Comments on: 9/11 Reflections http://www.thirteen.org Wed, 22 Feb 2012 06:11:42 +0000 hourly 1 By: heat pump prices http://www.thirteen.org/9-11/#comment-2912 heat pump prices Tue, 08 Nov 2011 05:14:58 +0000 http://www.thirteen.org/?page_id=5406#comment-2912 Wow, marvelous blog layout! How long have you been blogging for? you made blogging look easy. The overall look of your website is excellent, as well as the content! Wow, marvelous blog layout! How long have you been blogging for? you made blogging look easy. The overall look of your website is excellent, as well as the content!

]]> By: allison http://www.thirteen.org/9-11/#comment-2748 allison Tue, 13 Sep 2011 02:59:32 +0000 http://www.thirteen.org/?page_id=5406#comment-2748 i was a police officer, i am retired now. it was the worst day of my life and continues to be. the death, the destruction, the devastation. i have seen people after they had jumped from 15 stories, but 101 stories, that image never leaves your mind. i thought it would be easier to recover remains in the days to come, after the fact, so to speak, but it was not. it was the worst thing a person a person could see, it never goes away i was a police officer, i am retired now. it was the worst day of my life and continues to be. the death, the destruction, the devastation. i have seen people after they had jumped from 15 stories, but 101 stories, that image never leaves your mind. i thought it would be easier to recover remains in the days to come, after the fact, so to speak, but it was not. it was the worst thing a person a person could see, it never goes away

]]> By: Carol Seischab http://www.thirteen.org/9-11/#comment-2747 Carol Seischab Mon, 12 Sep 2011 01:55:01 +0000 http://www.thirteen.org/?page_id=5406#comment-2747 The silence. The silence of people walking north through the streets and Central Park, covered with ash, finding a way out of the city. The silence of people waiting in a line that circled the perimeter of the Citigroup tower ready to give blood for persons taken to hospitals, not realizing that you were either alive and on your feet or dead beneath the rubble. The silence of the acrid smoke rising in the air and filling our lungs. The silence. The silence. The silence of people walking north through the streets and Central Park, covered with ash, finding a way out of the city. The silence of people waiting in a line that circled the perimeter of the Citigroup tower ready to give blood for persons taken to hospitals, not realizing that you were either alive and on your feet or dead beneath the rubble. The silence of the acrid smoke rising in the air and filling our lungs. The silence.

]]> By: Armand http://www.thirteen.org/9-11/#comment-2746 Armand Mon, 12 Sep 2011 01:16:29 +0000 http://www.thirteen.org/?page_id=5406#comment-2746 I am an ophthalmologist. After waiting at the hospital all day for survivors... We all felt so helpless and useless sitting around. The next day I went to the city to see how I could help. I brought all the supplies I could carry and was driven through the Lincoln tunnel. It was strange being the only car in the tunnel. Emerging on the other side and heading south looked like a war zone. We were able to pass checkpoints and made it to Stuyvesant. I met some residents and we cared for the rescuers and volunteers who had eye problems. For a long time afterwards posters and photographs of lost people were posted at the New York Waterway. The Ferries were the only way out for so many that day with the bridges and tunnels closed. For years afterwards I felt claustrophobic in the tunnel and would use the ferry anytime I could. I am an ophthalmologist. After waiting at the hospital all day for survivors…
We all felt so helpless and useless sitting around.

The next day I went to the city to see how I could help. I brought all the supplies I could carry and was driven through the Lincoln tunnel. It was strange being the only car in the tunnel. Emerging on the other side and heading south looked like a war zone. We were able to pass checkpoints and made it to Stuyvesant. I met some residents and we cared for the rescuers and volunteers who had eye problems.

For a long time afterwards posters and photographs of lost people were posted at the New York Waterway. The Ferries were the only way out for so many that day with the bridges and tunnels closed. For years afterwards I felt claustrophobic in the tunnel and would use the ferry anytime I could.

]]> By: teresa gejer http://www.thirteen.org/9-11/#comment-2745 teresa gejer Mon, 12 Sep 2011 00:46:34 +0000 http://www.thirteen.org/?page_id=5406#comment-2745 9/11 Palabras sin sentido en un mundo de silencio , desdicha y ahogo . Un mundo basado en los escombros de los muertos perdidos , de las almas atrapadas bajo un cielo lugubre de llanto y tristeza , de apatia y ceniza. Un vuelo de pajaro , una tristeza contenida , un sufrimiento pasivo , el aire intoxicado, mis siniestros pensamientos , la brisa de aire que camina entre los escombros de llanto y pesar, un color purpura y un cielo celeste, un andar sin camino , un camino sin huellas ni pisadas ni las sombras de seres pasaron , un llamnado de ausencia alerta, un grito de soledad que despierta de una larga ausencia, un pesar interminable, inacabable , un llamado de ayuda, un cementerio sin muertos, un llanto reprimido un cielo sin estrellas, una vela sin fuego. Otro dia de silencio , sin voces ni sonidos, un hueco en el aire y toda la falta de destino, un alma tambaleante que va de aqui para alla pero sin decidir , no tiene a donde ir y en la trampa se queda sin esperanza de conseguir un momento de tranquilidad . Bajo cadenas y candado mi alma estrellada contra la ventana sin poder salir ni entrar sin poder respirar. Con dolor que asfixia, con una pena hirviente en un fuego sin llama , un dolor prolongado y silencioso , un llanto absente en una realidad horrorosa,sin futuro y esperanza, sino un prolongado dolor que se extiende en el infinito, un dolor profundo lleno de horror y suspiros ,un dolor desgarrante en una carne putrefactada por la lentitud de su final extravagante, lleno de calor, color, sonido incesante de llanto y quejido que lamenta el destino sin esperanza. Todo el grupo de gemidos sollozos, tristeza, dolor insoportable que toca todas las celulas del cuerpo , aquellas vivas y aquellas que ya no sienten. La desesperacion del grito en un vacio, en una ausencia de esperanza en un lugar que no hay mas que dolor y una muerte inminente. Una muerte despiadante e incesante , una muerte sin final, que lastima lo mas profundo de todo y de todos que lo rodean y tambien a aquellos que se encuentran ausentes e incapaces de proveer . ayuda , o un adios calmo y sin reproches , un adios humilde a aquellos que han sido determinados a morir una muerte inhumana . Los llantos y gemidos de dolor se estremecen en las calles vacias y deshabitadas donde solo un polvo blanco parece cubrir toda la superficie existente. Un polvo blanco que se siente negro y pesado y que se nos pega como una peste . Un polvo que nos hace acordar que cayo un silencio forzado ,un silencio agobiante e interminable. Un silencio provocado, como un parto sin contracciones . Apenas puedo escuchar ya que miro por la ventana y veo dos torres altas que se estan incendiando y aunque ya no las veo, mi memoria las tiene presente y ahora puedo escuchar todas las voces y gemidos atrapados entre las llamas y sin poder ir a ningun lado mas que a un infierno inevitable. Las gentes y almas evaporadas en un hastio de cenizas y restos de un pasado prometedor y lleno de futuro , la luz es penetrante en un paisaje lleno de tristeza y soledad . Cada vez que escucho una ambulancia , aparece el temor a una desgracia proxima. Una desgracia de la cual no me puedo recuperar. Una desgracia que puede volver a ocurrir en todo instante, una desgracia que me hace sentir la fragilidad y vulnerabilidad del tejido humano. Un dolor agobiante lleno de llanto insesante. Un dolor estruendoso como una pesadilla intermitente que aparece y desaparece sin dejar huella alguna. Un calor asfixiante que desaparece en el horizonte , sin ningun rastro mas que una nube negra que llena de humo todo lo que la rodea. Una nube pesada como una pesadilla de la cual no me puedo despertar . Una pesadilla llena de imagenes que ambulan sin rumbo ni sentido en un vacio infinito, un hueco en el aire, donde no se escuchan mas que llantos y suspiros . Un dolor tan insoportable que carece de motivo y sentido, de la vida destruida. Un pesar prfundo llena mi alma, una inmobilidad de los sentidos que piden descanso de un sufrimiento interminable. Una pena taciturna que solloza, una pena que recuerda el atardecer de una civilizacion opulenta pero sin fuerza de superar el dolor percibido y con un sentido de ausencia de cosas queridas. Una pena de reproches a un pasado de abuso y superuso . Una pena sosiegada y espantada por el aire contaminado en aquel dia soleado e inesperado. Una pena oscura y preocupada por el amanecer de la peoxima manana . Una pena horrorizada por el triste panorama de una nacion estirpada de su iniciada jornada en una nueva manana, transformada en una compleja gama de sabor a garrapinada formada de restos de carne humana . Una pena que enciende la llama de alarma de una trsite jornada, apaciguada por la pesada y encumbrada hermana de una muerte cercana . Una pena traumada por el horrible venir de futuro deshecho en las calles desiertas de una ciudad alarmante por su ritmo incesasntee de sorpresa asfixiante . Una pena producida por la ausencia de sentidos y motivos surgidos de deseos inactivos . Una pena insaciable de amor ausente estirpado de una realidad alarmante y constante en un paseo desesperante . teresa gejer 9/11
Palabras sin sentido en un mundo de silencio , desdicha y ahogo .
Un mundo basado en los escombros de los muertos perdidos ,
de las almas atrapadas bajo un cielo lugubre de llanto y tristeza , de apatia y ceniza.
Un vuelo de pajaro , una tristeza contenida , un sufrimiento pasivo , el aire intoxicado, mis siniestros pensamientos , la brisa de aire que camina entre los escombros de llanto y pesar, un color purpura y un cielo celeste, un andar sin camino , un camino sin huellas ni pisadas ni las sombras de seres pasaron , un llamnado de ausencia alerta, un grito de soledad que despierta de una larga ausencia, un pesar interminable, inacabable , un llamado de ayuda, un cementerio sin muertos, un llanto reprimido un cielo sin estrellas, una vela sin fuego.
Otro dia de silencio , sin voces ni sonidos, un hueco en el aire y toda la falta de destino, un alma tambaleante que va de aqui para alla pero sin decidir , no tiene a donde ir y en la trampa se queda sin esperanza de conseguir un momento de tranquilidad . Bajo cadenas y candado mi alma estrellada contra la ventana sin poder salir ni entrar sin poder respirar.
Con dolor que asfixia, con una pena hirviente en un fuego sin llama , un dolor prolongado y silencioso , un llanto absente en una realidad horrorosa,sin futuro y esperanza, sino un prolongado dolor que se extiende en el infinito, un dolor profundo lleno de horror y suspiros ,un dolor desgarrante en una carne putrefactada por la lentitud de su final extravagante, lleno de calor, color, sonido incesante de llanto y quejido que lamenta el destino sin esperanza.
Todo el grupo de gemidos sollozos, tristeza, dolor insoportable que toca todas las celulas del cuerpo , aquellas vivas y aquellas que ya no sienten.
La desesperacion del grito en un vacio, en una ausencia de esperanza en un lugar que no hay mas que dolor y una muerte inminente.
Una muerte despiadante e incesante , una muerte sin final, que lastima lo mas profundo de todo y de todos que lo rodean y tambien a aquellos que se encuentran ausentes e incapaces de proveer .
ayuda , o un adios calmo y sin reproches , un adios humilde a aquellos que han sido determinados a morir una muerte inhumana .
Los llantos y gemidos de dolor se estremecen en las calles vacias y deshabitadas donde solo un polvo blanco parece cubrir toda la superficie existente.
Un polvo blanco que se siente negro y pesado y que se nos pega como una peste . Un polvo que nos hace acordar que cayo un silencio forzado ,un silencio agobiante e interminable. Un silencio provocado, como un parto sin contracciones .
Apenas puedo escuchar ya que miro por la ventana y veo dos torres altas que se estan incendiando y aunque ya no las veo, mi memoria las tiene presente y ahora puedo escuchar todas las voces y gemidos atrapados entre las llamas y sin poder ir a ningun lado mas que a un infierno inevitable.
Las gentes y almas evaporadas en un hastio de cenizas y restos de un pasado prometedor y lleno de futuro ,
la luz es penetrante en un paisaje lleno de tristeza y soledad .
Cada vez que escucho una ambulancia , aparece el temor a una desgracia proxima. Una desgracia de la cual no me puedo recuperar.
Una desgracia que puede volver a ocurrir en todo instante, una desgracia que me hace sentir la fragilidad y vulnerabilidad del tejido humano.
Un dolor agobiante lleno de llanto insesante.
Un dolor estruendoso como una pesadilla intermitente que aparece y desaparece sin dejar huella alguna.
Un calor asfixiante que desaparece en el horizonte , sin ningun rastro mas que una nube negra que llena de humo todo lo que la rodea. Una nube pesada como una pesadilla de la cual no me puedo despertar . Una pesadilla llena de imagenes que ambulan sin rumbo ni sentido en un vacio infinito, un hueco en el aire, donde no se escuchan mas que llantos y suspiros .
Un dolor tan insoportable que carece de motivo y sentido, de la vida destruida.
Un pesar prfundo llena mi alma, una inmobilidad de los sentidos que piden descanso de un sufrimiento interminable. Una pena taciturna que solloza, una pena que recuerda el atardecer de una civilizacion opulenta pero sin fuerza de superar el dolor percibido y con un sentido de ausencia de cosas queridas. Una pena de reproches a un pasado de abuso y superuso .
Una pena sosiegada y espantada por el aire contaminado en aquel dia soleado e inesperado.
Una pena oscura y preocupada por el amanecer de la peoxima manana .
Una pena horrorizada por el triste panorama de una nacion estirpada de su iniciada jornada en una nueva manana, transformada en una compleja gama de sabor a garrapinada formada de restos de carne humana .
Una pena que enciende la llama de alarma de una trsite jornada, apaciguada por la pesada y encumbrada hermana de una muerte cercana .
Una pena traumada por el horrible venir de futuro deshecho en las calles desiertas de una ciudad alarmante por su ritmo incesasntee de sorpresa asfixiante .
Una pena producida por la ausencia de sentidos y motivos surgidos de deseos inactivos .
Una pena insaciable de amor ausente estirpado de una realidad alarmante y constante en un paseo desesperante .
teresa gejer

]]> By: Nicole Trione http://www.thirteen.org/9-11/#comment-2744 Nicole Trione Sun, 11 Sep 2011 21:36:11 +0000 http://www.thirteen.org/?page_id=5406#comment-2744 I was 12 years old when it happened. It was one of those days when people were going to work and school. I felt bad when it happend. I was 12 years old when it happened. It was one of those days when people were going to work and school. I felt bad when it happend.

]]> By: jenny burrill http://www.thirteen.org/9-11/#comment-2743 jenny burrill Sun, 11 Sep 2011 18:39:12 +0000 http://www.thirteen.org/?page_id=5406#comment-2743 The first few days, and weeks after September eleventh, two thousand and one, as thou i was floating, my steps became gentle, so tender and careful, as I walked down the sidewalks of my Brooklyn neighborhood. As if my soul, somewhere inside me could not bear the impact of stepping. Now ten years later, I wonder if also the earth itself was wounded in need of gentle vibration and healing. The first few days,
and weeks
after September eleventh, two thousand and one,
as thou i was floating,
my steps became gentle,
so tender
and careful,
as I walked
down the sidewalks
of my Brooklyn neighborhood.

As if
my soul,
somewhere
inside me
could not bear
the impact of stepping.

Now ten years later,
I wonder if also
the earth
itself
was wounded
in need of gentle vibration
and healing.

]]> By: Amonda Cooper http://www.thirteen.org/9-11/#comment-2741 Amonda Cooper Sun, 11 Sep 2011 02:57:29 +0000 http://www.thirteen.org/?page_id=5406#comment-2741 I remembered, I had the day off from work and, I was laying in bed deciding what to do with my day off. Suddenly, my father came into my room, telling me that a plane has crash into the World Trade Center. When I turned on the television, I was shocked. I couldn't believe my eyes on what was going on. Immediately, I grabbed my video camera and began to record the tragedy from my balcony window because at my old apartment, I see the Twin Towers. In the meantime, my father was trying to reach my mother on her job at Jersey City Main Post Office but, he couldn't get her. But eventually, she called him and told him picked her. Therefore, I went with him. I wanted to get a closer view of the event on camera. When we arrived on Grand Street, the police had the area closed off because the smoke from the Twin Towers had filled up the streets. I remembered the smoking being so thick that it was hard to see what was in it. But, we met my mother in the shopping plaza at the corner of Path Mart. Once she got in the car, my parents went to get my little sisters from school. During that time, I wanted to help out. I was willing to donate blood and volunteer but, my work schedule got in the way. Therefore, the best thing that I did was to offer my prayers for the victims and their families. Still, to this day, I still offer my prayers to the victims and their family. May God bless and keep you always.... I remembered, I had the day off from work and, I was laying in bed deciding what to do with my day off. Suddenly, my father came into my room, telling me that a plane has crash into the World Trade Center. When I turned on the television, I was shocked. I couldn’t believe my eyes on what was going on. Immediately, I grabbed my video camera and began to record the tragedy from my balcony window because at my old apartment, I see the Twin Towers. In the meantime, my father was trying to reach my mother on her job at Jersey City Main Post Office but, he couldn’t get her. But eventually, she called him and told him picked her. Therefore, I went with him. I wanted to get a closer view of the event on camera.
When we arrived on Grand Street, the police had the area closed off because the smoke from the Twin Towers had filled up the streets. I remembered the smoking being so thick that it was hard to see what was in it. But, we met my mother in the shopping plaza at the corner of Path Mart. Once she got in the car, my parents went to get my little sisters from school.
During that time, I wanted to help out. I was willing to donate blood and volunteer but, my work schedule got in the way. Therefore, the best thing that I did was to offer my prayers for the victims and their families. Still, to this day, I still offer my prayers to the victims and their family. May God bless and keep you always….

]]> By: Kevin F. Glynn http://www.thirteen.org/9-11/#comment-2739 Kevin F. Glynn Sat, 10 Sep 2011 19:42:50 +0000 http://www.thirteen.org/?page_id=5406#comment-2739 I was on the X27 bus from Brooklyn in the Battery Tunnel when a woman on a cell phone said a plane hit the Twin Towers. I told her that had to be wrong as it was a beautiful day, maybe it was a helicopter. The driver told us to get off the bus outside the tunnel on West St., just before 9:00 AM. I called my boss and said something terrible had happened and said a prayer. I turned to walk away and heard a woman scream. The second plane flew overhead and I turned and yelled NO! but could not hear myself. My heart broke as I saw the plane hit the South Tower. I ran and tried to take the Lex Subway but an undercover officer told me not to. I made a call to my Mom, telling her I loved her and to let my Girlfriend know I would meet her later on. I called again and heard that the Pentagon was hit. I remember seeing the plumes of smoke, heart breaking. I ran towards the Brooklyn Bridge and heard the explosion and saw smoke. I thought it was the Bridge. I waited for a ferry on Pier 11 and an elderly woman was crying so I held her as she cried. We got on a ferry, a young girl said the building collapsed as we rode in smoke. When the air cleared people clapped and I said "No, there it is." I only saw one Tower. I realized the Tower fell and my heart kept breaking. Getting off the ferry in Jersey City I saw two young girls all cut up without shoes and as I turned they were gone. I walked along the water, turned to my right and saw the other Tower fall. I was in disbelief. I got to a restaurant where they opened up their phones to everyone. My Girlfriend was able to get in touch with me and I met Her in Summit, running to a bus then took a train. I took a detox shower in the parking lot and drove to my Brother-in-Law's house. The Red Cross told me I was in shock. Driving back to Brooklyn was such an empty feeling. Months of F15 planes flying over Brooklyn, driving through the Battery Tunnel, passing by The Pile every morning. I prayed, cried, cursed. My heart goes out to my Cousin as she lost her husband. I also lost a childhood friend of mine and husband of an old friend. The only female Police Office killed lived around the block. I sat on my stoop the next day and spoke with my Cousin. She wanted to do something positive and had certainly done so. Nightmares were common for months, seeing all the dump trucks passing us in the tunnel, so angry, so heartbroken. We saw those buildings going up as kids. Project Liberty helped in the last six months of its program, I'm eternally grateful. My Brother, a Police Officer and an old friend, a Fire Fighter worked on The Pile in the aftermath. Thinking about September 11th breaks my heart to this day. PLEASE NEVER FORGET ALL THOSE LOST. I was on the X27 bus from Brooklyn in the Battery Tunnel when a woman on a cell phone said a plane hit the Twin Towers. I told her that had to be wrong as it was a beautiful day, maybe it was a helicopter. The driver told us to get off the bus outside the tunnel on West St., just before 9:00 AM. I called my boss and said something terrible had happened and said a prayer. I turned to walk away and heard a woman scream. The second plane flew overhead and I turned and yelled NO! but could not hear myself. My heart broke as I saw the plane hit the South Tower. I ran and tried to take the Lex Subway but an undercover officer told me not to. I made a call to my Mom, telling her I loved her and to let my Girlfriend know I would meet her later on. I called again and heard that the Pentagon was hit. I remember seeing the plumes of smoke, heart breaking. I ran towards the Brooklyn Bridge and heard the explosion and saw smoke. I thought it was the Bridge. I waited for a ferry on Pier 11 and an elderly woman was crying so I held her as she cried. We got on a ferry, a young girl said the building collapsed as we rode in smoke. When the air cleared people clapped and I said “No, there it is.” I only saw one Tower. I realized the Tower fell and my heart kept breaking. Getting off the ferry in Jersey City I saw two young girls all cut up without shoes and as I turned they were gone. I walked along the water, turned to my right and saw the other Tower fall. I was in disbelief. I got to a restaurant where they opened up their phones to everyone. My Girlfriend was able to get in touch with me and I met Her in Summit, running to a bus then took a train. I took a detox shower in the parking lot and drove to my Brother-in-Law’s house. The Red Cross told me I was in shock. Driving back to Brooklyn was such an empty feeling. Months of F15 planes flying over Brooklyn, driving through the Battery Tunnel, passing by The Pile every morning. I prayed, cried, cursed. My heart goes out to my Cousin as she lost her husband. I also lost a childhood friend of mine and husband of an old friend. The only female Police Office killed lived around the block. I sat on my stoop the next day and spoke with my Cousin. She wanted to do something positive and had certainly done so. Nightmares were common for months, seeing all the dump trucks passing us in the tunnel, so angry, so heartbroken. We saw those buildings going up as kids. Project Liberty helped in the last six months of its program, I’m eternally grateful. My Brother, a Police Officer and an old friend, a Fire Fighter worked on The Pile in the aftermath. Thinking about September 11th breaks my heart to this day. PLEASE NEVER FORGET ALL THOSE LOST.

]]> By: Patricia Olin Bryson http://www.thirteen.org/9-11/#comment-2738 Patricia Olin Bryson Sat, 10 Sep 2011 13:45:29 +0000 http://www.thirteen.org/?page_id=5406#comment-2738 On 9/11/01 I picked up my breakfast on the corner of 47th & 3rd from a coffee cart run by a Middle Eastern man who had spoken Persian in my presence to a friend at an earlier date. The coffee cart had been my go-to stop for 7 years and we, the proprietor and I had joked about the length of time. When I commented that my birthday was the following day, the proprietor said "Today is your birthday" in a sad tone. I went to my job across the street and watched the 2nd plane hit the towers on TV after being informed by a friend of the 1st attack. I knew in my being that the coffee cart man knew about the attack. He had also been in Germany before 9/1 "to visit his girlfriend". He disappeared again until the following year at a different site and then never again. When I questioned his replacement as to his whereabouts, I was told he had gone back to SCHOOL. I felt personally betrayed by someone I had considered a friend and have often wondered if he had been investigated. On 9/11/01 I picked up my breakfast on the corner of 47th & 3rd from a coffee cart run by a Middle Eastern man who had spoken Persian in my presence to a friend at an earlier date. The coffee cart
had been my go-to stop for 7 years and we, the proprietor and I had joked about the length of time.
When I commented that my birthday was the following day, the proprietor said “Today is your birthday”
in a sad tone. I went to my job across the street and watched the 2nd plane hit the towers on TV after
being informed by a friend of the 1st attack. I knew in my being that the coffee cart man knew about
the attack. He had also been in Germany before 9/1 “to visit his girlfriend”. He disappeared again
until the following year at a different site and then never again. When I questioned his replacement as to his whereabouts, I was told he had gone back to SCHOOL. I felt personally betrayed by someone I had considered a friend and have often wondered if he had been investigated.

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