SAM S. 2003

Sam and I met on December 31, 1997. On August 29, 2004 we were married. We were together, in Brooklyn, on September 11th, as we were on September 10th and as were when he wrote this piece on August 31, 2003. It shows an interesting counterpoint to my memories of that time.

This picture was taken at our friend Parke's wedding in 1999 -
it was a joyous day and this is one of our favorite pictures.

I left work on September 10, 2001 feeling anxious. This was nothing new. I was worried about losing my job even though I hated it. Often, in leaving work to attend an event, I was afraid of angering my superiors. In my mind, it seemed I could never stay late enough to satisfy them. I was going to the annual Manhattan Theater Club pie-off in Brooklyn with my girlfriend Jamie, her co-worker Sharon and Sharon's fiancée Manuel. The pie-off was an unknown, something Jamie had invited me to and I therefore felt compelled to go. Back then though, I pretty much hated going anywhere; I liked getting home after work and crawling into my little cocoon.

My office was in Rockefeller Center then. From there I walked to Jamie's office which was on 43rd street between Eighth and Ninth avenues. Outside it was wet and stormy. After hustling downtown through hordes of people in the humidity, standing close around the pole on the Q-train made me miserable. I felt sweaty and unkempt. I was acutely aware of a bulging belly, moist armpits and pants that were either too lose or too tight around my (real or imagined) distended waist. It took us about an hour to get to the house on Rutland Road.

I felt jealous of the people who owned this huge, beautiful house in a part of Brooklyn I'd never been to before. To combat the paralyzing self-consciousness I feel at parties at which I don’t know anyone, I drank a lot of whiskey very fast. It helped. I ate some good food, but was jealous of everyone else for being able to eat the various meat dishes which looked so scrumptious.

They'd chosen Jamie to be a pie-off judge, which was something of an honor. I enjoyed watching as she suffered through tasting one bad pie after another. I was proud for her and I felt important being the boyfriend of someone who they held in high regard even though she hadn't worked there very long. It made me think that at least one of us was a significant entity at his or her place of work.

We left the party at around midnight; cars had been ordered for us. It seemed a generous thing to do, and again I marveled at the apparent camaraderie that her officemates- even the higher-ups-were cultivating. Drunk in the car, I chatted amiably with Jamie's interns. When we got home, I went to sleep feeling easy and somewhat happy.


***
To read Sam's thoughts from 2011, please click here.

KATHY S. 2003

Kathy is the mother of a friend of mine and a friend of my mother's—she's the definition of a family friend. Kathy's piece took my breath away. People responded in such unique ways to this project but in many ways Kathy's response is universal. Anyone who has returned to air travel since September 11th can appreciate what Kathy describes here. Also, it is particularly touching to me as I am someone Kathy has driven to and from the airport on numerous occasions.

This piece was written on September 12, 2003.
Kathy is a resident of Pittsburgh, PA.

Dear Jamie,

I just read every word of your Before Project and am overwhelmed with emotions. What you are doing is so important. It reminds me of what Grammie always told me "It's not fair to forget the good things." Your project makes me realize that sometimes we don't recognize that the "good things" ARE the "good things" till much later.

I couldn't begin to remember what I was doing on September 10th so I just went to the basement to retrieve my 2001 calendar to refresh my memory. Not much doing on the 10th, just helped with my Monday night feeding the Homeless project. Taking a glance at the whole week before the 11th, I noticed little unimportant things like oil change for the stationwagon, weeding, lunch with a friend followed by an hour of antiquing, an evening dinner theater with dear friends. Nothing unusual. But then I saw an entry that grabbed my heart.
Friday the 7th - "take Kate to airport".

Sunday the 9th - "Airport for Kate".

In no way could I have known that weekend that I had just accompanied one of my adult children to the airport terminal GATE for the last time. No more "I'll park the car while you check-in, Honey ---meet you inside." No more riding the tram together to the other terminal while eking out a few last minutes with my precious one. No more kisses and hugs and my usual last minute instructions and blessings to "Be safe" as the airline representative grabs the boarding pass. No more lingering at the window till the plane holding my loved one is out of sight. And also no more standing with great anticipation watching a plane taxi TO the gate on arrival. No more experiencing heart palpitations as I look down the "tunnel" wondering when will MY child deplane. No more riding that tram with a son or daughter who is so excited to be HOME again.

Now, since the 11th, when I give and receive quick hugs and kisses curbside with policemen admonishing me to move on, I yearn for the "before" days when life seemed to be safe and carefree. However, in the "before" days I took oil changes, weeding, and lunches with friends for granted. I called them unimportant, didn't I? More and more I'm waking to the fact that each peaceful day is important and the things I am able to do, no matter how trivial, are blessings.

I'm reminded of one of Billy Collins' poems, DAYS, which reminds us all that each day is a gift mysteriously placed in our waking hands or set upon our foreheads moments before we open our eyes!

Jamie, I know you, too, love poetry. Are you familiar with "Days"?

Each one IS a gift, no doubt,
mysteriously placed in your waking hand
or set upon your forehead
moments before you open your eyes.

Today begins cold and bright,
the ground heavy with snow
and the thick masonry of ice,
the sun glinting off the turrets of clouds.

Through the calm eye of the window
everything is in its place
but so precariously
this day might be resting somehow

on the one before it,
all the days of the past stacked high
like the impossible tower of dishes
entertainers used to build on stage.

No wonder you find yourself
perched on the top of a tall ladder
hoping to add one more.
Just another Wednesday,

you whisper,
then holding your breath,
place this cup on yesterday's saucer
without the slightest clink.

Well, there are my thoughts about my life immediately before September llth. Thank you for inspiring me to even think about it. Thank you for helping me to better appreciate my life today as I sit here simply connecting with a dear friend of twenty four years.

Love, Kathy

***
To read Kathy's thoughts from 2011, click here.

CLAIRE W. 2003

Claire and I met freshman year at George Mason University in a French class. We were convinced we knew each other from some previous life. We took good care of each other during college—whenever either of us wanted to skip a Friday morning class the other would oblige and we would go to the pier in Old Town Alexandria and eat Ben & Jerry's.

This picture was taken at the Big Hunt in Dupont Circle on my birthday in 1999.

Claire had been married for a year when she wrote this piece on September 11, 2003. Her husband is someone she re-met on September 11, 2001.

Perhaps it's appropriate that today is the day I sit down to write about my experiences on 10 September 2001. Maybe it isn't….. I don't know.

Right or wrong, for some reason this day has evoked memories and emotions that, strangely enough, I was able to avoid a year ago.

Where was I on 10 September 2001 you have asked. I looked in an old diary to view the day….. it seems that I went to work, left early for a doctors appointment, and went home to pay bills and rest. Although it wasn't listed on my calendar, I can tell you for certain that I spent much of the day thinking about life and how lucky I was to be a living, breathing person going about my business. How, you might wonder, do I know that for a fact….. something so random as feeling an appreciation for life. Something like that from someone like me, not particularly introspective and certainly not religious. Well, here's how I know: On 10 September 2001 I was thirteen days past an almost month-long hospital stay, recovering from surgery and subsequently fighting (literally) for life because major blood clots had developed in my lungs. I was hearing, in my mind, the voice of the ER doctor stating that "it was lucky she got here when she did because one more day and that would have been it. She wouldn't have made it." Those are words that haunt you for a long, long time.

So, on Monday, 10 September 2001, I was living and thoroughly enjoying it. I was settled back into work, having just returned the previous week. I was also getting advice from a colleague as to the best way to find parking in the lot at the Pentagon, where it turned out, I was scheduled for a meeting the next morning. I didn't want to be late… luckily, I was.

This is what my life was like on 10 September 2001. I knew then how lucky, truly lucky, I was. It wasn't until the next day that I realized luck didn't even begin to describe it. Because I'm here, today, writing this story. Several of my colleagues, and many more than they, weren't fortunate enough to have my luck.

TENNILLE P. 2003

Tennille and I are both from Pittsburgh, but we didn't meet until we were living across the hall from each other freshman year at George Mason. We were in the same Scholar Program. Tennille married one of our fellow Scholars, Jerod shortly before she wrote this piece on September 10, 2003. It seemed to us all that they were a perfect match and their union a long time coming.

This picture was taken days before our graduation in May of 1997 outside the president's office at GMU.

I can seemingly only remember September 11, so if you'd like to know about that, read on.

I was sitting at my desk when I worked at HUD and I remember someone(V.) yelling, "something's going on, people are leaving DC, my brother in Africa just called me and said I should go home." I'm a skeptic. I want the real deal and I wasn't inclined to leave. Then I hear the news...and get the news delivered. HUD advised us to leave the building 30 minutes later, by then, 90 percent of Federal employees had already started making their ways into the streets and cautiously approaching the metro. I remember immediately trying to call you at home, at work; trying to call my friend K. who worked for the Federal Reserve Bank of New York, trying to call my cousin B. I reached K. and she was crying into the phone at her desk...the FRB employees were leaving, the building was a mess as it was less than three to four blocks away. It became real.

I called Jerod to no avail. I walked into the metro, quite confident that it was a safe route; but more practical that it was actually the only way I could go home and eventually get to Jerod. Others offered to take me to their homes, but home is wherever the people you love are.

The whole notion of the death toll hadn't quite hit me, largely because I had no access to the news. I tried calling Jerod but my cell phone, like all others, were tied up or powerless. The Metro stopped operating at some point and I had to take a metro bus. Metro basically dispatched all its bus drivers to major stations and told wary DC employees to get off at certain stations to continue their journeys home. My poor bus driver had no clue how to get around VA and we were re-routed three times. (Mind you it took me 40 minutes just to be able to get onto a bus). It took me 5 hours to get home to Alexandria (back then); the trip normally takes 45 minutes.

As we approached Alexandria, I finally reached Jerod...and my parents. I reached my sister, who lived in Norfolk, the major naval fleet city on the east coast. All I remember thinking was thank God we were okay, and taking a walk in the beautiful sun because for that evening I was alive and still free...and suddenly afraid when I heard planes roaring closely overhead.

And the day before...I think I went to bible study and got a ride from my mentee's father because it was too dark to travel back to Alexandria by myself.

KERRY H. 2003

In my youth Kerry was pretty much a myth. The older and seldom seen sister of my friend Kathy, Kerry and I didn't become friends until she moved to Brooklyn in the summer of 2000. I've enjoyed getting to know Kerry as an adult.

This piece was written on September 10, 2003.

Hi there-

This is a hard question. I think it says something about our lives that the day to day days are so hard to remember. I have no specific recollection of anything happening. It was a Monday, I was working in SoHo for Sachs Insights. The mood of the season I can remember, what was going on the exact day before I can't. Your question made me wonder how many days since September 11th I have lost because of monotony or at least a lack of anything truly defining.

Maybe it is time to keep a journal.