I went on a class trip in 1988 to the Statue of Liberty. My mom gave me a disposable camera and a ham sandwich in a brown paper bag. We took the ferry, and I snapped one photo because that’s all you did back then. You couldn’t afford to keep going.
Fast forward to 2001. I called in sick that day. I was working at JP Morgan (via Accenture) and I HaTED my job. So, I needed a day to sleep in.
The towers were hit.
I woke up and watched the news without blinking.
My father worked in the towers.
My mother came home from work to be with me. She threw up on the N train. I sat and watched the unedited version of the live event. Not what’s shown these days. I couldn’t reach my dad. Phones were down.
We thought he was dead. We knew he was dead.
Hours later, he showed up covered in soot. Head to toe. He had to walk from downtown to Astoria. Couldn’t get to his car. He was outside having a smoke. A freaking cigarette.
Never forget.