I Will Never Forget

[QuantumJo]

I Will Never Forget

I was with my brother, RC, at Majeskies Nursery picking up some supplies for the water garden job we were to install for a customer that morning. My Max Webster tape was in the deck, the tunes were loud and the bed was full of field stone, rubber liner, cinder block and various bags of decorative stone and mulch. It was a bright sunny Tuesday morning with not a cloud in sight. I was looking forward to completing the job, getting paid and having some ice cold beers when we were done.

When we arrived, my partner was at the job digging the hole for the water garden. The first order of business was to get the supplies off the truck. About half way through emptying the bed of its contents, the homeowner, a woman with silver hair, walked up to us and said “There was a terrible plane crash this morning”. I was saddened by the news and remember thinking that I would see it on the news in the evening when I got home. My brother and I continued to empty the supplies from the truck. As I was on my way to the back yard with a wheelbarrow full of cinder blocks, I noticed that the homeowner had brought out a portable color TV set and placed it on a table in her garage and plugged it in… and there it was, thick smoke bellowing from the top of WTC 1 and 2. I could hardly believe what I was seeing.

Soon afterwards I was watching the footage of the 767’s impacting the towers. It was surreal, I called the guys over and we watched. I sat down trying to put together what happened while the confused reporter was rattling off bits of information.

I desperately wanted to make contact with my other brother who lives on the lower east side of Manhattan. I called on my cell phone but could not get a connection. After several attempts with no success, I began to wildly throw the remaining supplies off the truck. I needed to get to a landline to see if I could get through to my brother. I left the job and raced home as quickly as possible, it seemed like my spinning tire would never hook up and give me some traction.

When I got home, I turned on the TV, only to see that there was only one tower standing. On the second attempt to call my brother I got through. He had told me that he was safe and so was his family. He told me his wife, who was on the balcony of their 22nd floor apartment, saw the second plane hit. The next call I made was to my Mother letting her know that my brother was safe and that he would call her. After that, I called my best friend Nigel who was living in Staten Island at the time. We talked a bit in disbelief with what was happening. He was on the roof of his apartment and I was glued to the TV. In mid sentence he said “Oh my God…they’re both gone…” moments later I saw the other tower collapse.

I lived in NYC from 1990 - 1991. That is where I met Nigel. We would sell bootleg videotapes in the towers, then after a good day of sales we would get a few beers and hang out by the water at World Wide Plaza.

Every year on September 11th (and as I type this post) I find myself in tears. Tears for the children that were lost that day, tears for the passengers on the planes, tears for the people that leapt to their death, tears for men and women in the towers whose life was taken from them, tears for the police and fire fighters who so selflessly went into harms way to help people that they have never met, tears for the loved ones of the victims, tears for the good men and woman who continue to suffer. Tears, tears, tears.

No, I don’t believe that I will ever forget.