Twelve years ago, on a crisp Tuesday morning, I stood on the Metro North platform waiting to take an early train into the city. I had an errand I wanted to fit in at the World Trade Center before going into the office. Well, the train ran late. I was pissed. The world had done me wrong. My schedule was all thrown off. By the time I got down to the financial district, I decided to just go directly to my office on Wall Street and handle the errand later. Like so many people in New York City on this date twelve years ago, the things I saw and experienced are forever etched into who I am now. The panic of my family as they thought I had gone to the WTC around 8:00am and then could not reach me for much of that day is something that comes back fresh every year on this date. I remember the violence and the loss of life. I remember the emergency crews and their sacrifice. I remember the burning smell that choked your lungs and made you gasp for air. I remember walking in a debris field toward the north, part of the mass exodus of people fleeing the lower part of Manhattan in silence. I remember the extraordinary human spirit that came through in a city where typically no one will look you in the eye or pay you any mind as they bustle about their day. I remember there is no other place on this planet like New York City. I will never, ever complain about a late train again. God bless us all; God bless America.
Posted on: Wed, 11 Sep 2013 13:37:07 +0000
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