On Friday, January 31, a medical jet crashed in Northeast Philadelphia in a densely populated area after less than a minute in the air. The jet’s six occupants, including a child who received medical treatment in Philadelphia, her mother, medical personnel, and jet operators, were killed upon landing. One victim was killed on the ground and over 20 were injured. A week later, the forensic investigation is still not completed. A community has been devastated by the second tragic plane crash to happen at the end of January. There is one key difference, however. This community is mine.
One in a line of several generations to be born and raised in Philadelphia, Northeast Philadelphia has always been home. Over the years, I have often admonished my neighborhood for its characteristic of there being “nothing to do around here.” I’ve complained about car break-ins and road work. I’ve failed to truly understand the intense rivalry between high schools. But, nonetheless, it is home. It is a proud neighborhood with proud people. They love their community and their favorite places, and they are often willing to fight for them.
Now, despite my often mixed feelings about Northeast Philly, this tragedy has really had an impact on me. There is always an awful accident on the news, but that certain level of desensitization is lost when the accident is at home. When the plane crash occurred, I was downtown for an event and received a text from my mom that a plane crashed into Roosevelt Mall. I brushed it off as dramatic or something crazy someone posted on Facebook. It was definitely just a drone or a car that sounded really loud. There was no news report online. Something like that just doesn’t not have Google results.
And then the texts came. Friends who knew I could have been in the Northeast. Friends who knew my family definitely was. There was no more dismissing it. A plane really crashed into Roosevelt Mall. The news reports started. People around me were getting calls from family in other parts of the country making sure they were safe. Just as quickly as I brushed off the accident, I realized how serious it was.
It wasn’t long before the anxiety set in. Was my family okay? Were my friends okay? Was anyone I knew hurt? I am lucky that the answers were yes, yes, and no. That didn’t stop the fear, however. My mom knows people who were injured. My grandparents felt their house shake. My friend’s mom saw the explosion.
The most difficult part of this tragedy for me has been knowing just how close my loved ones were. Within a matter of seconds, it could have been my house or my grandparents’. This anxiety and reminder of how easily disaster can strike has still yet to fully dissipate a week later. We read about stories like this. We see them on TV. We talk about them and how awful they are. But we are distanced. We are not prepared to face them. And when we have to? We are grateful that our community is strong. Our neighborhood is strong. Our city is strong.
If you or someone you know have also been impacted by the plane crash, mental health services are available through the city. You can learn more about offered services through the Department of Behavioral Health at dbhids.org. To support victims of this disaster, you can donate to the One Philly Fund at https://philacityfund.org/programs/onephilly/ . Finally, to stay up to date with the National Transportation Safety Board’s investigation, you can visit ntsb.gov/investigations.