We Need Each Other: A September 11 Memory

At 8:45 am on September 11, 2001, I was getting off the M4 bus at 79th and 5th on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. I was on my way to class at CUNY Hunter College School of Social Work, where I was an MSW student. I remember hearing the radio of a car parked along 79th Street. The radio announcer said that there was a hole in the World Trade Center. I remember thinking, “Morning radio DJs are getting really desperate. That’s not a funny joke.”

Our class took a break just before 10:00 am, and one student who came in late told us that she heard that an airplane had hit one of the World Trade Center towers. I imagined a tiny private plane had grazed the building, and figured that the plane probably had sustained more damage than the building.

I went outside and walked around the corner to my favorite coffee shop. I was surprised to see that the coffee shop employees were closing the gate to the store. I asked them what was going on and they said that their boss told them to lock up and go home. Before I could ask why, one of the employees looked at me and said, “Terrorism. Planes are crashing into buildings on purpose. One into each of the twin towers. Another one just hit the Pentagon.”

The rest of the day is a blur. What I do remember, though, is something that I’m not very proud of. I was so afraid that I felt like I had to separate myself from everything that was happening. I didn’t want to face a reality that felt too painful to endure. I found a quiet room in my school and hid.

Then, a stranger walked into the room where I was hiding. He was a tall, young African American man wearing a security guard uniform. His arm was in a sling and he was covered head to toe with gray dust. He told me that he was a security guard at the world trade center. He had been hurt by a piece of shrapnel that had fallen off the building and was taken to Lenox Hill hospital, a few blocks from my school. The buses and subways weren’t running yet and he was stuck on the upper east side. Our building was open, and he wandered in. He was looking for help getting in touch with his family so they could know that he was OK.

At first, I was angry with this man for forcing me to face reality when the only thing I wanted to do was to hide.  His presence made me realize that no amount of hiding could change what had happened that day. People were suffering, scared, and angry. My city was broken and scarred. We all needed each others’ support to make it through the tragedy. I offered my new friend my cell phone and a place to sit. He called his family and let them know he was OK.

It’s difficult for anyone to come face-to-face with something horrible, something painful, something that breaks your heart. But, we can’t help each other if we are unwilling to face the reality of suffering, injustice, and pain that many people in our community feel on a daily basis.

People are suffering in our community right now. Their suffering may not be the result of a dramatic event that changed the course of world history, but their suffering is just as real.  One difference, though, is that people who suffer with homelessness, poverty, hunger, and addiction often do so in isolation.

If you are wondering how you will commemorate September 11th this year, I have a suggestion. Reach out to someone who is suffering, no matter how painful it may be to open your heart to their situation.