For as long as I can remember, New York City completely dazzled me. I grew up in a suburb of Manhattan; a mere 30-minute drive from my small Northern New Jersey town brought me to the city I adored.
My earliest memories of New York are similar to many others’ who grew up outside of the Big Apple. I can recall countless drives into Manhattan to see Broadway Shows (Annie was my first), dinners at classic spots like Ruby Foo’s and the Stardust Diner (the waiters and waitresses climb on tables, dance, and sing the entire meal!), meals at the hidden gems of Chinatown and the West Village, chilly mornings to see the Christmas tree and holiday window displays, lazy walks through Central Park or along the river on the West Side, and of course that very first time my parents let me travel by train alone to visit one of my best friends who lives on the Upper West Side.
Before third grade, I didn’t really know what the World Trade Center was. I knew that there were two, almost identical “twin towers” in lower Manhattan, but as a nine-year-old, I didn’t completely grasp the importance of the city skyline staple. I didn’t realize that thousands of people made a living within those buildings, that thousands of people traveled to see this tourist destination every single day, that thousands of people would not make it through September 11, 2001.
Like many Americans, I will never forget that day. While most memories before my 10th birthday are quite hazy I can recall every detail of that sunny morning down to what I was wearing. At approximately 9 a.m. the office administrators at Dorchester Elementary School made an announcement over the loudspeaker that we were experiencing major technical difficulties and that no student or teacher would be permitted to use the computers. Then, Mr. Aaron—the teaching assistant in my third grade class—left school in a panic. None of us knew it at the time, but he was a volunteer fireman and was headed to New York to help in any way he could.
One by one students began to leave school. My teacher would quietly let each confused third-grader know that their mom or dad was in the main office to pick him or her up. We all knew something was wrong, but at such a young age could never begin to guess what had happened.
When my own mother came to pick up our “carpool,” which included me, my siblings, and my next-door-neighbors, she was visibly sad as she tried to explain to a car full of children (ranging from age six to 12) what had happened in New York that morning. My neighbors were scared. They knew their mom and dad worked in Manhattan but my mom assured them that their parents were okay. Through the window in the backseat of my mom’s minivan, we could see smoke in the sky.
After the initial shock of the day, life changed in and around New York City. Every house had an American flag proudly hanging, drivers let other motorists merge into their lane (unusual for the New York area), and there was an ever-present sadness looming for a decent amount of time. I can remember laying in my parents’ bed every single night after the attacks (with my siblings AND my two dogs) in order to watch the news about the events, looming war, and every horror that came with that terrible day. We were always silent the entire time.
Now, I cannot believe that 13 anniversaries of the attacks have come and gone. Although drivers are beeping at each other on the highway again and many American flags have long faded outside of the New Jersey suburban homes I know so well, the strength of the New York metropolitan area is palpable at this time in September. It is something I miss most about the East Coast, not because I enjoy remembering that day but becasue I find comfort in being around those who experienced it in the same way I did.
So today, I am thinking about that day in third grade that changed my life and so many other lives. More importantly however, I am thinking about New York City. I am thinking about how lucky I am to still be so in love with a city that has been through so much and come out on top. New York City did and always will dazzle me.
Please join me and reflect on those who lost their lives on September 11, 2001. May they never be forgotten.