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Some thoughts on September 11, 2001


MacGyver

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So I thought I would share a couple of thoughts on September 11, as someone who was in the 1WTC that terrible morning. The anniversary has actually been a lot tougher on me than I expected. Every anniversary this far has been a lot easier. I have a couple of good friends who call me every year and let me know that they're glad I'm still around. This year though, has been tough. I think it is mostly because I'm still really unsettled 10 years later. We've got a lot of good men and women still standing in the gap, and sometimes it doesn't feel like we're any closer to any resolution. It really feels like the act of taking those 2977 people's lives has still gone at least mostly unanswered. I'm not a vengeful person, but I'd like to see this evil banished from the earth.

I'm not going to write my story of that morning right now. It's long, and somewhat hard to get through today. If you see me in person, ask and I'll be happy to share it with you. One thing that has remained with me over these 10 years though, are some of the positive things that I saw at Ground Zero. While I see the devastation at the site, the people jumping out of the windows, and the buildings collapsing when I go to sleep at night, the things that have really endured with me are the human stories, and how that event affected us all.

I'll share three:

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As the buildings collapsed, you really had no choice but to move away. There was a sea of people moving away from the building, and it was really impossible to go against it. Plus, the debris from the explosion, fire and collapse literally turned the night to day and seemed to remove your very ability to breathe from the air. You simply had to get away from the site.

I went back down early that afternoon however, and because of my position at the time and a logistics background, I worked the site until the National Guard could get their controllers onsite. Early morning on September 12, maybe around 0330 or so, I was leaving the site with several firefighters and rescue personnel. We were covered head-to-toe in soot and ash, and were completely exhausted - physically, mentally and spiritually. No one said a word in 15 blocks. There was simply nothing to say. I know we have several here who can likely chime in, but firefighters and rescue personnel are generally a pretty reserved bunch when it comes to accepting thanks. You can say thank you if you like, but we don't expect it. There's a sense of it's our job, and we're just doing it.

We were completely black, and because of the smoke and the fact that the streets were blocked off, it seemed even darker. But, I'll never forget crossing Canal Street. As we approached Washington Square Park you could see lights. As we got closer, you could see they were candles. People were lining the street with candles, flags, food and water. It was one of the strongest senses of unity I've ever felt. I'll remember until the day I die, looking to the side, down the line of black faces next to me, and simply seeing the clear streaks from the tears streaming down each of our faces. It brings tears to my eyes now to simply think about it.

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One of my fondest memories of the nine months that I spent at the site following September 11 was in the early days of the rescue, before it turned into a recovery operation. Rescue dogs were brought in, and if you've never been around a working dog, they are a sight to behold. They do a great job, and while it is a job to them, you can tell that they have fun with it. They're doing what they were born to do.

The dogs were having a really tough time, though. They were trained to find live people, and we simply weren't finding them. Other than a very few found in the early days, there really weren't many survivors. This took a massive toll on the dogs, and you could see it in them.

I was leaving the site one afternoon, and happened to be walking out with a couple of other people, a dog and his handler. As we neared the edge of the red zone, there was a firefighter sitting on a piece of sectional steel with his head in his hands, completely and totally spent. He was emotionally exhausted, had lost good friends in the building, and it was all weighing on him right there. As we approached, this golden retreiver looked at him, and bounded ahead a little bit. He ran over the man, and gently nuzzled him, only to have the guy push him away. We were even with him by this point, and I remember that dog just stepping back and looking at the man in that confused way that only a retreiver can.

Not to be rejected that easily, the dog looked at the man, and then looked at us as we continued to walk towards the perimeter. The dog ran towards us, and his handler, without even turning around or even looking at the dog just dropped the duffel bag he was carrying that had all of the dog's protective gear in it. The dog jammed his head down into the bag and came up with a tennis ball. He then looked at his trainer and ran back over to the man sitting on the steel. He dropped the ball at the guys feet, sat down and just looked straight at the guy. Of course no one could resist this dogs persistence, and the guy threw the ball for the dog, and we all experienced a little bit of healing right there.

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I was there for nine months, and the city was a wreck in the early days. No one knew what was going on. I needed a place to stay, and knew that at some point I was going to have a bunch of guys working for me, so I negotiated a big block of rooms at the St. Regis Essex House on Central Park South. I've stayed in a lot of hotels in my day, and this would certainly qualify as one of the nicest. The rooms that we paid $79/night for probably go for $1500/night today.

My team finally showed up, and it happened to be made up of a bunch of Marines who were really great. Very task motivated with no whining. The Essex House had a service where they would shine your shoes if you left them outside your door at night. Mind you, they were used to wingtips, not jump boots.

We worked for at least 16 hours a day, and came back every night filthy dirty. Nonetheless, the Marines enjoyed the accomodations, and each night, we left our boots outside of our doors. And, each morning, we'd open our doors to find them spotless.

After about two weeks of this, I got up early one morning to go grab a cup of coffee and a paper before heading to the site. It was probably about 0400, and I ran into the Bell Captain delivering our boots. I pulled him aside and thanked him, but then told him that when they got tired of shining our boots to let me know. I knew they were nasty, and though it was a novelty to my Marines, we were used to shining our own boots. I simply told him to give me the word, and that we wouldn't bother them with it anymore. He immediately cut me off and told me that the shined about 150 pairs of shoes a night. They drew straws to see who got to shine our boots.

I really miss the unity that was present in those days. But, it makes me remember the good in our country. When I get really pesimistic about our country or our future, I think back to my time in New York. It was an honor and a blessing to be there during that time.

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I would like to thank you for sharing that.

I know I have been through more than many, and it is often on where we shift our focus that allows us to cope with events like this.

The memories of the camaraderie, community, and humanity are as equally important as the memories of events that occurred that day.

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I would like to thank you for sharing that.

I know I have been through more than many, and it is often on where we shift our focus that allows us to cope with events like this.

The memories of the camaraderie, community, and humanity are as equally important as the memories of events that occurred that day.

I can close my eyes and picture the pure devastation. It took your breath away every day to see it. I don't have to close my eyes to remember the smell and the taste it left in your mouth. I can tell you the story of that morning, but it's only because I've told it so many times. I have to work really hard to put all of the details of that morning into a linear set of events, and I'm trained to do that.

I'd argue that all of the other memories are more important. It's the only way that any of us cope with it all.

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I can tell you the story of that morning, but it's only because I've told it so many times. I have to work really hard to put all of the details of that morning into a linear set of events, and I'm trained to do that.

I've heard and have been told that writing it all down in excruciating detail puts it all into a different place in your memory so that you never forget the details but that they also don't stay up in your active mind and that it does let you sleep without the unbidden recall, because you know you can recall it all by re-reading it, if you chose to do so. It's like putting something very precious in a very safe place so that you don't have to carry it around in your hand.

It may be one of the reasons that there are so many first person accounts by warriors; they are all seeking relief and rest from their experiences.

In my opinion, if you didn't care a great deal, it probably wouldn't bug you. I have not met you but you are clearly a really good person.

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I've heard and have been told that writing it all down in excruciating detail puts it all into a different place in your memory so that you never forget the details but that they also don't stay up in your active mind and that it does let you sleep without the unbidden recall, because you know you can recall it all by re-reading it, if you chose to do so. It's like putting something very precious in a very safe place so that you don't have to carry it around in your hand.

It may be one of the reasons that there are so many first person accounts by warriors; they are all seeking relief and rest from their experiences.

In my opinion, if you didn't care a great deal, it probably wouldn't bug you. I have not met you but you are clearly a really good person.

I've been thinking about this today, and this won't sound quite like I want it to, because it makes it seem like I have some bigger role, and I don't. But, despite how unsettling it is even now 10 years later, I feel like I owe it to the victims not to forget.

I should be dead. I should have been in my office on the 78th floor - just a couple of floors below where the first plane went in. My office was on the side of impact. I should have been one of the people that was simply never found. But, for whatever reason, I'm still here and they're not.

Some people, when they hear my story say that God must have spared me. But even though I have a strong faith, I can't really assign it to providence, because I don't think my life is worth any more than those other 2977 innocent people's. I may not understand God's ways, but I don't think he works like that.

Despite how troubling it can be, the heart of the matter is that I really don't want to forget any of it. Even if it wakes me up in the night, I want it to stay in the front of my mind, because I feel like if we forget them - if we "move on", then they died for nothing.

We've still got work to do.

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I've been thinking about this today, and this won't sound quite like I want it to, because it makes it seem like I have some bigger role, and I don't. But, despite how unsettling it is even now 10 years later, I feel like I owe it to the victims not to forget.

I should be dead. I should have been in my office on the 78th floor - just a couple of floors below where the first plane went in. My office was on the side of impact. I should have been one of the people that was simply never found. But, for whatever reason, I'm still here and they're not.

Some people, when they hear my story say that God must have spared me. But even though I have a strong faith, I can't really assign it to providence, because I don't think my life is worth any more than those other 2977 innocent people's. I may not understand God's ways, but I don't think he works like that.

Despite how troubling it can be, the heart of the matter is that I really don't want to forget any of it. Even if it wakes me up in the night, I want it to stay in the front of my mind, because I feel like if we forget them - if we "move on", then they died for nothing.

We've still got work to do.

God has a plan and even if He has not revealed it to you yet, there is a reason you were spared.

Thank you for sharing your experiance.

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