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18 Years Later, and I'm Still Speechless.

I WILL NEVER FORGET. The horror. The loss. The helpers.


New York City. September 11, 2001. The world was changed forever in ways we may never fully realize. I spoke briefly of the event in my novel, although the mention does little to honor the weight of the day. The events rocked anyone who was conscious to their core and almost instinctively, priorities and calendars were shuffled. Relationships, family and community were placed at the top - valued more than anything else.


I was drinking alcoholically at the time and as I sat in front of the television and watched the unspeakable images play and replay and replay across the screen, I sat numb. The thousands of people both in the building and in the plane... as well as on the ground, they didn't have a choice in the days events. In their lives coming to an end. Unspeakable.


I began to admit to myself that I was, by my own hand, killing myself with alcohol and I needed to find the courage to face myself. I wouldn't find that courage for two more months after the towers fell. God Bless Us All.

soulnotskin: becoming the me I was meant to be


Excerpt from soulnotskin:

CHAPTER TEN

The city was still abnormally tense with threats of post 9-11 anthrax in the mail. Many stories circulated, like the one that there were biochemical agents aboard the planes when they hit the towers in New York, and killer chemicals would find their way across the globe through the air. On some level I think everyone was waiting to start gasping and frothing at the mouth because of some biochemical agents we heard about on the nightly news. I worked downtown at the Sun-Times building when the planes hit. When I arrived at work, we all gathered around one woman’s small black and white TV, trying to make sense of what was happening.


There had grown an eeriness I’d never experienced in my beloved city. Parades of people marching silently along sidewalks with cell phones to their ears and their eyes fixed on the sky. Bank lines stretched around the corner and occasionally in an otherwise noisy city, you 198

might hear a sneeze or cough above an ambulance in the distance.


As a cigarette smoker, I’d take breaks and ride down the elevator to talk with police officers or security guards who had been assigned to our building. I spoke with one who confessed that they weren’t supposed to speak to us. I asked him why so many extra officers had suddenly appeared. Why were they there? He said plainly, “I don’t know. To provide the illusion of security?” I asked him what he was trained to do if a plane were to hit or some aftershock from the attacks in New York were to suddenly present in Chicago. He looked me in the eyes and said, “Very little.”


“So, what would you do?” I asked.


“Just like you, I’d run for my life.”


The jig was up. I had already suspected that the city had done just that, provided the illusion of security to anxious citizens. I also knew that one man couldn’t stop a plane from crashing, bombs dropping, anthrax, or paratroopers. I knew he alone couldn’t ward off a truck bomber if they chose to drive into the building. In light of obvious logic, his honesty was appreciated. 199

I remember the thought crossing my mind: The world is insane, and I can’t afford to be in a blackout. Still, I drank heartily. The paranoia and fear consuming a post 9-11 America was added fuel and justification for my drinking.


✽✽✽


I sat on the couch, waiting for it to sink in. The doctor sat across from me, asking if I had any questions or concerns. I was waiting for it to become real. I studied his face closely, wondering if I could trust him. Daya did.


Clinically depressed, he’d said. I sat erect in the words, certain I’d be hauled off to an institution, tranquilized and propped up in front of a locked window near an easel. Wearing only a paper robe and slippers, I’d be reduced to finger painting in a roomful of others who’d once had great potential but failed to pull their lives together. I almost welcomed it.


“Jennifer, do you have any questions for me?” He seemed kind and smart. He didn’t creep me out. I felt like I could trust him. Still, I was nervous. “Okay, then. I have a few for you.”




 
 
 

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