It is really hard to believe it has been five years since that fateful day. A day I will surely never forget. A day that my son will know only because of my memories, history books and those around him who will learn about it years later.
Where was I? I was in bed in my Apartment in Lake Geneva, WI. My phone rang at about quarter to 8 that morning. It was my mom. She's a first generation Italian American Roman Catholic from the Bronx NYC. I could tell she was shaken as she croaked out "turn on the TV, my God, Jeremy, the Twin Towers have been hit.
"Twin Towers". That's what we always called them. Not many people (unless you were a native New Yorker) called them that. To everyone around us today, they are, well they were; WTC or World Trade Center.
To me, they were the Twin Towers. My grandmother worked there. My cousins, Aunt's uncles, etc., were (are) Customs Agents. I've been in those "Twin Towers". I've been on top of one of them. As a kid I always longed to find out if a penny dropped from the top would really plunge 6 feet into the pavement below. I never could have imagined 5 years ago that it would not be pennies hitting the pavement, but poor helpless souls; human beings with no where else to go.
I turned on the TV as mom requested. I could not believe what I saw. I've been around aircraft and aviation enough to know this was no accident. It was no small plane as my mom thought, or the TV anchor seemed to indicate. It was a commercial jet. I knew from the moment I saw it. I also knew it was intentional.
The second plane struck. The phone dropped as my mother screamed, "God, no, not another one". All I could think was, "FUCKING BASTARDS!"
I picked up the phone, the news anchor finally succumbing to the reality of this new moment in time. "this is an attack", "we are at war" , "we are under attack".
Mom had to get off the phone to start calling family. Though a native New Yorker, 30+ years removed, the accent and attitude was undoubtedly still there. Mom had to find out if family members were able to escape the horror.
Uncle Nicki drives the trains. He calls them "trains", others call it the subway. Nicki loved trains. He like his brother went to work for NYC Transit, and never once missed a day on the job. This day was no exception. Nicki was underground, driving a subway train destined for WTC North when he was called and told to stop. For four hours under the rubble of what Nicki and his passengers would later find out was the WTC. Smoke, dust, heat and shaking. Four hours underground. No one knew what was going on. Nicki kept passengers calm, and they eventually made their way to the surface only to find the skyline we all knew and love changed forever.
Aunt Gloria and Uncle Joe work for Customs. WTC 5 was their building. Not many people realized then that the "Twin Towers" as I still call them, were made up of a series of seven buildings at the WTC Complex. My aunt and uncle made their way out of building 5 praying, screaming, in shock as body parts, some still falling, lay strewn across the paper covered streets of lower Manhattan. The unspeakable horror they must have felt, its impossible to imagine.
We were lucky. Very lucky. Everyone we knew and loved that was at the center of this tragedy lived to talk about it.
Sadly nearly 3,000 fellow Americans, people of all races, religions and nationalities were not so lucky. Some did not have time to suffer, for they never saw it coming. Others had time to call their loved ones and say good by. Many chose to jump from over 1000 feet in the air rather than be burned alive in agony. I can only imagine how a life time of memory could be spelled out in 10 seconds of free fall.
In the hours and days that followed this great tragedy, I truly felt the world was coming to an end. I guess I, like a lot of American's was in total shock.
When I look back 5 years later, I do not feel that way any longer. In part, having a president with a pair of balls has certainly helped in that regard. I'm happy that America has a foreign policy which now includes, not taking anyone's shit; striking first, before getting hit.
I only hope America never falls to foreign interests again, or lets scandals, fucking girls in the oval office, or poll numbers dictate American foreign policy and counter terrorism efforts.
Bill Clinton, you fucked us all, not just Monica.
