I am just a guy. An American, who lives and works in New
York City. I will not attempt to
bring news, or photos, or any earth-shattering city observations. But since I own this small space on the
web, I need to use it to express my thoughts and feelings.
As I arrived at work on September 11th, I
heard the awful news of a plane crashing into the World Trade Center. Like most, I immediately felt sad for
the lives I knew were lost. I have
a 14-month old daughter, and all I could wonder was if any kids were
hurt.
Then, while listening to the news in the
background, my wife called. She
said she was watching TV, and had seen a second plane hit the second World Trade
tower. I became speechless. I had thought of terrorism, but in all
honesty it was beyond my comprehension that anyone could do this on
purpose. I guess, I was in
denial.
Like so many around the world, I listened
to the radio as things continually got worse. As each tower collapsed, the sense of
loss and sorrow grew. The news of
the Pentagon strike, and other 'lost' planes.
It was ridiculous to try and work, so I
left early and went to the Red Cross to donate blood. When I got there, I was told there would
be a 4-hour wait. An hour later, it
had grown to a 5-hour wait. I was
then told that it might be better to donate at a hospital close to
home.
I went to my mothers, to see if I could
use her phone to call the hospital, and check to see if the 59th street bridge
had been opened. On 9th avenue, in
the middle of the sidewalk, a man sat on a small wooden kitchen chair, maybe in
his 70s. He was quiet, not looking
anywhere in particular. He had in
his hand an American flag, and every few moments he wiped away a tear. With the sounds of the fighter jets over
head, it was a surreal feeling as people still walked calmly in the
streets.
As I crossed 5th avenue, I could see the
same giant swirls of smoke I had seen from the Internet. On the 59th Street bridge I could see
the smoke moving into Brooklyn. I
somehow pictured the smoke itself to be fear and anguish, as I watched it
spread.
I made it home, and went to my local
hospital, only to be told that they weren't accepting any more blood. My wife got home after me, with our
daughter. I held my daughter for as
long, and as close, as a 14-month old will let you. I was thankful that we were all safe,
and that she was too young to understand what was
happening.
I then sat, glued to my TV, watching. We received many calls and emails of
friends, family, and even students asking for our safety. We made several calls
ourselves.
Today, the sorrow is still strong. The anger is as well. I'm afraid they will be for a long
time.
So, whats the point of this page? Basically the following, which is
addressed to those responsible, though I know they will never see
it:
Please visit The Red Cross, and donate what you can.
-Mario Giannini