Reading over this Dayle, and I apologize for not seeing it yesterday made me think about that day all over again. Also the day they tried to bomb back in 1993. It hurts alot, but I think that it's important to remember that pain, so I never forget it.
I'll start with 1993- started off like a usual day as a junior in high school. This class that class. I then joined a teacher in his office in the new wing of the school, to talk about starting a men's volleyball team. I stepped into his office and the rest of the day became a blur hearing about the bombing on the radio. Sure that my father was dead, and that I couldn't deal with that so well. The teacher pretty much had me sit in his office until I calmed down, which was well into my next class. I went to my guidance counselor's office and think I got sent home. I don't really remember. it hurt so much until I found out he was okay.
Then began 9/11. I woke up that morning, a nice day in Philly, and walked to class thinking about Dr. Schmidt's lecture on the anatomy of the human arm. The first class went about half way through before someone interrupted saying a plane had hit the Trade Center, but it was near the roof, don't know if it was an accident or not. It was a double lecture so no break but for bathroom. Another 20 minutes went bye, and the same person came back, spoke with Dr. Schmidt for a minute or two, and a terrible look came accross his face. Basically, at that point I realized something was really really wrong. Dr. Schmidt then got to the mike, and we all fell silent. He said "Another plane has hit the other tower, and the first one has fallen. Anyone that needs to leave, feel free, you will have nothing held against....." and yea I was out of my seat and out of the auditorium by then. I ran home and turned on the TV. At least sis you knew a little bit that Dad wasn't there. I had no idea. I watched the planes crashing into the building over and over, and my heart broke. I cryed for hours desperately trying to talk to anybody, but cells were all blocked. I couldn't talk to anyone but those around me. Who all felt bad and tried to help, but seeing that your father is dead for the second time in your life for working in the same building. Too hard. but as you said sis, we were lucky. I finally did get Grandma and she told me they were on a plane, but was sure it wasn't one of those planes. My tears turned to tears of joy. I remember that Aaron finally got through to me, upset himself, saying, "I'm sorry I couldn't go to your house. I couldn't face your mom. I couldn't see her cry. It would kill me. I'm so sorry." He was relieved to hear that they were ok, and that not on one of those planes.
Twice my father has managed to avoid the death toll. I wish I could say like my sister that every one I knew got out. Thankfully most did, in some fantastic unbelievable ways. My friend Eric who had an interview that morning at Cantor-Fitzgerald on the 93rd floor. he was early, but decided to go get a pretzel before his interview instead of going up early. Yeah, he walked into a church on his way back. But I did lose a classmate from high school. There for an interview with his companies NY office, a promotion to help support his family. Just interviewing. Another friend's father died as one of the volunteer fireman's who ran in to help. Yeah he was a congressman too. I only got a glimpse of the aftermath a week or two later. It still hurts.
My father was on a trip to Colorado from what I remember, and had left a day early so he could golf before he had to do business or whatever. And when I heard my mom's voice on the phone saying "I'll never ever complain about him golfing ever again." from Dallas, which thank goodness they were sent to Dallas instead of somewhere else away from a relative. especially the relative that worked for as CEO for a rental car company. All rentals were gone by the time they landed. He gave them a car they were planning on selling off to drive back to NY.
anyhow, that's a little bit of my memories. Sad. hurts alot. But I'm glad you did post Sis. For me to be able to help put some of that hurt out of my life.
sad memories
I'll start with 1993- started off like a usual day as a junior in high school. This class that class. I then joined a teacher in his office in the new wing of the school, to talk about starting a men's volleyball team. I stepped into his office and the rest of the day became a blur hearing about the bombing on the radio. Sure that my father was dead, and that I couldn't deal with that so well. The teacher pretty much had me sit in his office until I calmed down, which was well into my next class. I went to my guidance counselor's office and think I got sent home. I don't really remember. it hurt so much until I found out he was okay.
Then began 9/11. I woke up that morning, a nice day in Philly, and walked to class thinking about Dr. Schmidt's lecture on the anatomy of the human arm. The first class went about half way through before someone interrupted saying a plane had hit the Trade Center, but it was near the roof, don't know if it was an accident or not. It was a double lecture so no break but for bathroom. Another 20 minutes went bye, and the same person came back, spoke with Dr. Schmidt for a minute or two, and a terrible look came accross his face. Basically, at that point I realized something was really really wrong. Dr. Schmidt then got to the mike, and we all fell silent. He said "Another plane has hit the other tower, and the first one has fallen. Anyone that needs to leave, feel free, you will have nothing held against....." and yea I was out of my seat and out of the auditorium by then. I ran home and turned on the TV. At least sis you knew a little bit that Dad wasn't there. I had no idea. I watched the planes crashing into the building over and over, and my heart broke. I cryed for hours desperately trying to talk to anybody, but cells were all blocked. I couldn't talk to anyone but those around me. Who all felt bad and tried to help, but seeing that your father is dead for the second time in your life for working in the same building. Too hard. but as you said sis, we were lucky. I finally did get Grandma and she told me they were on a plane, but was sure it wasn't one of those planes. My tears turned to tears of joy. I remember that Aaron finally got through to me, upset himself, saying, "I'm sorry I couldn't go to your house. I couldn't face your mom. I couldn't see her cry. It would kill me. I'm so sorry." He was relieved to hear that they were ok, and that not on one of those planes.
Twice my father has managed to avoid the death toll. I wish I could say like my sister that every one I knew got out. Thankfully most did, in some fantastic unbelievable ways. My friend Eric who had an interview that morning at Cantor-Fitzgerald on the 93rd floor. he was early, but decided to go get a pretzel before his interview instead of going up early. Yeah, he walked into a church on his way back. But I did lose a classmate from high school. There for an interview with his companies NY office, a promotion to help support his family. Just interviewing. Another friend's father died as one of the volunteer fireman's who ran in to help. Yeah he was a congressman too. I only got a glimpse of the aftermath a week or two later. It still hurts.
My father was on a trip to Colorado from what I remember, and had left a day early so he could golf before he had to do business or whatever. And when I heard my mom's voice on the phone saying "I'll never ever complain about him golfing ever again." from Dallas, which thank goodness they were sent to Dallas instead of somewhere else away from a relative. especially the relative that worked for as CEO for a rental car company. All rentals were gone by the time they landed. He gave them a car they were planning on selling off to drive back to NY.
anyhow, that's a little bit of my memories. Sad. hurts alot. But I'm glad you did post Sis. For me to be able to help put some of that hurt out of my life.