September 12, 2001

To catch you all up to date:

September 11, 2001 (thats 9-11 if you didn’t notice)

7:55 am - caught the NJT to Manhattan Penn. Station. 8:07 am - arrived in Manhatten ~8:20 am - caught “A” train subway to 59th Street. ~8:30 am - arrived at 59th Street Station (lower west corner of Central Park) 8:45 am - First plane crashes into WTC-2 (I was Rollerblading in Central Park) 8:55 am - Arrived at work. 9:00 am - Alerted by co-worker who was TeleCommuting that day of the events 9:03 am - World changed forever

It is now Wednesday, Sept. 12, 2:30 am and I just got home a little while ago. Hell of a day.

PS: anyone who knows of job openings for Web Developers/Web Video/Flash - that sort of thing please contact me. I’m currently looking to get the hell out of Dodge.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

[Note: writing is my therapy. I wrote this with my friends and family in mind as the audience. I feel better after composing this letter and I hope that my sharing it with you is in someway benifical in your own understading and coping with this tragedy.]

We all have persistent memories that are indelibly written in our minds. Sometimes it can be the most innocuous events that we can recall with vivid clarity; sometimes it is a moment of shock that we never forget. One commonality with most of these memories is that we are rarely aware, at the time, that these moments will be with us forever. They are either unnoticed or we are pre-occupied. Last night I had an experience that will be with me forever and I was acutely aware of it at the time.

As you all know I made it home last night. (I never thought I would be so happy to be in Newark.) My commute home last night - if you can call it that - was surreal in the extreme.

At about 1am I left the hospital and Rollerbladed to Central Park, my usual route.

There is an area of Central Park called “The Mall” that is my favorite area in all of New York. I go through there every day to and from work. It is a grove of Elm trees planted in four parallel rows with a wide paved path down the center. At one end is a small circular garden with statues of Christopher Columbus and Shakespeare and at the opposite end is a beautiful fountain next to a small lake. The elm trees form an almost complete canopy over the path which makes it a natural gathering area to hide from the summer sun. Nearby is a grandstand where they hold summer concerts.

One particular memory of The Mall was of a warm spring day. My niece and I were there RollerBlading and listening to a blues band playing. There were people everywhere but it wasn’t like a crowded, closed-in, feeling; it was more like a fun outdoor party. My thoughts of being around all these people - young and old, couples holding hands, children playing, people from all over the world - was that this is what civilization is really about.

Another memory of The Mall isn’t from a particular day but is a composite of my walks through there early in the mornings on my way to work. It’s cool and quite. There are usually a few people walking their dogs and a few joggers. It’s New York city before she has gotten up and had her typical double-espresso.

Tho these moments will be with me forever I know now that the first memory that will come to mind when I reflect on Central Park or New York will be from last night.

The Park was almost entirely empty. When I came to the Mall I stopped. Here, in the middle of one of the largest cities in the world during the biggest crises of its history, I was alone. I could see the lights from the surrounding buildings in the distance but the only sound I could here was the chirping of crickets; overhead the stars shown through breaks in the canopy of leaves; the breeze was cool.

I sat down.

Here I comfortably sat in this serenely beautiful, peaceful place and just a few miles south of me was hell on earth.

A crisis focuses the worlds attention and last night the axis of earth’s attention ran through the intersection of Chambers and Rector streets. It was as if I could feel the world’s focus like a ephemeral breeze blowing through me. I wished I could reflect the world’s anguish and shock back with my feelings of calmness and piece.

Personally I feel that I should have no pity for myself. I’ve lost nothing. People suffered through unspeakable horrors before meeting their end yesterday and it continues today. I watched TV. People lost loved-ones forever. I had to work late but recieved free food. Rescue workers got to pick up body parts and I got to Rollerblade down empty streets. Oh, it wasn’t all fun and games. We had to worry if we to were dead and just didn’t know it yet because we had inhaled some bio-chemical. No one drank from the faucet, that’s for sure. But as the horrors mounted those fears passed - at least for me. We focused on the events and prepared for a, hopeful, onslaught of survivors needing medical care. They never came. The trickle of survivors were handled by other hospitals closer to the scene. We did nothing.

No, I lost nothing at all. In fact I gained something. Now, when I see New York, that wonderful cynosure of civilization, I won’t just see glitz and glamour but I’ll also see gore and horror. The irony of it is that I feel fortunate to see it at all.

Dan 9.12.2001