My 9/11 Story all in one place[W:37]*********

[Chris S]

*My 9/11

It was 8:45 a.m. on a beautiful cloudless day and I was commuting as usual, by this time on the Brooklyn Bridge in my car, waiting in traffic. The first plane hit and I looked up to see the devastation. My first reaction was to cry..... not quietly.... I bawled as I sat alone in my car. All I could think about was those poor people and how hurt and frightened they must be now, and how much I wanted to take away their hurt and comfort them.

My job in the courts is just two blocks north of the bridge so I got to my job as fast as I could, parked, and immediately went up to administration to ask if I could lend a hand. I was told to stay put until more was known, so I went back down and got my usual two large cups of coffee (coffee and cigarettes - the breakfast of champions). By the time I arrived back at my office the second plane had hit. I was no sooner at my desk than the fire alarm sounded. I’m the supervisor in an office with over twenty people and am responsible for them so I just told them “get your stuff and get out NOW!’. I stayed until they all had gone, and followed them then outside. Turns out the alarm was the building’s way of evacuation. No one knew what to do once we got outside. Most started walking uptown. I went to my car, stowed my cigs inside (a thing which still amazes me) and I, in my blue summer dress and white pump shoes, sunglasses and shield went to the Twin Towers.

My route brought me to right in front of St. Paul’s Church on the corner of Broadway and Fulton** Street, just one block from the north tower of the World Trade Center. I rounded the corner and began the short walk down the street and halfway there the most amazing thing happened. I felt a hand push me back on my left shoulder, but there was no one there. I spun around and took a few steps towards the direction I had come from, then thought “what am I doing?” and spun around again, heading back for the site. Again I felt like I was pushed back and again, I circled. It was the weirdest thing. I remembered then passing a NYPD mobile command center that had been hastily set up on the corner of Broadway and Park Row, a short distance from where I was. I doubled back, figuring the best thing to do was go there and ask where I was needed. It made sense at the time. With no one to tell me where to go or what to do it was up to me. A thing which could work either for, or against me, and I knew it.

 

[Chris S]

Re: My 9/11 Story all in one place

Once at the NYPD command center I showed my identification and stated that I had come from the courts looking to help. I was then positioned back in front of St. Paul’s and told to aid in the evacuation of persons from the Trade Center site and that was where I went, and stayed.

On my corner was an FBI officer, two NYPD officers and me, a NY State officer by virtue of being a Senior Court Clerk in Manhattan Family Court. I took up position on the northwest corner, keeping people from walking directly in front of the church, and instead having them go across Broadway to a building which happened to have a substantial overhang over the sidewalk, supported by a series of large columns. The first floor inside the overhang had the croissant shop Au Bon Pain and a bank. I don’t recall if any other store was there.

As people were being shown the way by our mixed group of officers one of New York’s Finest leaned to me and said “They just got the Pentagon”. Inside I shivered, but outside I just nodded my head, sure that this now was total war, and in my head I simply prepared for the worst. I hadn’t a clue with whom we were at war with. I thought of prophecies of Armageddon from the Bible and of the predictions of psychics, who predicted New York would fall into the sea from some cataclysmic event, and I figured this was it.

Then I heard the loudest silence I ever heard. I looked down Broadway and coming rolling up toward me was the biggest blackest cloud of death I had ever seen in my life. Things were swirling in it, around it, through it. I thought to myself “Here comes death and this is what it looks like”. I looked down Fulton, and death was rolling up it as well, like a demonic wave of doom, focused on two approaching sides upon our corner. The cloud was several stories high. I started to yell to the civilians on the street, but couldn’t hear my own voice. That surprised me, for my yells can be very loud, and here it was as if nothing. I began to jump up and down, pointing with two flailing arms, motioning to the hundreds of people coming up Fulton and down Broadway to run. I was yelling for them to run under the building’s overhang.... it honestly didn’t occur to me to send them INTO the building. Over and over I screamed “Get under the building!!” I decided I would stay on my doomed corner until either wave of death hit, and then I would duck behind a police van which happened to be parked on the northeast corner nearby. I remember screaming so loud I was hurting my throat, pointing, jumping, terrified folks running past me as fast as they could. I remember a cameraman there and I’ve seen his footage on the news. You never do hear my voice, or see me, except when the cloud hit you can see a pair of white pumps under a police van’s bumper.

(Recently, a second video from that corner surfaced and I could hear myself screaming, but it just sounded like a crazy person, and you couldn't tell I was actually speaking words.)

Then, the cloud hit us hard.

When the cloud hit, most of the people had not only made it under the overhang, but had run into the bank nearby. I’m glad I was able to steer them to a safe place at least.......


The swirling black cloud descended lethally upon us with a monsoon of debris and the blackest black I’ve ever seen. Even a moonless night offered no comparison, nor did an unlit room at night. The total darkness was impenetrable. I put my hand in front of my face and I could see nothing. I figured then a nuclear weapon had been detonated on the south end of Manhattan.. No one ever said or suggested the towers might fall and it wasn’t even a consideration. Everyone was thinking we were nuked.

Sharing that police van’s bumper with me was one of the few civilians left outside, and the cops were still on the corner as well. I don’t know what happened to the FBI officer. One of the cops was yelling direction to all who were still outside. “Breathe through your clothes, BREATHE THROUGH YOUR CLOTHES” he would say over and over again. I tried it both ways and breathing either way pretty much sucked. My lungs were so incredibly filled with crap it seemed impossible to breathe normally and it was all I could do to set up a rhythm. Fight for air and breathe, breathe, spit debris out.. breathe, breathe, spit..... on and on, over and over, and I had to fight for each and every one. I was still wearing my sunglasses and because of that my eyes were spared from most of the debris kicking around. I kept opening them to check out the intensity of the darkness.... but it stayed black and absolute for quite a while, the only sound the cop coaching our breathing... and how he managed to breathe and still yell to us I’ll never know.

 

[Chris S]

Re: My 9/11 Story all in one place

Then there was a new sound, in the back ground, beeps repeating over and over again. I learned later on from a news show that those beeps were from the firemen rendered immobile. The beeps were a personal alarm system each man wore to notify others of his location and the fact that he was immobile for period of time as immobility triggers the alarm. The rest of it sounded like it does on a winters night after a huge snow, where there’s so much silence.


Again and again I opened my eyes to test and finally...... FINALLY..... I could begin to see... just a little bit.... I think I hooted, and told the man next to me in between spits that it just couldn’t be nuclear.. One we still had skin and two... we could see.......... and nuclear night is supposed to last for six months.

Thinking back on it that seems kinda silly, but it’s an honest accounting of my thought processes at that time.

Slowly, very slowly, daytime returned and ashen figures began their rise up from the blizzard of dust and debris. I stood and asked the man next to me if he was alright. I think I surprised him and he looked at me, a fellow ash figure. He said he was okay, then asked how I was. I answered that I was okay. That I’m always okay. There was wreckage and parts of things everywhere, and we were smothered in it. Somehow of the ten or so people left outside on my corner no one had died. I made my way into the Au Bon Pain where the clerks were tossing bottles of water to me and the others there.

One man was sitting, having quite the nervous breakdown, and seeing that just ripped at my heart. He was crying sobs of despair and I crouched down, trying to comfort him, but it was like talking to a deaf zombie. I tried to reassure him, and kept repeating, “It’s okay, you’re alive...... you’re alive”. I hugged him then, sure of the work to do elsewhere, and went outside with my water. I was so angry as I emerged back onto the street that I remember looking up to the sky and yelling “Is that the best you got!!!!”. Again, it makes no sense now, but I’m being honest. I came across a lady staggering around and gave her my water, sending her into the store for more. Cops and firemen were making their way up Fulton Street, stumbling, dragging themselves looking like they’d all just gotten beat up in some giant ashtray. I directed them too into that Au Bon Pain for water to both drink, and clean out their nose, mouths and eyes of that damnable ash.

It was then I took a moment to look around, taking in the devastation of MY CITY. I couldn’t believe that someone would have the balls and the utter audacity to try and hurt MY PEOPLE. Were there a terrorist around near me then, I surely would have snapped his neck with my own bare hands. I was completely in a sense of fury, a fury which surely saved me from the fright and hopelessness others around me seemed to be succumbing to. I, however, was in full red face rage, and that rage continued for days. I don’t know why that was, it just was.


Shortly after, I came across a cop and a woman stumbling their way up the street. At that point I was on the next corner, still spinning circles, looking for folks to help. The woman was bent over when I went over to her, and the cop left her to me and then he himself, weakly staggered away. I asked her if she was okay and she said she didn’t know.... she lost her pocketbook and her boss. Later I learned her boss had recently been undergoing chemo treatments and was very weak. They had made their way down the stairs of the north tower where they worked on the 69th Floor for the Port Authority.

 

[Chris S]

Re: My 9/11 Story all in one place

They had stopped to rest on the plaza of the north tower to rest, as the woman with chemo was tired and couldn’t go on. It was then that the south tower had fallen on them. She was bleeding but not too terribly. She looked shocky and was definitely hysterical, incapable of making rational decision. She was limping too, but because of nature’s survival instinct we all have, wasn’t succumbing to her injuries just yet. I remember wanting to go into the surviving tower then to help more people get out but I didn’t know what to do with this injured person, who was clearly incapable of caring for herself. She wasn’t injured enough to be spared a long wait at the nearby hospital where certainly worse injuries would rule the day.

Little did I know at the time that for the most part there weren’t many......... you were either slightly injured or you were dead. I couldn’t send her home alone as she had lost her pocketbook and her money, and I didn’t have any money on me to give her. I didn’t know what to do with her. I kept looking back at the one still standing tower and realized I could not go there and leave this woman to fend for herself. Reluctantly I began to walk with her north to my own building, and silently cursed her numerous times for making me have to go. I knew that back at the World Trade Center, there was a lot of rescuing to do.

It couldn’t have been more than two minutes later that we passed to City Hall on the far east..... the beginning of Centre** Street..... and I heard the second tower fall, the one we had been so very near only moments ago. Had we stayed another minute, we would have been fully caught and covered in that collapse too. Diane, my victim, asked what that noise was, and not wanting to alarm her further (as she was very hysterical) I told her it was nothing. We returned to my courthouse and I saw my deputy chief clerk outside on the steps, and I walked to her, covered in ash and smiled, adding “I made it”. One of my friends, Sergeant Doreen Walsh took Diane into the bathroom and tried to clean her wounds best she could. Doreen’s a nurse and it seemed a logical thing to do. During this I just paced back and forth, like a tiger in a cage, still furious. I wouldn’t let anyone touch me or help me.


Once Diane had cleaned up some I took her to my car and we began to make our way up Manhattan. I had to comfort her the entire way. The streets looked weird, with cars pulled over in droves, their trunks up so the radio could better be heard by the throngs of people that surrounded each one.

At some point an old man in a suit banged on my window begging for a ride uptown. I just couldn’t tell him no, and so gave Joe a ride to 79th Street. Traffic was absolutely hideous and it took hours. I remember stopping at one point to use a bathroom, and Diane and I, still loaded in ash, walked into a restaurant/bar to use the bathroom. After staring at us like we were aliens they offered us drinks and we used the bathroom, drank some water and then continued on our way.

Diane lived in New Jersey and the George Washington Bridge and the tunnels, the normal way of getting there, were closed. Fighter jets were flying close to ground as we slowly made our way up the west side of the Bronx. I was hoping the Tappan Zee Bridge was open, and I figured if I kept heading north, I’d find some way of crossing the Hudson River so I could get to Jersey. On the way we stopped at my aunt’s house in Riverdale, the Bronx, to again use the bathrooms. I felt rather like Snake Plimpkin in “Escape From New York”. All the while I took precautions as if enemy soldiers might drop down upon us from the sky at any moment.

 

[Chris S]

Re: My 9/11 Story all in one place

After 8 hours or so of traveling I delivered Diane to her hysterical family and they clawed at me, hugging and thanking me. I sort of rushed the goodbye and I was uncomfortable with the gushing sentiment. I was glad to deliver Diane finally, and I figured she would get good and immediate care at the local Fort Lee hospital, being one of the few, if not only, World Trade Center victim there.

I left her and her family and drove south through Jersey. I tried to cross to Staten Island over the Goethals Bridge, showing my shield, but they wouldn’t let me through. I then drove further south to the Outerbridge Crossing, convincing a cop with my shield and my ash to let me go home, the only thing I wanted to do at the time. Of course being a horse person I first stopped at my barn to check on my horse, and my buddy Megan, the barn manager, convinced me to shower in her house so that my father wouldn’t have to see me looking like “she who was run over”. After 8:30 that night, I was finally home.


After Armegeddon

At the time of 9/11 I was working half time in the courts, one week on and one week off. I had been full time for years, but then took a year off for a medical leave of absence. I had been through an abusive marriage and a worse divorce and had been stalked by my exhusband. Among other things he would break into my house when I’d go to work and steal my things or destroy them. He’d play my answering machine and call and harass those who left messages. It came to be that whenever I’d have to leave to go to work, I’d suffer panic attacks, knowing I’d be leaving my home vulnerable. It led to a depression where I secluded myself from the world for one year, not working, choosing instead to guard my home. I wasn’t scared of him physically, he couldn’t hurt me as I fight back way too much for any coward of a man to deal with. Afterwards, I returned to work half time working one week on and one week off. I did that for a year and a half. I decided to go back full time when I got my new horse. I wanted to show Knight and that just wasn’t possible without working full time. New truck, equipment, fixing the trailer and whatever else was needed costs a lot of money as you all know. My final week off would have been the week after September 11, 2001. After that it was back to full time, beginning with September 24th.

Manhattan was basically shut down after the attacks. Bridges, tunnels, many buildings were closed to the public. For those in law enforcement and emergency services one could, with proper identification, get around quite nicely.

As I mentioned earlier I am a state officer and as such have a gold shield. It is identical to the shields of detectives, just like court officer shields are identical to those issued to police.

 

[Chris S]

Re: My 9/11 Story all in one place

When I finally got home the night of the 11th, I, along with the rest of the world watched the images shown on TV. Like all of us, I was profoundly upset by what happened and wanted to do something more. I remembered watching news footage of the California earthquake and how very badly I wanted to go out there then to help. This time, the disaster was at my front door and this time, I had by virtue of a shield, the means to get there. As such, there was no force on earth that would have kept me from going back. The night of the 11th I slept as much as I could knowing the next day, I was going back.


I woke up late. I’m horrible in the morning and much more clever at night so I planned to work the hours I’m at my best. I had heard from the news that the Staten Island Ferry was running emergency workers back and forth so around noon, I dressed the best I could in sneakers, navy blue sweats and a navy blue polo shirt with my shield emblem embroidered on the left pocket. Since I don’t wear a uniform at work, it was the best I could think of to do.

I grabbed a windbreaker with the court logo and my shield number on it and packed some stuff I might need in its pockets then drove across the island. I found parking by Staten Island’s brand spanking new minor league ball park, Yankee Stadium and I joined the cops and firemen boarding the Manhattan bound ferry. No one smiled. Everyone just stared to Manhattan and the plume of smoke rising from it, cradling it. The air stunk like sh*t. I will never forget the smell..... we ended up smelling it for months.

On the Manhattan side I joined up with a small truck makeshifted into an emergency Red Cross vehicle. The back was loaded with Gatorade, an odd sight in a landscaper’s truck. I hitched a ride on the back with the Gatorade and slowly we zigged and zagged our way up to the World Trade Center. Debris was everywhere and Manhattan was covered in gray dust. It was simply everywhere downtown. I had neither hard hat or ventilator, so I was going in al-natural. Eventually our truck stopped on Church Street, on the corner of Liberty Street where just a day earlier a Burger King was doing a thriving business. At that moment, the Burger King was a makeshift morgue. The morgue, it would seem later on, changed locations at least once a day.

I jumped off the back of the truck with as much Gatorade as I could carry and made my way into the “pile”. The first thing I saw, with my first steps there, arms laden with cases of drink, was a dusty fireman, walking out holding a regular household mop bucket in his right hand. I looked into the bucket for a moment. In it was a dusty severed head.

 

[Chris S]

Re: My 9/11 Story all in one place

I thought to myself I was certainly in deep doo doo now, so I took a long breath, gathered myself, cleared my throat and announced “Gatorade!” to the folks working. I made my way through the crowd of workers, climbing over mountains of debris, trying not to get in anyone’s way, trying not to trip. The pulvarized cement was drenched in many places by water used to put out fires. There were dozens of fires. Here, there, everywhere. Anyone working near was filthy, caked in ashen mud cement. I came across a section where some men were working on a beam about 15 feet off what one might describe as the ground. Not sure if it was, or simply the top of a debris pile. It was hard to tell what was what even though I was quite familiar with the area. In 1988, I had worked on the 105th floor of Tower 2, the south tower, the tower now at my feet, for a year. Had I still worked there, I’d be dead.

A fireman called to me for a bunch of Gatorades. (I refer to this part as “the unfortunate Gatorade incident”) I began to toss them up to him, one by one, very carefully, as he was balancing himself on what used to be a support beam. I didn’t want him to have to reach to catch any of the drinks, fearing he might fall. I was doing well until about the 7th one. Then I had a ‘female’ moment and my arm spazzed and the Gatorade flew off in a not so good direction. I screamed out “Heads Up!!!” to a group of men (thankfully all in hard hats) who seemed to be under it’s flight path. It came crashing down in between them, skimming one guy’s hard hat. I felt so stupid. I wanted to die of embarrassment right then and there.I thought maybe I didn’t belong here after all. As quick as I could I got rid of the remaining drinks and decided to blend into a line. It was a rubble line and I ended up (by virtue of drink giving out) near the front, about the 3rd or 4th from the hole man on this bucket brigade.

Each line of a bucket brigade had a fireman in the front spot, digging. He would pick up debris and pass it along, down the thirty to forty man line. When something would come out hot, sometimes red hot, everyone would yell “HOT HOT: and only those with special heat resistant gloves would touch it. You’d think there would be big pieces. There wasn’t. The largest piece of concrete we came across was about a foot across. There were no desks. There were no computers. There were odd and end parts of them, mostly the metal backs of cpu’s. There were shoes. In the first ten minutes I was passed a man’s black dress shoe. I shivered as I touched it to pass it down the line. I wondered of the fate of it’s owner. Every so often you’d hear a call for “Dog!! Dog!!”. With that the lines and everyone around would go absolutely silent. A dog would come in with it’s handler to sniff. Not a sound could be heard. Everything stopped. Sometimes parts were found. In the days I spend at the pile I saw many body bags filled. I never saw a whole body, and no body bag was ever filled to a size more than two feet.


Then all of a sudden something happened.... One minute I’m standing on the line, passing things down and the next second everyone is running. I sort of just stood there, dumbfounded. Since I was near the perimeter of the site on the south side all I could see coming at me were hundreds, if not thousands, of rescue workers running straight towards me at full throttle. Men were yelling “RUN!!!! RUN!!!” and I turned, running, not having a clue on earth why. I ran for a block and then slowed to stop. I turned around and the mob was still behind me yelling. I took off again, and kept on running. I ran down a side street and before long was in front of the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel. Finally, folks came to a stop, bent over, lungs screaming for breath. I asked what the hell had just happened and in between heavy breaths a cop told me that when a collapse is imminent an alarm whistle sounds and at that point everyone was to evacuate the area IMMEDIATELY.

I wish someone would have told me that.

Eventually someone, somewhere knew or decided it was all clear and everyone went back to their respective piles or bucket brigades. Throughout that day I’d run about another 7 times or so. After the first run, I had noticed a lonely bulldozer parked by the entrance of the tunnel, facing it, the bucket down. It was maybe fifty feet from the tunnel. I decided to make that bucket my safe place, my escape place. In case of a collapse I’d run there and dive into the bucket. Me and that bucket were soon old friends.

 

[Chris S]

Re: My 9/11 Story all in one place

Running like that all the time was a real bitch. For one, you couldn’t breathe and the full tilt sprint to safety was hard. Any slip up and you were a goner. There would be a thousand people trampling you to get away. I did have a few advantages.... one, I’m a fast runner and was a sprinter on the track team and two, I was wearing sneakers. They were a lot easier to run in than heavy boots or construction boots. That one fact, sneakers.... saved me again and again. Who’d figure?


Over and over we’d dig, run, return, dig some more. At one point I looked down and at my feet was a Raggedy Ann type doll. Not the actual thing mind you, but a close copy. I thought of picking it up and taking it. Then, a nanno second later I realized it was sacred and so, I never touched it. Weeks later I saw that doll again. It was on the cover of the October 3rd New York Post. It was a doll from a nursery center that had been in the World Trade Center, the nursery having been donated or supported by Princess Fergie of Great Britain. Someone had found the doll, and recognized it for what it was and given it back to Fergie and there she was in the paper, holding it up, showing it to the world. I saved the cover of that newspaper and still have it, a very eery reminder of that day.

I worked 18 hours that day, returning home the next day. I slept a few hours, woke up, watched the news and was compelled to return again. This time I hitched a ride up in a cop car from the ferry and ended up somehow unloading a supply truck, again parked by the Burger King morgue, which was no longer a morgue, but now a rescue worker comfort station full of medical assistance and food. The morgue was now at 120** Liberty Street on the adjacent block. I was handling multipacks of paper towels for the comfort station and had one huge pack in each hand (12 rolls in each) and just then a run alarm sounded. WTC 7 (or was it 5) was collapsing. I took off in full run, one of the ten front people in front of a fleeing mob of rescuers, paper towels still in my hands. They slowed me down too much and I felt someone’s hand on my back pushing me to go faster. I didn’t want to drop the paper towels down, knowing someone would get hurt on them. I made my way near the street and some parked vehicles and with all my might flung those paper towels as far as I could. I turned back forward and kicked into gear another notch, now free of the towels. Then, in front of me was a metal barricade, about three and a half feet high. I have no idea what moron would put up such a thing but I gathered myself best I could and jumped that barricade as if life itself depended on it. I suppose it did. A fire lieutenant and another guy (in construction boots) couldn’t clear it and hit it dead on. They both fell. As I ran I turned to see them hitting the ground. Then the mob simply ran over them. Because this was an actual collapse we ended up running all the way to Battery Park.... first I made my way to the tunnel, but we were hoisted up from tunnels mouth to street level to continue our way to the park. When I could finally rest I came to see one of the men who had fallen. His eyes were glassy and glazed and he was wandering aimlessly. He was staring at his hand.

Having worked with animals I’ve learned to see shock in the eyes. When I looked to his I saw it there too. He had footprints in mud cement on his back. He was bleeding and his hand was starting to swell. I recognized him from my ferry trip and so knew he was from Staten Island too. I end up taking him back over the ferry and into an ambulance to the hospital. Besides the shock he’d broken his hand and cut his knee quite bad. After he as done and going home, I went back to zero.

Those two days I worked thirty six hours.

 

[Chris S]

Re: My 9/11 Story all in one place

Tidbits and Terror

As days passed at Zero, certain things began to meld into one weeklong day. I’ll try and describe what I remember the best I can.

Communication...... it was.......... not so good. Starting that Thursday, the 13th of September, I would hear folks from both the FDNY and NYPD talking about the Feds coming in, FEMA to be exact. There were rumours that FEMA was going to take everyone off the pile and put in their own people. From that day, both the FDNY and NYPD swore they’d have to be killed and dragged off the pile to leave. The rest of the world didn’t hear about that in the news till weeks later. Just to let y’all know, that was brewing for a long, long time. The firemen and cops told me that FEMA wasn’t planning on continuing to look for remains. They just wanted to bulldoze the place clean. They wanted that quick clean up to show the world how fast we could rebuild. When the FDNY and NYPD had their eventual confrontation it was not the rank and file police officers the FDNY was mad at, it was what they called the “white shirts”, the brass of the NYPD that they felt sold out to the Feds. The terrorist attack not only unified our country, it also somewhat unified these two agencies who for years before used to be far more competitive with one another. They did sometimes clash at emergency scenes but in this case, they worked together as I had not seen before.

Several phenomenon occurred at Ground Zero. One of them which I found very endearing was the writing and messages left around. There was so much dust everywhere, it made a perfect temporary writing template for all the rescuers to display their thoughts. There were messages everywhere. I remember taking a cigarette break next to 120** Liberty Street which is known as the Merrill Lynch building. The morgue had been moved there for a short while as evidenced by the plywood sign with the word “Morgue” not so neatly spray painted on in a reddish pink color. The morgue had been moved there for a short while and lots of messages where written on the marble walls which surrounded the building. All sorts of little pleasantries directed to Osama and Co. The Burger King which was once the morgue now served meals to the workers.

Americans can get quite creative when they are compelled to do so.



My reading was cut short by a run alarm. It was a long run, all the way into Battery Park. I hated those runs. Afterwards I was told that run alarm was because 120 Liberty was shifting and threatening to collapse. Figures.... the building I was standing under was the one threatening to collapse. That seemed to be a recurring issue. Buildings threatening to fall on me. It never did fall, but it wasn’t until the summer of 2002 that I’d actually walk anywhere near that damn building again. I hated that building. Anytime I went near it, an alarm would sound with it’s impending collapse. I was sure I was cursed.

Workers at Ground Zero developed an actual ‘fashion’. As odd as it might seem, there came to pass a certain outfit, especially once the construction workers started pouring in. Work boots, hard hats, gloves, respirators, jeans. The hard hats bore written messages and flags. To see it seemed strange, but one look at a person and you’d know exactly where they’d been working.


Everyone has heard about the firefighters, police men and women and the Port Authority officers who were killed or injured on 9/11. What not so many people have heard is that other officers were involved as well and were no less heroes. On one day of my digging I remember being in a bucket brigade near the south perimeter of the site. About 50 feet further in from me was a taller rubble pile of debris shaped like a sharply inclined hill of metal. Along the top of that rubble hill was a line of court officers, both male and female from Manhattan Supreme Court. They were so very brave up there up on the top of that unstable mound like that. I watched them a moment in silent awe of them, quite admiring their bravery, working together like a machine, digging frantically for their fallen brothers. On 9/11 three of our fallen brothers were killed in the line of duty, but you never hear about them. Captain William Thompson, Supreme Court Officer Mitchell Wallace and Supreme Court Officer Thomas Jurgens all perished along with one FBI officer and of course so many of the cops and firemen. But this day there was a fireman as the hole man, at the beginning of the line, laying down on his stomach along the scattering of steel debris, scooping and picking carefully through, passing material then back through the line to the court officers, all of them digging like animals, focused on their task. I wanted to go and join them being from the courts too, but something kept holding me back.

 

[Chris S]

Re: My 9/11 Story all in one place

The debris pile seemed so unsteady and unpredictable. I felt the same kinda thing that held me back from entering the tower the day or two before. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was some unknown force telling me not to go, that it wasn’t safe.

All of a sudden there was screaming, the fireman at the hole disappearing as a plume of flame shot up from where he used to be. Court officers scattered and the alarm rang and once again we all ran our asses off. Someone must have stayed behind though, perhaps firemen, for by the time we returned, they had rescued the fireman swallowed up so suddenly in the impromptu volcano. I remember we ran far then too.

I also remember swinging down an empty street to run, a thing far preferred than running with a crowd. Picture if you will this ash covered insane looking blonde running down the street, suddenly seeing something shiny on the floor. It was a shield, and upon a moments pausing I saw it was a court officers shield. I stopped, scooped it up and tucked it away calmly then immediately began the insane run for safety once again. I probably stopped as I know that a lost shield can lead to loss of pay and vacation for the first infraction, termination of employment with the second. I ended up meeting the court officers in Battery Park and gave the shield to their commander. I don’t know whose it was. One of the male court officers was spinning around, quite freaked out, losing it. I tried to calm him but he appeared on the verge of breakdown. I think he kept from breakdown though because no one else, especially the females, were showing signs of losing it. Peer pressure of a sort.

By the time Friday the 14th of September came I couldn’t breathe anymore. Deep breaths hurt and caused a string of coughing. My body was exhausted. Luckily I was in semi decent shape, thanks to the trials and tribulations of riding my 6 year old, off the track, Thoroughbred. Pushing him forward and balancing him was at that time, in itself, a workout. Now though, even that didn’t help and I sadly had to admit that if I couldn’t breathe then I couldn’t run, and if I couldn’t run I had no business being back on the pile. I could get someone very hurt if I pooped out during one of those run alarms. It was a hard choice to make but instead of taking that ferry ride over to the pile, I instead went to the relief center and volunteered my services there.

The Staten Island Relief Center was a sudden birth of dedicated local residents and a politician or two who were determined to rise to the challenge 9/11 presented. They acquired use of the AAA minor ballpark of the Yankees for their use. And that stadium was brand spankin’ new. The ticket office became the ‘command center’, the refreshment booth was now a full service kitchen, supply room a medical supply center. People from all over the island, some who were friends, some who never met each other before, joined as one, and so, could make a difference.


However, on that Friday it was an unorganized mess. Local residents began a steady stream of drop offs and things began to become piled haphazardly. It simply wouldn’t do. People began to wander in and out. Those of lesser moral standard were caught removing things others had donated. The folks got together and together, set up “procedure”.

“Shields” would be in charge of supplies and other things of a Ground Zero nature. The group of women would keep track of volunteers, solicit needed donations and staff communications from the ticket office ‘command center’. They were even able to utilize the ticket offices computers. “Shields” were the law enforcement, some retired, who were present there that day and I was considered one of them. While other shields made their way to work on the pile, I stayed back and decided it was time for some housecleaning. That much I could certainly do, even with my breathing.

 

[Chris S]

Re: My 9/11 Story all in one place

The first thing was to separate the ‘used’ clothing donations from the new stuff. All the used stuff was piled out back and later donated to local shelters and outreach programs. The new stuff was separated and categorized. There was a pile for sweatshirts and pants, socks, personal hygiene items, boots, gloves, flashlights and batteries, foodstuff, T shirts, miscellaneous equipment, dog stuff. Donators started bringing up bags and bags of stuff and we’d go through it and organize it as staffing allowed.

I can’t tell you how many people would go to the malls and stores shopping, and then deliver tons of new clothing they’d just purchased. We had literally an army of volunteers—many of them teenagers— all begging to help. I remembered I often assigned teenage boys to assembling batteries into the hundreds of flashlights we got, making sure they worked. Ground Zero didn’t need the garbage of battery and flashlight wrappings and the workers certainly didn’t need to have to install them. The teens seemed to enjoy it, forming flashlight circles and talking while they worked. None of us could believe just how many of the flashlights didn’t work, even brand new.

A retired cop by the name of Walter became head chef. Walter had been in Vietnam and the NYPD... he was a little crazed but he worked his butt of cooking. He’d make trays and trays of food to be delivered to Ground Zero, specializing in Italian. He also served men and women returning by ferry from Zero, setting up a little “Cafe Walter” in the walkway of the stadium. Countless workers were fed by him and his staff.



The next group of volunteers we got were the nurses. They were getting medical supplies donated from medical sources and I was getting medical supplies donated from the public. It didn’t make sense to have duplicative stocking, so I made sure to give them any medical supply I received, and they any personal huygiene stuff they received. The nurses too worked their butts off, reminding me of a staff of M*A*S*H nurses in action. When a call came from Zero for a need for nurses, they’d volunteer to go over, knowing it would be hard to know when they would be able to come back. It was among my duties to ship them there and make sure they arrived where they were supposed to. They also treated the injuries our volunteers and folks coming back over on the ferry would have. Most prevalant was eye discomfort and it became necessary to move eye wash from my section of personal hygiene to their section of medical supply as they needed so much of it.

The girls in the office, especially one of the organizers Lisa, did a bang up job communicating to the community and the media. Having been at Zero from the beginning I told her stuff that I knew was needed and in short supply there. She’d get into contact with NY 1 News on cable TV and then they’d broadcast the need, and the public and local business would soon be at our gates, dropping the stuff off. I remember going home one night and turning on the TV and then seeing the items I’d requested being read by the newsman. That made me smile.

The number one needed item were respirators. No one but the FDNY had them. We quickly ended up with thousand of those little coffee filter type masks but they were in effect, useless. We needed the good ones. Heavy duty and heat resistant gloves were another item I requested. Buckets too were needed, as were shovels. Work boots and socks also moved fast. It luckily didn’t rain for awhile and that made everyone’s job easier. When it did, we had to rearrange the supplies so as not to get wet.

That Friday though was a clear day, and it was later that day that President Bush declared a moment of simultaneous prayer. I think that was scheduled for about 6:30-7 pm. Everyone was to light candles then.

 

[Chris S]

Re: My 9/11 Story all in one place

That evening, I was the shield in charge so many of the center’s issues were directed to me. It was brought to my attention that we had no candles for the fifty or so volunteers present. I looked over at the box of flashlights the teens had so well prepared. I looked at the people there and they seemed to NEED a candle light ceremony. So I did this... I gave everyone of them a flashlight and had them form a huge U S A with their bodies, holding lit flashlights up to the air. This way, I told them the F-16's buzzing by us would see our lights and be inspired. They bought it. It wasn’t even dark yet but I guess they needed to believe even this would help. With our flashlight lit, I lead them in saying the Pledge of Allegiance (complete with the under God part). I yelled the pledge.... so did they..... it was almost a battle cry.... as we all stood there staring at our still smoking city, on the Staten Island shore front, right across the water from it. Wow.

Later that night it was necessary to set up a new procedure for the receiving of bags of donations from the public. While going through one, I discovered a syringe with an uncovered needle filled with a clear liquid. Luckily it didn’t stick me as I used a court officer procedure for going through the bag out of habit. I stopped everyone right then and there and told them that from now on the owner of the bag was to wait until the bag could be dumped upon a table, and we’d go through it all, item by item with them. We put the syringe in a large bottle to illustrate to everyone why. I was told the syringe did make it to the police, but I never knew what was found to be in it. The next day as I arrived at the relief center I was approached and told to be careful going through the bags. I smiled, confident all were following the new protocol.

I worked at the relief center from that Friday for the next 8 days, excluding Sunday. Sunday I saved for me and my horse whom I was missing terribly. I knew I would be returning to the courthouse on Monday, the 24th.

During this time I continually updated supplies and what was needed at Ground Zero. From my continual trips into the city, I was able accommodate the changing requests. On one occasion an officer from the local precinct approached me, telling me that a squad from that precinct, the 120th in Staten Island, would be going over the next day. He asked me what the guys would be needing and I told him, adding that I would make it my sworn duty to outfit that squad with the proper respirators. Once again the call went out from Lisa and later that night we were able to provide a respirator for every cop going over, courtesy of a Lowes store in New Jersey, just built and stocked, which had not yet even opened their doors to the public. That Lowes gave us every respirator they had.


We continued to provide the best we could, running into many problems doing it. First of all, the command and first aid stations changed constantly, as did the morgue. Yesterday’s morgue was todays cafe. It was all quite bizarre really. I ended up making a lot of trips to the city as we’d get a street address to head to and I was one of the only ones at the center who was intimately familiar with every street in downtown Manhattan, by virtue of having paid for my first horse as a messenger for a Wall Street firm. Even then, we often had trouble finding our way..... either a street would be blocked by piles of debris, like steel stories high, or a street would be fenced off or any other possibility for that day. You just never knew what you’d run into.

One night, very late, near midnite, we had gone over to deliver a bunch of trays of Walter’s food. We made the trip by ferry, in golf carts donated by local golf courses, each cart carrying a huge load carefully tied into place. We had huge jugs of ice tea with us, and some coffee, so we rather looked like pack mules making our way around. We had been instructed at our home base to go to the firehouse next to Tower 2. I remember I was with retired NYPD Sargeant Dave B, Lisa’s husband, and together we walked into the wrecked firehouse with our trays. On the way in I reminded Dave that buildings seemed to like to fall on me. He laughed and said “Don’t be silly”. At that very second all the power in that area failed and we found ourselves, in the firehouse, holding our trays in complete darkness. I could only turn to him and say “See?”. It must have been interesting watching us vamoose lickity split out of there!!!

That week found us going through certain items like water..... basically because OF water. Construction boots and socks were a hot item as many of the men and women were now working in puddles.... a result of constant firehosing to douse the hard to kill fires. Those fires burned for months and lower Manhattan stunk for months.

It’s a smell I’ll never ever forget.

 

[Chris S]

Re: My 9/11 Story all in one place

The brawl with FEMA hit the folks on the pile HARD. All of a sudden, as if overnight, the place was surrounded by tall chain link fences. You had to show a shield or other acceptable ID to get on the site. I noticed the folks from FEMA had little plastic ID card badges.

Cops and firemen were no longer permitted just to come and go as they wished. I don’t know so much how the FDNY did stuff, but I spoke wikth some cops and the cops off duty had to wait their turn to go on the site. Every day more and more big machinery came in, along with the allowable construction workers, metal workers and big crane operators. I can’t tell you how many businesses sent equipment from all over...... bulldozers, cranes of every type, huge 18 wheeler refuse haulers to cart the stuff away. I heard later on the news that organized crime sent in trucks too.... but they were taking their haul not to the Staten Island Landfill for sifting for body parts and belongings.... theirs was going to scrap metal places.

Our center prepared and equipped many a Staten Island police officer for their turn of duty at Zero, most importantly with respirators.

One of the things we came to carry were items for the rescue dogs. We got tons and tons of dog food donated, of all different types. One night I volunteered to drop off trays and trays of Walter’s food to the folks working in the Staten Island Landfill, doing a final sifting for remains. Calls were made and I got the clearance to deliver that and dog stuff. I drove my little white Chevy Cavalier over, the back seat down to make the trunk a virtual cargo bed of food. I made my way into the dump and was escorted to where all was occurring within the bowels of the dump. It was at the top of a closed landfill pile as the dump had only been closed a few months before.

I ended up being right at the foot of Arden** Avenue where it intersects with the West Shore Expressway. The place looked like a M*A*S*H unit with army tents up all over the place. It stunk. The folks looking for remains would form a straight line, across the pile they were ready to go through. They all wore those white biohazard suits, completely protected. Here I was still in sneakers, sweatpants and shirt. It looked rather like something out of the Andromeda Strain.

I made my way to the tent which housed the dogs, ready to drop off the food. It was only then that I learned that those dogs ONLY ate Eukenuba..... and so I gave him all I had. The other type of food went back to the center and were later donated to the local humane society. What they wanted most for the dogs were nylon throw away leashes and dog booties. Needless to say, the next day New York 1 News announced what was needed. I asked the officer there in charge why the nylon leashes were used and he explained that once a leash (or booties) were used they were contaminated, and so needed to be thrown away. Heck, using that logic me and my clothes should have been glowing. Come to think of it, I never did get even a respirator.


According to news broadcasts men and women were lined up at the Jacob Javits Convention Center in the thousand in order to volunteer to help. Most never got the chance to go as so many had come in droves to volunteer. For that whole week our center played host to firefighters coming in from all over the world, many from our own country. I remember meeting firefighters from Australia and England.... they really do have quite the Brotherhood. I think that’s really cool.

One night two guys came in construction clothing and with tools and they wanted to go over and work. They had come from Illinois but couldn’t get to Zero. It was arranged to deliver them there as they were accredited metal workers and could work the tools to cut those huge imposing beams. I didn’t get to see them again, so I don’t know how they fared.

Next to the South Tower there had been a deli.... it ran street to street but was a narrow place. Always super crowded. It was called the Essex Deli. One night I needed to deliver med supplies to it as it was, for that day at least, a first aid center. When we got there we found them packing up to move. What a surprise! I couldn’t help but notice though that the once refrigerated shelves which had held cheese, eggs and the like were now neatly labeled “cotton pads”, “eyewash”, “sterile gloves” and the like. They ended up moving to an office building lobby on Broadway that night. For the life of me I have no idea why locations kept changing.

 

[Chris S]

Re: My 9/11 Story all in one place

We were also getting word that FEMA was gonna shut down our little Staten Island Relief Center. I remember well we were quite devastated. We yelled and screamed and carried on. It was all to no avail. On Saturday, which happened to be my final day, we packed up from Yankee Stadium on Staten Island and moved our remaining inventory to the Homeport, a naval type installation. There was nothing left for us to do. It was time to go home.

On August 16, 2002 the volunteers of the center came to Lisa and Dave’s home for a barbeque. On September 5, 2002 my old team of “shields” and organizers from the Relief Center joined me in my courthouse as I received a commendation. The Chief Judge for the State Of New York gave me a commendation and called me a hero. I don't understand why doing what you're supposed to do makes you a hero. The lady I helped from the area on 9/11 was there at the ceremony and spoke a few words which were very, very kind.

Simple words cannot ever adequately describe how truly fortunate I feel. They also cannot describe the incredible sense of guilt. Yes, I know logically it’s silly but every time I see someone mourning due to that day it just breaks my heart in two and I hate myself for not having done more or figuring out a way to do more. I am so very sorry I could not have done more.

From 2003:
A few weeks ago I visited Ground Zero once again. The very contaminated Deutsche Bank is surrounded by walls of plywood which has become a message board for visiting tourists. It reminded me of those dusty messages left almost two years ago. I began to read the messages, looking for the good from this all. You see 9/11 was not just this hideous act. Rising from the ashes of destruction and hate on that day were also the best in mankind. Acts of bravery. Stranger helping stranger. A city united as I’ve never seen it before. All of which left me speechless and in awe of my people.

That day in July 2003 I stood in the background, feeling invisible, watching the people who came on their pilgrimage to Ground Zero. In the bag I carried were documents I had been there that day on 9/11, my proof so I could file the papers I needed to. Watching the tourists under the circumstances became surreal. Some had those silly foam Statue of Liberty crowns bought from a nearby vendor.

Many were writing messages on the plywood wall on Liberty Street and some were truly beautiful to read. One quoted from the Lord of the Rings.... “I wish this never happened” said Frodo. “So do all who see such time, but that is not for us to decide. All we can do is decide what to do with the time that is given to us” was the answer given by the wise wizard Gandalf. Another was a message from a man from the Masai tribe in Africa who wrote along the lines that now, being here, he understood the actions of the U.S.A. and did not blame us for going to war. There were messages from Canada, England, Australia, the Far East, South* America.

Some were in English, some Spanish. A few were even in Arabic or something similar, along with some in Chinese or Korean. I watched families waving little stick flags for a camera shot, along with three Sheiite men posing for a picture. Some folks were going into the Burger King for lunch.... the same one that once had been a morgue and then served rescuer’s meals. Many tourists studied maps, speculating what was where before it all fell down. One man told his kids that the Twin Towers were twice as big as the building now across the West** Street near where they were standing. In reality, it was quite taller than that. Some left pictures, some flowers, some poems. Soldiers and servicemen on leave left their unit numbers and an encouraging message. Many quoted the Bible, and just about every holy book in existence. All spoke of love. Of peace. Of honor and of bravery.

Everyone is trying to conceptualize the idea of a memorial at the site. To me, the best memorial would be to forever preserve the words and message of those making the pilgrimage there. There could be no fitter tribute.


These are things I chose to remember most of all. The best in people and the best of our society. And because of this, each day is a thing of beauty and I fear nothing.

I cherish my country, my family, my fabulous horse, my friends, my city, my way of life. It just doesn’t get any better than this. It truly has been a wonderful life, and it just keeps getting better. Even when sadness comes (it comes to us all), I know and I remember........

“So do all who see such time, but that is not for us to decide. All we can do is decide what to do with the time that is given to us”.

In Memory of:

Captain William Thompson
SCO Mitchell Wallace
SCO Thomas Jurgens
Firefighter Tom Foley, professional bullrider
William Erwin
And to all those who fell victim that fateful day.

 

[Thoreau72]

Re: My 9/11 Story all in one place

I wonder who was the actual person who described WTC as being Ground Zero, and why they used that term to describe it? Matt Tartaglia, RIP, worked there.

 

[camlok]

Re: My 9/11 Story all in one place

I wonder who was the actual person who described WTC as being Ground Zero, and why they used that term to describe it? Matt Tartaglia, RIP, worked there.

GZ was chosen, as always, for the greatest propaganda value.

 

[camlok]

Re: My 9/11 Story all in one place

It's very interesting, not to mention telling, how any discussion of anything 911, gets sent to the Conspiracy Theory forum. Is Chris S's telling of the events of 911, that he took part in, a conspiracy theory?

This, in and of itself, illustrates a kind of censoring, a terrible abuse of the right of freedom of speech. The management is actually helping the government to censor speech.

If a person were to start a thread relating the US government's take on 911, would it too be relegated to the Conspiracy Theory forum?

 

[stundie]

Re: My 9/11 Story all in one place

Thank you very much for sharing this Chris, sounds like you did an amazing job in very difficult circumstances.

I do have a couple of questions for you, if that's alright?

• Many of the workers at GZ were affected by exposure to the toxins like asbestos that were released after the collapse, are sick with respiratory illnesses or cancer. How are you shaping up?
• Can you remember any of the "Hot! Hot!" items you were pulling from the rubble?
• You described...."Then I heard the loudest silence I ever heard."....could you explain in details what you heard or was it a case of that everything fell silent?
• What was the word on the ground about FEMA taking over the responsibilities of clearing up at GZ?

Thanks

Stundie

 

[Thoreau72]

Re: My 9/11 Story all in one place

It's very interesting, not to mention telling, how any discussion of anything 911, gets sent to the Conspiracy Theory forum. Is Chris S's telling of the events of 911, that he took part in, a conspiracy theory?

This, in and of itself, illustrates a kind of censoring, a terrible abuse of the right of freedom of speech. The management is actually helping the government to censor speech.

If a person were to start a thread relating the US government's take on 911, would it too be relegated to the Conspiracy Theory forum?

Well, the simple truth is that the subject of 911 makes many people very uncomfortable. This is apparent in this cyber world, but even more apparent in the real world where one may observe body language.

Just yesterday I attempted to engage a man who I have known about 6 months on the subject, after I had been told by several of his co-workers about his position on the subject. Small irony is that some younger people are far more curious and open-minded than the older folks.

Anyway, in a curious and friendly way I asked Jim what it was about the official story that he found so persuasive. I usually say something or the other, usually business related, to Jim every few days. He basically said the subject gave him a terrible headache, and he preferred not to talk about it, which I respected. We had pitter-patter talk about where we were when it happened and such as that, but he was not interested, fearful of, having any discussion about the details.

So I don't see it as censorship so much as simply a practical way to keep the subject isolated from the mainstream. And that is part of the reason that so few posters actually talk about it. C'est la vie.

 

[camlok]

Re: My 9/11 Story all in one place

So I don't see it as censorship so much as simply a practical way to keep the subject isolated from the mainstream. And that is part of the reason that so few posters actually talk about it. C'est la vie.

Your first sentence describes censorship to a T, Thoreau. What management does is helps to protect adults, adults who are supposed to honor and love freedom of speech above all else, from having to face reality. This is what the US, and other nations do with their propaganda.

What possible harm could ever come to supposedly free and open societies from honestly and openly looking at anything? Isn't this supposed to be who we are?

Chris S's account of his actual real life experiences are hidden from view. Why isn't every personal account of anything, on any subject and there are many, relegated to the Conspiracy Theory forum?

 

[Thoreau72]

Re: My 9/11 Story all in one place

Your first sentence describes censorship to a T, Thoreau. What management does is helps to protect adults, adults who are supposed to honor and love freedom of speech above all else, from having to face reality. This is what the US, and other nations do with their propaganda.

What possible harm could ever come to supposedly free and open societies from honestly and openly looking at anything? Isn't this supposed to be who we are?

Chris S's account of his actual real life experiences are hidden from view. Why isn't every personal account of anything, on any subject and there are many, relegated to the Conspiracy Theory forum?

Don't know about you, but I went through it, as cynical as I am. Cognitive Dissonance is very real, and in many individuals, acute. I have one brother that is very much that way. When faced with, for example, a book discussing things he disagrees with, the anxiety from across the table and on his face is palpable.

IMO, a larger part of the population experiences cognitive dissonance than not. It's real, and I respect the effort at segregation of subject matter. I may not agree with it, but I respect it.

 

[camlok]

Re: My 9/11 Story all in one place

Don't know about you, but I went through it, as cynical as I am. Cognitive Dissonance is very real, and in many individuals, acute. I have one brother that is very much that way. When faced with, for example, a book discussing things he disagrees with, the anxiety from across the table and on his face is palpable.

IMO, a larger part of the population experiences cognitive dissonance than not. It's real, and I respect the effort at segregation of subject matter. I may not agree with it, but I respect it.

We all did, Thoreau, such is the great power of US propaganda. Of course other countries have theirs too but the US is extra special when it comes to effective propaganda.

Recognizing that adults act like children should not, in my opinion, be used as an excuse to betray our most cherished principles.

People who hold themselves out as folks trying to advance, protect, and enshrine American values should not be abusing them terribly.

Like a young horse, even an old horse, exposure to reality is the only honest way to train. And they quickly learn that all these big, bad scary things are not really big, bad scary things at all. They gain greater trust in the person who gently brought them to their senses and they become much better creatures, for themselves and for other creatures.

It's a beauty to behold a horse that has overcome its deep seated, nature induced fears.

People are no different than horses. There is a great deal of truth in the old saying, "the truth shall set you free".

 

[Thoreau72]

Re: My 9/11 Story all in one place

We all did, Thoreau, such is the great power of US propaganda. Of course other countries have theirs too but the US is extra special when it comes to effective propaganda.

Recognizing that adults act like children should not, in my opinion, be used as an excuse to betray our most cherished principles.

People who hold themselves out as folks trying to advance, protect, and enshrine American values should not be abusing them terribly.

Like a young horse, even an old horse, exposure to reality is the only honest way to train. And they quickly learn that all these big, bad scary things are not really big, bad scary things at all. They gain greater trust in the person who gently brought them to their senses and they become much better creatures, for themselves and for other creatures.

It's a beauty to behold a horse that has overcome its deep seated, nature induced fears.

People are no different than horses. There is a great deal of truth in the old saying, "the truth shall set you free".

Absolutely. Once you cross the threshold and confront the Cognitive Dissonance, it's all downhill. Yes, the truth, however unpleasant, is its own reward.

 

[Rogue Valley]

Re: My 9/11 Story all in one place

I'm curious why you didn't simply post a link to your Facebook (My 9/11) page or publish this within your DP Blog?

 

[mike2810]

Re: My 9/11 Story all in one place

Don't know about you, but I went through it, as cynical as I am. Cognitive Dissonance is very real, and in many individuals, acute. I have one brother that is very much that way. When faced with, for example, a book discussing things he disagrees with, the anxiety from across the table and on his face is palpable.

IMO, a larger part of the population experiences cognitive dissonance than not. It's real, and I respect the effort at segregation of subject matter. I may not agree with it, but I respect it.

You left out the Gage/Jones/TonySz/Harrit, etc. for having cognitive dissonance. They don't agree with you. I will say you are very set in your views. That is ok and I can accept that you believe what you believe. Your views, however, does not mean you are correct that those who disagree with you have cognitive dissonance .