The weekend of September 8, 2001 was spent at a Pi Phi meeting in some Texas city. I can’t remember if it was Dallas or Houston. A few of us stayed until Monday to meet and discuss an updating of a program. There were two of us flying to St. Louis. We had decided to get to the airport early and then meet some more at the airport before we headed out. Sara, the other person heading to St. Louis, checked in before me. The TWA attendant told Sara there was a plane taking off in a few minutes and she could get on it. When she said she was going for it, I agreed to go too. We both got to the gate, the gate door was closed, but the attendant at the gate opened the door and we boarded. The rest of the committee went to their gates since we decided that we really didn’t need to meet again that day.
September 10, 2001 turned out to be the last day that you could go to a closed gate door and board the plane.
September 11, 2001 was a beautiful day in southern Illinois. The sky was a deep blue. I remember seeing deer in the backyard before I turned on the television and sat down at the computer to answer e-mails. I hadn’t talked to my sister Louise in a few days and calling her was one of the first things on my list.
Our mother had passed away that March after nine months of being in and out of hospitals dealing with a brain tumor and cancer. The day that we met in Florida knowing that the end was near for our mother, we were both in our private agonies. Her husband, a bond trader, had just left his job at Cantor Fitzgerald on the 103 floor of the north tower of the World Trade Center. When he was in Florida he was networking and by the time we had made our way to Long Island for a memorial service a few days later, he had another job lined up, this time in the 60s of the South Tower.
He had been there for the earlier attack on the Trade Center and had walked down 100 floors by the light of his wrist watch. Having him in the middle of the towers seemed better than being on the top of the world.
The phone was in my hand as I turned on the television. The shot I saw on the screen made the hair rise on the back of my neck. A plane had crashed in to the World Trade Center. There was no way I could call my sister. She would hear the fear in my voice. I walked around the house with a knot in my stomach. A few minutes later the phone rang. It was Louise. There was panic in her voice. I told her to calm down. I kept telling her that at the end of the day she would be one of the lucky ones. I kept saying it even though I didn’t truly feel it. All I knew was that I needed to get to the east coast as quickly as possible. I was trying to make flight arrangements to get there when I heard from the voice on the other end of the phone that the Pentagon had been hit.
I was on the phone with Louise when the first tower fell. I called my uncle and cousins. They made their way to Louise’s house so that she wouldn’t be alone when she left work and went home.
It was after 11 a.m. when she finally heard from her husband. She said that when he looked out the window and saw debris falling, he said to himself “This will not end well.” He and a colleague left their desks and headed out of the building. That earlier experience was still fresh in his mind. They ignored the all clear that sounded and told people it was safe to go back to their offices.
He left and kept walking north. He knew he was one of the lucky ones. Nearly everyone he had worked with at Cantor was gone. The colleague who helped him get the new job perished. My brother-in-law’s life would always be pre- and post-9/11.
September 11, 2001 changed lives. The events of the day are etched in many minds. My sister and her husband’s lives were changed that day.
As the anniversary of 9/11 approaches, the day will play over and over again in my mind. My sister is gone. It will be a tough day for her husband. As we remember that day, let us not forgot all the lives that were lost. May they rest in peace. And may those who mourn their loss know that they are not alone.
There is another post with the names of GLO members who were lost.
(c) Fran Becque, www.fraternityhistory.com, 2012. All Rights Reserved.
