<p>Here is my little dilemma. I was going through old files and found a business card of a man who perished on 9/11. I only met him during an interview, so he was not a friend. If it belonged to one of the many people I really knew, I would certainly keep it, but I also don’t feel right throwing it in the trash. Should I mail it to his family?</p>
<p>NJres, I would probably not send it unless you had some particularly fond remembrance of him or of how he conducted himself in the interview,etc. ,some recollection that might be meaningful to the family. Of course, some families might be comforted just knowing that you found the card and still remember. It’s a hard call.</p>
<p>momma-three,</p>
<p>Very hard not to be moved…</p>
<p>Even a moment’s thought on that day, with the unimaginable and unspeakable torment laid upon the victims, plus the fathomless pain it brought to their loved ones, makes our seemingly “insurmountable” problems we sometimes face much, much easier to bear…</p>
<p>That we need such events to bring us down to earth is the damning part of it.</p>
<p>^ Thank you for the link (#82), leanid.</p>
<p>I remember many things about 9/11 - the clear blue sky, the shock when the towers fell, the absence of planes flying (I also live near a flight path, in northern CT), the lack of commercial interruptions of news coverage for DAYS, trying to explain to the kids and shield them from the horror.</p>
<p>My dad had died suddenly, tragically in May of 1999. Call me crazy, but the events of 9/11 seemed to snap me out of this lingering grief. After 9/11, I began to stop feeling sorry for myself and my family (for the most part, anyway), and realized how truly fortunate we still were. How much tragedy there was at that time, and how mine was just a small part. I can’t explain it.</p>
<p>^ You just did.</p>
<p>I am one of those annoying New Yorkers who walks really fast and has little patience with tourists on the sidewalk, but one of the things I remember most vividly is the first time I encountered tourists after 9/11. The city had been very quiet for weeks and the absence of tourists was glaring and depressing. Around Halloween I was crossing the street and this family came up to me with a map and asked directions. I swear to you I started to cry and wanted to hug and thank them for coming.</p>
<p>One of the other things I remember is the Canadian Mountie who came that first week, as did law enforcement from all over the country and Canada, to direct traffic. It was both strange and touching to see him, all decked out in his red uniform, waving cars on through the intersection.</p>
<p>I also remember the spontaneous memorials at every firehouse, as well as the spontaneous applause whenever fire trucks passed, filled with dust-covered firefighters returning from the hole in the ground in the days before we lost hope of finding survivors in the rubble.</p>
<p>I remember the missing posters that remained hanging all over the city for, literally, years until they faded to invisible.</p>
<p>I remember the procession of funerals that went on for years. </p>
<p>I remember finally getting on a bus to go home that day and first sight of the smoke rising from the mutilated skyline as we crossed the Verrazano Bridge. That was when I understood what the phrase “I felt a scream welling up inside my chest” really meant.</p>
<p>The Newsweek issue that just arrived in my mailbox had some good analysis & interviews. I find that I’m better able to read the retrospectives than watch them.</p>
<p>We know a man that walked down over 60 flights and got home that night and told his wife he wanted a divorce. He had been involved with a woman on the side. A week after his divorce was final, he married the other woman.</p>
<p>Like a lot of people I felt obligated to read all 2985 obituaries in the NYT.( published over the following months)
For some reason, I still remember very specific arbitrary details written in those obits.</p>
<p>I have felt a profound sadness creeping up on me this week. Much like I feel when I am approaching the anniversary of the death of a departed loved one. I am not up to watching any of the coverage of the anniversary this weekend. We are intentionally spending the weekend camping at a remote ocean side spot.</p>
<p>I for one was not personally affected by 9/11 (insofar as I have no loved ones living in NY or Wash DC, did not know anybody on the planes or buildings) and I would have to say 9/11 was the worst day of my life, so I can’t imagine what it was like for those who actually were affected or had friends / relatives / neighbors affected as so many on the East Coast had.</p>
<p>momma-three - I’m waiting for a story - fictional or otherwise - to emerge from the shadows of 9/11 that involves a person who saw this tragedy as a way of getting out of his/her life. I just think there’s someone out there who was in a horrible mess, saw the towers go down and took off, never to be seen again.</p>
<p>musicamusica - One of the obits that I remember the most was that of a firefighter whose mother said something to the effect that he really was an SOB but that she loved him and missed him.</p>
<p>9/11 was when S1 knew for certain that he would serve in the Armed Forces of the U.S.A.
He was a soph. in h.s. and watching the coverage on t.v. in his history class. He never wavered in his commitment and is currently serving.</p>
<p>I was at home alone and remember feeling panic rising. DH works at a nuclear power plant on the east coast and I couldn’t get in touch with him. There had been talk of what would happen if a nuc. plant was targeted.</p>
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<p>I think many Americans feel a connection to New York City even if they don’t live there. We feel a sense of connection that we don’t feel to other places. I was there about five weeks before 9/11. After a long day of touring, my son and I sat in Battery Park looking at the towers. We looked at each other and wondered, “Should we go?” and though about if we could squeeze it in before our evening plans. I said, “We can’t do everything. We’ll go next time.” We snapped photos of the towers that were not developed until after 9/11. It broke my heart to see those photos. It was like developing film of a loved one who died between when the photo was snapped and when the film was developed.</p>
<p>musicamusica: I for one made sure to renew my Xanax prescription this week. I don’t often need it anymore, but I’ve found that having 9/11 memories resurface or having events happen that “feel” the same to me personally (i.e. the Tuscaloosa tornado during which I watched live coverage on the internet when my D1 was on campus) bring back the panic attacks pretty quickly.</p>
<p>Woody…There were many families in such denial about their loved ones being gone because there were so many bodies or remains not found until so much later, that they were holding out hope that their loved ones were in hospitals or suffering from amnesia or shock and lost somewhere. Who knows maybe there was someone who left their life and found another one on some deserted island. I guess anything is possible…The guy that left his wife came clean that night and she still says that “9/11 did’nt kill her husband but it killed their family.” I would like to think that most people who survived the walk down those steps saw life differently and maybe clung to family instead of leaving them. Than again, I guess this guy realized how miserable he was with his wife and decided that after being that close to death he wanted to be with the woman he loved.</p>
<p>RobD—I am sure you are not alone. How terrible about living through the fear of your daughter on campus during that Tornado. I don’t think I would be able to watch that.</p>
<p>I was driving home tonight and saw 2 bright yellow hot air ballons hanging in the air above the area where we live… The balloons have been a local “staple” for a long time. A small town south of us even has a hot air balloon in its logo… When all air traffic was grounded following the 9/11, and when the recession hit following that, H and I were praying for the return of the (stupid!) air balloons… I’m so hapy to see them soaring above my house, and I welcome the rolling dog barking that signals their arrival. To me, the ballons are the symbol of our freedom. I know, silly and senimental…</p>
<p>Oh my God, the story of young Welles Crowther’s ultimate sacrifice (story linked by leanid in post #82) has touched me in a way I can’t even describe. And the thing is, his is only one of several 9/11 stories of this type; stories of extraordinary individuals who exemplified the very highest attributes possible in the human spirit, even in the immediate wake of an act of abject evil, carried out by individuals whose spirits were filled with the worst sort of darkness, individuals who perversely believed they were engaging in noble sacrifices of their own. It defies my understanding that such opposites can exist on the same planet, much less converge in a single building. Every time I turn around, I find more reasons to cry when remembering that awful day. Like Pizzagirl, I didn’t personally know a single victim of 9/11. Nevertheless, I have never felt so desolate, and count it as the worst day of my life, also. It’s something that’s hard to explain or fathom. Had I been in the shoes of some of you, people who lost friends, coworkers or loved ones, I suspect that the grief would have killed me outright.</p>
<p>I was startled when a friend from the UK mentioned a 9/11 story she had read over there. She figured Americans would know about it, but it received little media coverage here.</p>
<p>[ART</a> FOR A CHANGE - Michael Richards](<a href=“http://www.art-for-a-change.com/Month/month.htm]ART”>ART FOR A CHANGE - Michael Richards)</p>
<p>^ “She figured Americans would know about it, but it received little media coverage here.” </p>
<p>Every person who either survived or died on 9/11 has a story. That is the beauty of human life, most people leave their mark on those they love. There are thousands of seemingly regular people who did not act in a regular way that day and those stories will never be told. For Michael Williams… his beautiful art will be a lasting reminder of the great talent that ended that day.</p>