When we first moved up to Ellington, I kept my job at the book compositor (I was a proofer in those days). I went into the office (a long commute, pretty much to the other end of the state) three days a week, and worked at home on alternate days.
On the morning of September 11, 2001, I woke up early. It was a work-at-home day for me. I liked to get up early on those days and get the work taken care of so that I could do “fun” stuff (like getting the oil changed, unpacking boxes, et cetera) in the afternoons.
Ken had the day off, and woke up with me. I started the coffee. Ken went into the living room and turned on the television.
I came in and sat on the couch next to him. “What the hell are you watching?” I asked. I was thinking, Oh, God, it is way too early for an action flick.
“I think this is the news,” Ken gasped as we watched people leap from the towers.
“Nah,” I said. “Can’t be...” and then the real news people came on.
“Oh my God,” I said, “All of those people...” Tears and panic attacked me at the same time: My brother!
Brother #3, The Professor, lived in The City. He took the subway early each weekday morning to the Trade Center. The Professor stopped there for breakfast before taking another subway to school/work (he was taking classes and teaching classes to help pay for his education). He and I had just met there for breakfast a week or so beforehand.
I tried to call his apartment, but I couldn’t get through. I tried his girlfriend’s phone, but I couldn’t get through. The Professor didn’t believe in cell phones.
I called my mother. I asked her if The Professor had called her. Nope. When she asked, “Why?” I didn’t tell her about his breakfast habit. Mom didn’t know much about his life in The City, and this was the wrong time to start sharing.
“I can’t believe what’s on the television,” she said. “All I can think of is, I am so glad you didn’t get that job. Yoi eesh’-ter-nem, thank God.”
I hadn’t even thought of that. The worst interview I ever had... on the 86th floor. It would have been such a sweet job to snag, too: incredible cash, benefits, the works... and I blew it.
“Well, if The Professor calls you, Mom, can you please tell him to call me?”
When night fell, and we still had not heard from Brother #3, I was convinced he was either trapped or dead. Surely, if he could, The Professor would call to let us know that he was okay... wouldn’t he?
Two weeks. It took him two weeks to get through and let us know that he had stopped to help a lady (one of his neighbours, I think) find her dog that morning and missed his subway. Those were two of the worst weeks I have ever experienced.
My heart goes out to the people who lost loved ones in the attacks. I know quite a few who lost a parent, a child, a wife, a husband, or a friend. I feel for them, deeply. I don’t know what I would have done... and I don’t know what my mother would have done if I had gotten the job on the 86th floor... AND if The Professor hadn’t missed his ride that morning.
Luck runs in our family, I guess.
Comments (22)
Interesting story! I have had many blessings in disguise also. I feel guilty reading this, because I think it took me two weeks or more for me to let my family know I was alive. And even then, it wasn't me who let them know, it was my ex-husband.
I was meditating. In India.
Must be a professor thing?
I'm so glad mom forgave me!
rofl I never saw how that mini works before, it's actually pretty funny isn't it?
Two weeks?!?! That must have been absolutely unbearable. I'm so glad he made it out safely. Still stings my heart knowing how many thousands of people weren't so fortunate.
wow..that is incredible
Oh my, that's crazy. I would have gone crazy not knowing. That was a very scary time then, and I didn't even know anyone in the city. A friend of mine was living in Westchester County and I remember I couldn't get through on the phone to her for a few days after because all the phone lines were busy. And there were no planes overhead, but she was living not far down the river from West Point and sometimes they would see fighter jets go past and just all freak out. I was in school and all we did during my journalism class that morning was watch the news on TV.
I've heard a lot of stories of people saying that they just missed their train that morning or they would have been there. I bet that's the best job you never got.
It was definitely a difficult time here in the northeast. You must have been nearly out of your mind with grief and worry - there were so many blessings amidst that great tragedy. Glad you and your brother were one of them. MUAH.
Two weeks?! D:
you were blessed, my dear!
...Nessa! I am in tears to think you might have been in danger, yes tears. :(
I still cannot think of those days without getting emotional.
So glad your brother was also safe.
You were a smart chiquita to have a horrid interview that day. *hugs her close and then turns away to hide tears*
Two weeks would be beyond bearing. I hope luck keeps running with you
It would be handy to have around.
yes. blessed. lucky. fortunate. any or all of those things.
j.
Luck does run in your family.
This is quite a story. I would say, it was more than luck. I am happy for you and your brother, The Professor.
Wow, that is incredible!
In this case, I'm thankful for lost dogs~
A great story. That morning changed America.
Big Hug.
Wow! Thanks for sharing!
Wow! That is incredibly lucky. I'm very happy for you.
Memories like that cling to our hearts for the rest of our lives. Miracles, little though they be, are always so humbling!