Nine Years On

I was driving to work at ‘Signature Theatre’ in Arlington, just outside Washington, DC. I had taken Erin to school, she was in kindergarten. The station I listened to for the traffic reports WTOP was a talk radio station. They interrupted the regular programming to say that a plane had flown directly into the World Trade Centre. A few minutes later they reported that another had flown into the second tower. I was driving on ‘I 395’ and talking to myself out loud, “Would the next one be the Capitol Building, the White House or the Pentagon?” As though reading my mind the reporter came on and said a third plane had flown into the Pentagon. As I drove along 395, I saw the plume of smoke ahead and the police already turning the traffic back. I circled the off ramp and began my journey back to where we lived.

I could not reach my wife who was at work. The lines were absolutely blocked with calls. She was far enough from DC not to worry though and I headed off to pick up Erin.

I spent the rest of the day watching as America was brought to its knees. Like everyone said, “How could this happen on American soil?”

After I knew my family were safe I frantically spent the remainder of the day calling and emailing the fourteen people whom I had spent the previous several years with and who I had come to care about deeply. They were all in the theatre industry and many were living in New York. Krista Brown, Monica Dixon, Dan Galperin, Dave Simpson and the others who I had shared two intense years of my life with at the National Conservatory Of Dramatic Arts. By the end of the day I had located all but one person who I knew lived in New York City. I was deeply concerned and I remember at some point I must have called everyone I knew who knew this person. Finally three days later I called ‘Buck's cell phone and I got him. He was on a bus coming back from ‘Atlanta Georgia’ from a sales meeting. He had missed the whole thing.

I know that thousands of people made similar phone calls that day and thousands of them did not receive the joy that I received of knowing that my friends were alive and well. The country was swept with fear then sadness and quickly with anger. Many people wanted to retaliate with force and others wanted to understand what it was that would make people want to do such an act.

One of the most unnerving things I saw was a stream of traffic, mostly SUV's, laden with supplies heading for the mountains. People simply wanted to flee to safety with their families. When the dust had settled and we all took stock of the situation, the general agreement was that the country had lost something as a whole, an innocence, a trust and a carefree attitude that is so indigenous to the American psyche. For years after I could not go anywhere without a full tank of gas and spare battery for my cell phone. I felt I always wanted to know where my family and friends were. In conversations with people who had been involved or had been there, many would inevitably cry and many more could not talk about it at all.

On this ninth year anniversary I fear we are still only just getting beyond the event, maybe we never will. I hope though that we can learn to trust again. Many people I spoke to in the years that followed said that they and their partners made love more in the days that followed. It was as though we needed to feel safe and alive. As though out of fear we did not want to miss the opportunity to be close to those we loved. For three glorious day after I experienced a phenomenon in Washing DC. People being kind to one and other, going out of their way to be kind in fact. It is sad to think that after those glorious three days anger and fear gripped the country and we began to take it out on one and other.

Live Passionately, Ask Why!