I left my almost six-month old 2001 Toyota Corolla at the dealer for routine maintenance that Tuesday morning of September 11.
It was approximately 7:15 AM as I walked from the dealer East on 95th Street to catch the CTA 93A South Pulaski bus to the Midway Orange Line towards downtown. It was a walk I had made many times before with my 1984 Corolla.
The only difference that day was my sudden complaining to myself about the long four suburban blocks I had to walk. I never complained about it before. In fact, I typically enjoyed the much needed exercise as I got my heart rate up a notch.
But that day was different -- as I soon discovered -- in ways I could have never imagined.
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I walked into our national association's 15th floor office next to the Civic Opera House around 8:15 AM with my large coffee and muffin in hand. Our office formally opens for business at 9 AM, but a few of my co-workers, like me, prefer to arrive earlier, allowing us time to settle in and sip our coffee, before the barrage of customer telephone calls begin promptly at 9 AM.
As I settled in my corner cubicle, I booted up my computer and flipped on my portable radio. Our IT Manager at the time, Janice, who arrived at 7 AM, began shouting from her office to no one in particular: 'A plane crashed into the building!' 'They've closed the Sears Tower!'
Not understanding what was happening, my initial thought was a small plane had crashed into the former Sears Tower [now known as The Willis Tower]. This did not surprise me too much, since the former Meigs Field [now known as Waverly Island] was a small airport near the downtown lakefront, and was typically used for helicopters and private planes.
'The Mercantile Exchange is closed!' As Janice said this, I peered out my only window with a direct view of The Merc, as it was nicknamed, across the street, to see people streaming out of it and other West Loop office buildings.
'Look at that!' No, it wasn't Janice speaking. It was radio personality Howard Stern's voice coming from my radio. I wasn't a Stern fan, but he was tolerable until my favorite local radio personalities began their show later in the afternoon. But on that day, it was Stern's voice that explained to me what was happening in New York City.
Two commercial airplanes had struck each one of the World Trade Center Towers. America was being attacked.
'I know who did this,' said Stern. Great, I thought. Tell me! As much as I prided myself in keeping current with news, especially politics, I could never understand the conflicts in the Middle East, for example. I once asked my Father to explain to me about why Israel always seemed to be at war, but his explanation left me more confused.
At 9 AM, most of our office staff had arrived, and Stern gave way to the national news anchors. Everything from that point on seemed to happen quickly. Our association's Executive Director, our Managers, and some support staff, were in Buffalo, New York, wrapping up our annual conference. The Executive Director contacted us and gave the order to close the office, which coincided with the building's property management company's decision to close the building to the public.
Before I shutdown my computer and gathered my belongings, I made one telephone call. In the midst of the confusion and uncertainty, I was certain of one point: My car was at the dealer and its maintenance was scheduled to be completed after 3 PM. I decided to call my Mother to ask her if I could stay with her until my car was ready, since my parents' home was along the Pulaski bus route, and within walking distance of the dealer.
My Mother was never one to watch morning talk shows or soap operas, since she was always too busy managing a household and raising two children. So when I called my Mother to tell her of my plans, I asked her if she heard the news. She had. My late Uncle Bill had called her as he watched the first plane strike the World Trade Center's North Tower. 'They're going to kill us,' he had screamed into the telephone. Like Stern, my Uncle Bill knew who was attacking us. 'They're going to kill us all,' he said to my Mother.
The walk from our office to the Washington and Wells El Station to catch the Orange Line train was surreal. I knew it was real. But my mind did not. There was minimal conversation on the El and none on the Pulaski bus.
I arrived at my parents home about 11 AM, and spent the remainder of that day watching the attacks over and over again. I listened to the television news reporters, as they explained this was a 'terrorist attack,' and as they speculated who orchestrated it.
And this time I listened closely.
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We look at things differently since that September day in 2001.
As we walk through an airport.
As we question an abandoned black SUV parked down the street.
As we notice an unattended backpack under the seat on an El train.
I still walk those four long suburban blocks when I leave my now almost 10-1/2 year old Corolla at the dealer to catch the Pulaski bus.
But one thing has changed: I have never complained about that walk again.
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Filed under: Breaking, Politics
Tags: #OsamabinLaden #news #politics, 10YearsLater, 9-11, Anniversary, remember, Wherewereyou, WorldTradeCenter
