Today, 9 years ago, I was in Lower Manhattan witnessing the day. On that day, I shared the journey trying to leave Manhattan with a good friend. And on that day, we worried about the whereabouts of her husband, who had called her after the first plane had struck. He worked at World Trade Center 7 and had just arrived to work that day. He told her, "Honey, a plane just hit one of the towers. I'm going to see if I can find the guys and go help."
That was it and the last she heard from him that morning.
But after we finally reached home on Long Island - she to her home, me to mine - later in the evening, her husband arrived home. He was covered in ash from head to toe. His car had a thick layer of ash, despite it having been driven home from the city. My friend told me that her husband looked like a ghost, totally white in colour, except his eyes - which were red from all of the irritation from the dust and fumes.
Today is the first September 11th since 9 years ago that her husband will not come home. He died this past May. The toxicology reports are not yet done on the autopsy, as the medical examiner cannot quite figure out exactly what contributed to his death.
Leslie Gee, my friend's husband, was an ATF Senior Agent that worked at rescue and recovery at Ground Zero. On that day, after the planes struck, he assisted in directing people out of the building and towards safety. He survived both building collapses. The second is the one that threw him, he lost consciousness to be found by NYC firefighters. He went to triage. He insisted he return home rather than the hospital. The next day at 6 AM he reported for duty to begin rescue work. He continued with recovery work for the next 3 months, when he was reassigned to Fresh Kills, Staten Island, where he sifted through the debris. He and others found personal affects of those killed on that day. He found body parts. He worked there for about 6 months.
Today, the weather is exactly like the day 9 years ago. And as I have since the second anniversary, I headed to the beach. Hey, I grew up on an island after all. The ocean is in my blood. It's where I always headed as a teenager when things were tough in my life and I needed a break. I'd skip school with a friend and we'd hitchhike to Long Beach to hang out. Even if it was in the middle of the winter.
The Town of Hempstead began to organize sunrise memorial service on September 11, and since then I began to make it my first stop to start the day on all these past September 11ths. Today was no different.
I'm not a huge fan of Kate Murray. However, her speech today was tempered and entirely appropriate.
Reveille - the flag goes up.
The flag crests.
Taps - the flag comes down to half-mast.
It was the largest showing since they began having these memorials. At the first, there were probably about 100 people. Today, it looked like it topped 1000. I spoke with one of the participant volunteers, and she said they had only printed up 1200 programs, and these were nearly all given out.
Within our Township, 190 residents were killed on September 11, 2001, including firefighters.
The release of the doves.
White carnations thrown to the ocean.
After everyone finally departed, the seabirds reclaimed the beach.
Today's service was not politicized in anyway. I was grateful for that. But one of the speakers, the mother of a victim who worked for Cantor Fitzgerald, was firm on her belief of religious tolerance and the need to stop the hate. She doesn't want the mosque to be built, however she just asked for it to not be built now, and that now was not yet the time. This was better to hear than the adamant "Never" I've been hearing.
This diary is dedicated to Leslie Gee, one of the many unsung heroes of September 11, 2001.