September 11, 2001

20 years have gone by. The other day Molly reminded me that I’d left her a voice message that morning, saying I was ok. She didn’t understand until she turned on the TV. I left a message for my sister Lucy as well. She, too, was baffled. I couldn’t get back to NJ from Manhattan for two days and when I did, we went to a candlelight ceremony at the harbor in our town to honor the 147 souls from our county who’d lost their lives. When we got home she made me her favorite pork chop and lingonberry recipe and we were happy to be together. Every anniversary we’d drive to a nearby hill to look at the tribute in lights over Sandy Hook Bay. Some years we were disappointed because it was foggy so we could hardly make the beams out but we imagined them. We looked forward to it. Sometimes she’d drive, sometimes I would. We didn’t have dinner; we had a mission and a date. Check. Then we went our separate ways. Tonight the weather is perfect. Now Lucy’s in the sky, watching the lights from there. And for the first time, I’m not watching.

New York seems, as they say about Rome, like an eternal city. People have come, gone, returned, retreated, re-entered, been overjoyed and broken hearted, made it or been rejected, won or not, for more than 200 years. Those of us who adore the city know how resilient it is, despite the politics and shenanigans that go on in every city and town. Some lessons learned, many not. New York’s issues are magnified because of its allure and fame. And attitude.

Enduring the months of Covid-19 shutdown, with the tragic loss of life and jobs has been profoundly sobering. Observing the dedication of hospital, medical, police, fire and public service workers to keep things going has been profoundly inspiring. Watching the gradual re-opening, arguments about wearing masks, government errors, miscommunication and mean-spiritedness has been exhausting and overwhelming. But I believe that New York’s essence, its DNA, will be replenished by the fierce loyalty and desire of current and future residents. They will restore the city’s patina because they want to belong, even with the relentless and often terrible unfairness, dissent and division in the country. The idea of the city will always shimmer because life goes on whether we want it to or not and there is always hope.

A few years ago, friends teaching English in France had a young student who had an assignment to write about an event in American history. She chose the September 11th terrorist attacks and my friends suggested that she write to me to contribute to her research. She wanted to know what it felt like being in New York City that day. This is what I shared with her.

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Growing up in New Jersey, we could see the two new giant towers going up in Manhattan, across the Hudson River from my bedroom window. It was so exciting and for years we loved charting their progress.

Years later, when I took the train from my home to New York, the last stop was deep underground in those towers, now called the World Trade Center. There were offices, many busy shops and a famous restaurant on the roof, the 107th floor — called “Windows on the World.” We went there for special occasions and always took all our visitors from other

So — to me — the towers were very familiar, very comfortable, very personal, and traveling to and from them was quite routine. And you could see them from miles away.

On the evening of September 10, 2001, there was a terrible storm all night long, with lightning, thunder and heavy rain. The next morning, September 11, was so gorgeous — deep blue sky and sunny, and everyone was so relieved and happy that it was such a magnificent day. So different than the day before.

I was in my office on the fourth floor of 130 Fifth Avenue, near 18th Street, Manhattan, about 4 km from the Towers. I went in early that day to prepare for a client call with our London office and about 8:45 am, my assistant came in and said there was a plane crash in the World Trade Center. I didn’t think too much about it because New York has several small commuter airports, and there are many helicopters reporting on traffic on the radio.

Then, I began to hear very strange noises from the street outside my  window, and some loud voices. I climbed up on my desk to look outside. Normally at that hour people would be walking to work in every direction. But everyone was stopped, frozen, all looking downtown in the same direction. Some people were bent over as if they were being sick. Others were covering their eyes or their faces. I thought maybe there was a car accident and they were all staring at it. No one was screaming.

There was a lot of commotion in my office and we all ran into the conference room where there was a big TV monitor. On the screen was one tower on fire. Suddenly, as we watched the TV, an airplane appeared from out of nowhere, circled around the other tower and flew straight into it.

We could not believe our eyes. Slowly we realized that this was a deliberate act. I rushed to my desk to call my family to say I was ok. I sent a few emails to friends to say the same but then all email and phones stopped working. Not everyone had a mobile phone in 2001 and so people in the office were frantic about contacting their families.

I left the building and started to walk to my apartment on 54th Street, 36 blocks away. We saw so many people walking from downtown, where the towers were, covered in white dust, some wearing face masks, all with a terrible look of fear and shock.

One friend was a doctor at St. Vincent’s Hospital, near the Towers. All doctors and nurses were ordered to duty. They stood in their surgical gowns and gloves — waiting — to care for people who never came.

That evening, people began to put up photos of people who worked in the Towers, people who were missing. For days and weeks afterward, there were thousands of these photos and posters all over New York — people hoping hoping hoping for news about their friends or family members. I will never forget all those smiling faces on papers stuck to walls and fences. Faces gone forever.

On the first anniversary of September 11, a memorial called the “Tribute in Light” was created. It is two columns of powerful lights that take shape against the night sky. Like the towers we watched growing higher each day, you can see the lights from miles away — they reach into the sky as far as you can see.