on Hudson and corner of Houston, since he'd never find me if he left his office and walked towards the chaos. He insisted I stay on the phone with him as I walked, but I felt too disoriented and told him I couldn't. I hung up the phone and tried to get my bearings of where I was and what direction I needed to go.

Far enough from danger, but still in view of the Towers, I witnessed the second building collapse. People were gasping in terror and disbelief. "They're both gone," I heard people screaming. At this point, I felt numb to both buildings having collapsed. I reached Regis's building where he greeted me in the lobby with a big embrace and tears. I don't think I've ever been so happy to see Regis or to feel the comfort of his arms around me.

I find it hard to imagine that I will ever be able to forget the horror that I witnessed on Tuesday. What I can hold onto is how lucky I am to be alive and how blessed I am that everyone I personally know is okay. Regis and I appreciate the love and support that so many of you have shown us over the past couple of days. Thank you.

From Michael K

* At home a few minutes past 9am the emergency vehicle sirens started to get to me. I'm used to hearing them all the time, but this morning seemed excessive-- the sirens were endless and there was no interruption. [I live on 2nd Ave at 24th St]

* About 9:15- I stepped outside to walk crosstown to work, and noticed a rising black cloud of smoke in the distance to the south-west. I realized that there must be a major fire, probably somewhere in Lower Manhattan. I thought of the rotting wooden piers on the Hudson.

* About 9:25- as I approached 5th Ave (21st St) I saw that the sidewalks were jammed with people, all staring south. That was my first view of the towers. It looked like only one tower was on fire from that vantage point. I overheard bits of conversation... "what happened?" "there was an explosion from inside", "no, I think it was a helicopter..."

* As I turned on 20th St towards 6th Ave, I observed someone running out of a building and grinning ear to ear as he rushed towards 5th Ave to join the crowd. It made me wonder about human nature-- that people react to this like an entertainment spectacle. I felt self-guilt that I could possibly rationalize or relate to their reaction.

* About 9:30/9:35 I arrived at Viant, and saw everyone huddled around the TV with the sound turned way up.

-Michael

From Andrea:

Stepping outside my apartment building Tuesday morning at 8:45 am, looking at my watch, thinking "Damn, I'm late," because I had told the team to meet at Penn station at 8:45; crossing the street to catch a cab, hearing a loud, low-flying airplane, stopping, looking up, thinking "i shouldn't be hearing that sound here" not seeing anything, getting into a cab anyway...

Seeing the smoke from the buildings upon emerging from the tunnel on the way to New Jersey. Not knowing what I was seeing, thinking "New Jersey is so polluted!" My father crying when he finally heard my voice on the telephone around 12:30 pm

Sitting at the Red Cross all afternoon in New Brunswick with Edith B. trying to give blood The kindness of the J&J client team insisting that we use their phones to call whoever we needed to call, wherever..

Finally getting back into the city the next morning, seeing the national guard trucks Also, mostly, the care and concern that almost everyone i've ever met showed by calling me, trying to find out if i was okay.

From Seth P.

My daily routine consists of a short walk through a lovely park to my train station in suburban New Jersey, a half-hour's train ride on the Midtown direct to Penn Station, a nice walk from Penn Station to my office on 6th Avenue and 19th Street, where I'll arrive at about 8 am, get myself some cereal and get desk work done before others arrive.

I had sat down to write some kind of e-mail when Julie H. stopped at my desk to tell me - looking more puzzled than worried - that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. She was in the middle of pulling people together for a conference we were hosting at our offices, and she quickly ducked back into the Soho conference room. I vaguely remembered Michael F. - our office jack-of-all-trades - frantically run behind me toward the emergency exit, but I wrote it off as a delivery problem.

I looked around for others, and asked them if they knew anything. I pulled up cnn.com, finding no mention of a crash. And then I called my wife at home, who had taken our daughter to her first day of pre-school. I left a message on our answering machine, telling her that I was in the office, far away from where I had heard there had been a plane crash. It would take hours for us to get in touch again. I also called my parents in Norway, told them I was fine, and asked them to turn on the TV, which they may have already done. About 10 years ago, I had made a similar call from London, where I'd been working one evening in an office building on St. James's Street. A bomb had gone off in the gentlemen's club next door at the time, courtesy of the IRA. One person was killed, but the bang had been unbelievable.

In those factions of seconds after you realize something horrible has happened but before you've managed to get the perspective that will guide your actions, it is absolutely amazing how many thoughts fly past you. Those fractions of seconds extended to hours on September 11th, and arguably haven't quite ended yet.

I went down to the street and found any number of others staring south, toward the World Trade Center. I saw a slice through the building, slightly diagonal, but it didn't look real. The day was too clear, and it reminded me of the special effects unexperienced movie people create when they don't understand that reality is hazy and smoke-filled.

In reflecting on my reactions after the fact, I've been struck that my overriding instinct was to find out what was going on. I left the first-hand view of the street for the second-hand views of the office space, because I figured we'd have better access to information. I found myself glued to the TV Michael had set up in the corner for at least an hour afterwards, trying my best to make sense out of the madness that was unfolding in front of our very eyes. I don't think I said much, but I can't recall. I was irritated at the TV reporters who continued to equivocate about whether it was a terrorist attack, even after the second plane hit. People moved around the office, trying to make phone calls, watching the TV, sharing snippets of information as they became available.

I saw the first tower collapse before the TV reporters did and wondered momentarily I was imagining it. But the moment passed as people around me started screaming. The dust raised by the collapsing tower seemed endless, even as the fall itself seemed merciless. I vaguely remembered that 50,000 people worked daily in the World Trade Center and wondered whether enough time had passed for many of them to evacuate. I also wondered whether the firemen and policemen had enough advance warning to know to not start climbing the stairs.

And I figured, if one tower collapsed, the other will, too. There seemed to be no way to put out the fire in time. I was one of the last to notice when the second tower came down. I couldn't believe my eyes when the first went down, but the second seemed inevitable and somehow more horrifying. It struck me: you are watching thousands of people die right now.

Minutes after the second tower fell, it was as if the whole office zoomed out. We got the details on the attack on the Pentagon and heard there were eight aircraft unaccounted for, still in the air. People moved into action to find members of the Lehman team, who were based in one of the towers. News came trickling in on the TV, among other things that a bomb had gone off in Foggy Bottom. I was in a country under attack by hostile forces.

I went through any number of emotional states, but for some reason, fear didn't figure in. In thinking about the terrorists, all I can remember was "bring it on, fuckers, because you're about to run out of ammunition, and when you do, we will come after you with a vengeance you can't even imagine." But I also wondered: where will I sleep tonight? Will there be food and fresh water? Is it even conceivable to evacuate the city? Do we have enough supplies at home to sustain a shortage of food and water?

And I racked my mind to remember if I knew anyone besides my Viant friends and colleagues who worked in the World Trade Center. I couldn't think of anyone, but it occurred to me that any number of people could have been there for meetings. As the TV commentators noted that this could turn out to be the bloodiest day in U.S. history, bloodier than Antietam, the Civil War battleground I visited, it seemed entirely too likely that someone I knew had been murdered while I watched on TV.

Several of us decided - perhaps out of frustration as much as anything else - to volunteer our services at St. Vincent's Hospital, in anticipation of the many wounded we expected would arrive. Sandy H. is a nurse but had let her license expire. Still, we figured, if things were really bad she should be a competent nurse's aid. But we simply couldn't get ourselves organized to go down there as a group, and I ended up walking there alone. I was walking against the tide. Few cars were on the road, but there was a steady stream of people making their way uptown, much with the same expression and pace as you see in documentaries about refugees on foot, fleeing war.

Still, people were sitting at Cafeteria, eating lunch, drinking iced tea, enjoying the day by all appearances. The grim look of the people on the move stood in surreal contrast with the people sitting around. And nobody seemed to care that I was heading south. I didn't know what to expect at St. Vincent's, but I wondered if I'd see gore and suffering beyond my experience or imagination.

St. Vincent's was mobbed with volunteers, standing in line around the block. Hospital staff were asking for certain kinds of blood donors only, and referred the rest of us to other hospitals. Not an ambulance was in sight; there was no inflow of victims.

I went back to the office and bought some Belgian pastry on the way, not knowing whether I'd get food if I were stranded in the city. I had arranged with my in-laws to spend the night with them on the Upper Eastside, and now I wondered when I should start the walk further north. But for some reason I didn't want to be part of the refugee stream, and I didn't want to leave the companionship of the office.

By this time, the whole Lehman team was accounted for. A few of us knew that Seth lived nearby, but I hadn't heard whether he had checked in. Things still seemed awfully uncertain.

There was a calm over the office by then. People moved slowly, talked in more muted tones, were less prone to express themselves for effect. This horror we had witnessed had made us understated, as if anything else would be trite. Jonathan K. had exchanging text pages with Donna J., who had told him that things were horrible, but that she was fine.

We heard rumors that boats were taking people across the Hudson to New Jersey. Steve S., Bob D., Mark P., and I decided to walk to the riverside to find a way over. We took each our bag and headed west without any particular notion where we'd look. On the way, we passed by a fire station, and I looked in. Several men sat in the garage, apart, quiet, mostly looking down. It was as if their despair blew out of the garage opening like the heat of a furnace, entangling us in an unshakeable feeling of profound deprivation. These were men who knew who they had lost, and to what.

We crossed the Westside highway easily - there was hardly any traffic. But there were ambulances as far as we could see, parked in lines waiting to move out the wounded. The ambulances were from Rockland County, Westchester, New Jersey, all the boroughs. The drivers and ambulance workers were hanging out, talking, not seeming the least put out by being idle.

For all this, the weather never lost its splendor. To the south was a wall of smoke larger than I ever could imagine, but above and in every other direction the air was cool and clear, showing us the full charm of an East Coast fall day. At Chelsea Piers we found that the harbor cruise ships had been commissioned to take people across the river to Weehawken, where Aaron Burr had killed Alexander Hamilton two hundred years ago. We stood in line and received free bottles of water for our troubles. We spoke of the outlook for the economy (deciding that the fiscal stimulus from the recovery efforts would end it), the political agenda of the terrorists (to radicalize the Middle East), and how we'd get from Weehawken to the places we needed to go.

The civility that was to dominate the city in months to come had already started to take effect in that line, and we filed unhurriedly into the ship, bypassing the unstaffed bar. As we pulled out of the pier a gasp came over the crowd, because Seven World Trade Center collapsed.

I have to confess that it took me quite a while to fully realize the fact that the catastrophe on the southern tip of Manhattan was an act of violence, not some sort of natural disaster. I wasn't bothered by nightmares, but it wasn't until this summer I had a full night's sleep like the one I had on the night before September 11th. At my daughter's first day of pre-school, they took a picture of her, time stamped "9/11/01 8:48 am." When she grows up, she will look at that picture and know precisely what she was doing at this historical moment.

In the weeks and months following September 11th, I got involved in a number of online activities in order, I think, to work through it. There was much to learn from the day, but I have to confess that one of the most durable feelings is one of seething anger. It's not just the criminals who did this that anger me, but the reactions I experienced from the "outsiders," especially those with an ocean between them and the island of Manhattan. Let me say that for the first time in my life, I felt ashamed to be born and raised in Europe. And although it wasn't the first time I felt proud to be part of New York, I have never felt such profound pride in being here.