If any of you are familiar with my work here on Blogcritics or any of the other online journalism sites I write for, you would know that I am never really short for words; however, it has taken me quite some time to consider what I will say on the subject of 9-11: so many others have put forth opinions and have made comments.
I was born and raised in New York; now living in California, I often miss my home state, and I often write as such. I am forwarding to you my thoughts on the historic day as those of a misplaced New Yorker, a man far from home looking in from the outside. On September 11th, 2001, radical extremists with plans of destruction successfully devastated not just a city, but a country, killing thousands and changing the lives of millions of people, forever. In less than one day, the hopes and dreams of some were forever silenced, others have scars that will never heal, and some will never trust again.
On September 11th, 2001, I was at work for a software company in California, answering phones and helping our clients with their software and technical issues; it seemed like any other day that has been the dull and dreary height of my career at this particular company. A coworker in the cube next to me was discussing their clients issue when they turned to me and said “Hey, I just heard an explosion, my phone dropped out.” I thouht he must have hear something or maybe it was the sound of traffic, maybe a truck backfire. Within moments the supervisors came around and told everyone to assemble in the break room for an announcement. Our managers and supervisors looked frazzled and unprepared to speak to us, the top manager came into the room, teary eyed and shaking, he took a moment to compose himself and told us the grim news, “A plane has struck one of the towers at the World Trade Center, and it appears as if a second plane has just struck the second tower. We are no longer answering phones, if you have family or loved ones in New York, you may time this time to contact them. We will let you know if we will recommence our normal work agenda.”
I went back to my desk and contacted everyone I knew that lived close to the towers, friends and family. I even called those nowhere near the towers; I felt the need to know everything, but being in California, I also felt helpless and unable to do anything. I went online to seek out news and find some answers. Watching the news unfold, I was glued to the seat, and then the towers started to fall, it was like a surrealistic horror movie, I watched as a part of my childhood home fell apart. As I saw news about the other flights and found out about the terrorist plot, confusion and sorrow gave way anger and rage, and then nothing, just an empty feeling, a void had appeared where my mind was.
In the weeks to follow, every reporter and news pundit speculated on the reasons and the causes, the universal effects and every point within and in between; few seemed to be making much of any sense at all. I do not intend to cover all these points, after all, this is an opinion piece, and it is my opinion. Looking at this as a man far from home, and seeing his home ravaged and burned, I tried to look at the “what is” rather than the “what was.” While so many have contemplated the destruction and devastation, too few saw the mass mobilization, the hundreds of volunteers that came to the rescue, the support and unification of the people of New York that worked together through the trying time of putting things back into some kind of order. New York has been considered a cold and stone souled metropolis; however, on that day it ran hot with the blood and warmth of brotherhood. New York on that day was struck hard by the hand of evil, and it shook it off and said “Bring it”, as only New York can.