i'm often asked about my 9/11 story.
i've never before written about it.
i don't know, it feels somehow too upsetting to recall.
too soon... or something.
but it's actually been 10 years and if i don't write about it now, i may forget..
no. i won't forget. but it's better to keep a record, no?
here we go...
i've never been afraid of the city.
even when my dad would take me to nyc as a kid, he'd throw me a subway token (vintage, i know) and i'd shoot down to prince street while he was in meetings as long as i promised i wouldn't tell my mom.
the city was always safe and the people were nice.
in mid-august 2001, i returned to my mid-town apartment after doing "joseph..."
in Boston, ready to begin my junior year at NYU.
something wasn't right.
suddenly, i was terrified of the city. it felt scary and dark and i had an inexplicable feeling to leave.
so i did...
on a "feeling," i left nyc, and enrolled at BYU for the fall 2001 semester.
on September 11th, 2001, i was sitting in a 7:00 am Sociology class (7 am?! i was a lunatic). my phone was on silent and buried deeply in my bag (cause why would i monitor it at 7 am- ain't nobody calling me at that hour...).
after class, i picked up my phone to find over 20 voice messages. i knew something bad had happened.
the first message i listened to was from my closest friend/mentor, Syd Riggs. she told me that something terrible had happened in nyc and i needed to get home as soon as possible.
the next 5 messages were from my parents telling a terrorist attack had happened in nyc and to come home because at that time, no one knew if an attack would be country-wide.
i all but ran thru the Wilkenson center (byu's student center) and dodged fellow students parked in front of the many televisions broadcasting the news.
i saw smoke.
i saw chaos.
i saw my city in distress.
i raced home and collapsed into my parents arms. we all sat on the couch and watched all the news footage while i wept.
not only was i worried about my friends and the families of all of the people missing and killed, but i felt guilty for not being there. for not sharing in that experience.
i also saw my dreams come to a crashing end. i had spent my entire life creating a skill set that could be useful on broadway...but would there be a broadway? would our world/my business ever be the same?
no one knew. i felt completely helpless.
my dear friend, david osmond, came over (he'd just lived in nyc with me the previous semester) and we watched more footage as i frantically tried to get a hold of all of my friends in nyc.
no dice..... phone lines were tied up.
i just had to wait. and wait. and wait.
that evening my UT friends all gathered together and we forced David to sing patriotic songs....
more tears.
but we felt united. we felt proud to be american. i felt proud to be a new yorker- and in a way, i felt sure that none of my utah friends could understand what i was going thru. this changed my entire life.
as the days went by, i located all of my friends.
i didn't lose anyone i knew directly in the attacks. i avoided the most direct pain. and again, for that, i felt guilty.
why did i get to avoid it all?
probably because i wasn't strong enough to have been able to take it.
probably because i would have been in a 7 am ballet class downtown and i (without a solid base or family in nyc) would have melted down without someone immediate to turn to.
i don't know why that happened. i only know that i was not supposed to be in nyc on september 11th.
i returned to nyc after that fall semester and my city was forever changed.
but in many ways, it was changed for the softer.
i've always said new yorkers are the kindest, most helpful people on earth, but this went to another level.
new yorkers were more patient (which didn't last too long ;).
new yorkers were more quietly proud.
you know, it takes a special breed of person to survive in nyc.
it's not an easy place to live and you have to have fight, chutzpah, bravado, and moxy to thrive.
and after 9/11, in the worlds melting pot, new yorkers found one thing in common:
their fight.
new york was united in the simple fact they were new yorkers.
and that is something no terrorist can take away.
and so, on this 10th anniversary, i pause to remember what that day meant to me as an american, but mostly as a new yorker.
i'm proud of my city.
i'm proud of my country.
i'm proud of the men and women who fight and give their lives so that i can live in a restored city that had a broadway to go back to.
i am thankful to them for the opportunity do do what i love and fulfill my dreams.
i { heart } new york.
i will never forget.
