9.11.2001 We who lived through this horrific day have specific memories. As I was writing my sixth book, Whispering Woods, published two months ago, I recalled this scene with a family whose entire lifestyle was affected by this disaster, as were the lives of the 3000 who were sacrificed to terrorism that day, their friends and families, their businesses, and their entire lifestyles. We grieve still. The Baxter family lived and worked very close to the World Trade Center buildings. Their businesses were destroyed, their condo was destroyed. This is chapter 6. The night before, Phil and Cathy were shown a PowerPoint presentation of property which ultimately would become the Whispering Woods Estates Resort and Retreat Center, their new business and the central focus of a series of books. This, then, is the account of 9.11 from their perspective.
CHAPTER 6
“The fear of the Lord leads to life; then one rests content, untouched by trouble.” (Proverbs 19:23)
Tuesdays always seem to run smoother than Mondays at the Baxter house. Grandma Jean makes pancakes, so everyone eagerly dashes to the kitchen, dressed and ready, answering the beckoning aroma of crisp bacon. Yummy!
After their prayer for the day, called to the sizzle of batter on the hot griddle and giggles, Jean makes Mickey Mouse-shaped kids’ pancakes complete with a bow tie for Michael’s Mickey and hair ribbons for Kelsey’s Minnie.
Jean remembers. Deirdre and Frankie had loved Disney pancakes back in the day. Funny how little things like that push her memories to some 25 years ago. Funny? Maybe not funny. Maybe odd. After the present-day children are fully engaged in their breakfast treat, Phil is ready to ask Jean about her weekend plans.
“Jean,” he gets her attention. “We’re thinking about taking a trip this weekend up toward Great Barrington. Thought you might like to come along, especially if we stop to see your kids in Pine Plains. Whadythink? Do you think you can get away?”
Jean, eager anytime for adventure answers, “Can’t think of anything I’d rather do!” Perhaps sometime during the weekend she’ll have time to tell her employers about her housing crisis, looming ever closer. She knows she’ll have to make a decision soon.
“You mean we can stop to see Frankie and Judy?” she asks with tears in her doe-brown eyes. “That’s just wonderful! I know it’s only been three months since I’ve seen them, but that’s a long time when there’s no Bernie around to hug.”
“Sure, we’ll plan lunch there, how’s that?”
Hiding her tears, Jean turns the Scripture calendar page. The heading reads: TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 11 JEREMIAH 29: 11-12: “‘11 For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future, declares the Lord’.”
Wow, I need that today, for sure. Thanks, Lord for the message! Even though it was meant for Jeremiah, I need to hear it today. Thanks, Lord. You speak to me when I most need to hear You. Now it’s time to get this show on the road yet one more day like all the others. Watch the clock. Keep life harmonious. That’s my mission! And thanks, Lord, for Friday’s trip! You’re so good to me! Amen.”
Today Phil and Cathy walk hand-in-hand toward the Trade Center Metro station, chatting excitedly about what could be a life-changing decision they are about to make. The day seems full of promise at 8:00 on that beautiful September eleventh morning.
Until… Cathy is just finishing these verses in Psalm 31:
14 I trust in you, Lord; I say, “You are my God.”
15 My times are in your hands; deliver me from the
hands of my enemies, from those who pursue me.
16 Let your face shine on your servant; save me in
your unfailing love.17 Let me not be put to shame,
Lord, for I have cried out to you;
But let the wicked be put to shame and be silent in
the realm of the dead.18 Let their lying lips be
silenced, for with pride and contempt they speak
arrogantly against the righteous.
19 How abundant are the good things that you have
stored up for those who fear you, That you bestow
in the sight of all, on those who take refuge in you.
20 In the shelter of your presence you hide them from
all human intrigues; you keep them safe in your
dwelling from accusing tongues.
21 Praise be to the Lord, for he showed me the
wonders of his love when I was in a city under
siege.
22 In my alarm I said, “I am cut off from your sight!”
Yet you heard my cry for mercy when I called to
you for help.
23 Love the Lord, all his faithful people!
The Lord preserves those who are true to him,
but the proud he pays back in full.
24 Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the
Lord.
She begins to pray. Looking out the office window to the west; she sees, to her horror, a low-flying airliner crash into World Trade Center #1.
With a shout, she alerts the others who come running to see flames shooting from a cavernous hole. Almost in slow motion, it seems to them, a few minutes later, a second plane flies into slightly lower floors of Trade Center Tower #2.
Gasps and tears and shouts and exclamations of pain and unbelief erupt. This is no accident, they realize! Have they really witnessed what they think they’ve seen? Their minds begin to grasp the horror, and it is deeply felt. While they don’t want to see what they’re seeing, they stare, transfixed, unable to process what might be, what could be, what is, what will be.
Moans, tears, shouts. Silence. Each viewer reacts differently to the horror enveloping their senses, penetrating their very souls.
By now billowing smoke pours from the buildings. Immediately, Cathy calls Phil, whose office is slightly to the north. Someone flips on the TV, almost as affirmation of the disaster their own eyes see. Keenly aware of unfolding drama unlike anything they’ve seen, even seasoned commentators gasp, struggling to make sense of tragedy in the making. Phil’s first thought is safety. He calls Jean and tells her to get the children as far away as she can, but to keep in touch with him.
Jean has just dropped Michael off at school. Grabbing Kelsey, Grandma Jean quickly returns to PS 234. As sirens scream, the principal and teachers are quickly alerted to evacuate the building and walk the children to PS 41 in Greenwich Village. Grandma Jean helps the teachers evacuate the children several blocks away where they can be more confident of the children’s safety. She calls Cathy to tell her where they’ll be, and that they are safe.
“Grandma Jean, Grandma Jean. What’s wrong? Why are we going? Grandma Jean. How will Mommy find us?” Michael cries.
“There’s a fire nearby, little ones. Mommy and Daddy know where we are. Be really brave and listen to your teacher, O.K.? I need you to walk quickly with me and keep an eye on Kelsey and your friends, all right? Remember, God loves us and will keep us safe.”
By then, around 10:00, smoke billows, papers litter the streets, and a cacophony of sirens’ sounds blast their ears. Herding several hundred children is no small task, but danger brings an adrenaline rush which proves just the energetic push they need. That and a real need for getting away from what is becoming a chaotic scene. No place for children! Their street is quickly cordoned off. Police vehicles stand ready to keep everyone away from what is developing into a major crisis.
Both Phil and Cathy’s offices close for the day as workers scramble to get to their loved ones. Forget the subways; no service. Phil immediately calls Roberts, orders him to get to Cathy’s office and get her to PS 41 to comfort the children.
After heroic efforts, using every bit of his vast knowledge of streets and alleys to accomplish that task, Roberts then makes his way to Phil’s office to rescue him too. The family is reunited, but told by police to stay put at PS 41. That will likely be their shelter until further notice.
Frantically hoping her cell still works, Cathy calls her dad’s number a third time. If he is at work at World Trade Center # 7, he is in danger and she knows it. If he is at home, literally across the street, he is in danger. She just has to reach him. She just has to!
She and Phil stand outside the cafetorium door, away from the children for just a minute, and bow in prayer for those affected by this disaster, their friends and colleagues, the rescuers, the leaders of government, but most especially, for Dad Goddard. They are not alone.
Millions turn to God this morning. Millions pray for safety of their loved ones. Millions now watch in horror as disaster after disaster strikes. The Pentagon? Perhaps Washington? Pennsylvania? Aghast, they live it in virtual slow-motion. Their brains just can’t process it all at the same time. It is so real, yet something a horror movie could pretend. Nothing vicarious about this scene. They smell the acrid smoke. They are dusted by debris, even ten blocks away. Their lives are already topsy-turvy, and every raw emotion emerges. They know life will never be the same.
But, they, like other resilient New Yorkers, resolve to make the best of an awful situation. Vowing to keep their children away from television coverage, Phil and Cathy put on brave faces and help the beleaguered teachers entertain the children in their new surroundings. They even step in, assisting cafeteria workers preparing meals for their usual students plus hundreds of newcomers.
Roberts is put to work carrying dazed walkers to safety on ferry boats, to the Liberty Park in lower Manhattan, and helping first responders get as close as possible to the site. The impressive Hummer limo, pride of Phil’s life and his, is covered with layers of dust and ash, and is now packed with riders who look more like ghosts than the well-put-together workers who usually inhabit Wall Street and the classy workplaces in the area. Only when the gas tank is noticeably heading for the red does he return to PS 41 area, joining with others who were caring for little ones away from home. He has done a yeoman’s task, as many others have done, on this eventful day.
Later, Phil calls the Super at their residence, anxious to know if the building has sustained damage, whether the power is on, inquiring about the possibility of returning home. Maxwell tells him the streets are closed off, littered inches deep with refuse from the building collapses, and that thick toxic smoke envelops the entire area. Phil wisely decides to keep his family safely where they are, and requests that someone be dispatched to the penthouse to feed Pixie. Max assures him that generators allow the elevators to work, and that he will personally attend to Pixie’s safety as long as he needs to, until the family can return. He promises to give a return call with an assessment of the situation, assuming the phone service allows.
Max will, as usual, protect their assets, although he soon discovers, the penthouse balconies are strewn with refuse and layers of debris. The patio furniture is scattered and buried; the plantings destroyed. The twelve foot windows are cracked and blistered; two huge ones facing the Trade Center Towers are absent altogether, allowing lateral explosion debris to enter the condo. Thank God, no fire, but even bright chrome is dulled by powdery dust. Charred papers litter the floors and every surface, looking so very out of place. The contrast is amazing; ultra modern and an almost archeological dig site, a complete oxymoronic scene greets his visit to the east-facing façade of the condo. What a mess! He’ll have to get some heavy duty tarps up here in a hurry.
He calls at five o’clock, after trying for literally a half-hour to get through. Phil is in the process of serving a quickly-cooked meal to the hundreds who have gathered at the school shelter. He steps off the line to hear from Max the news about their home. Max reports that the streets are barricaded, credentials are necessary to prove pedestrians live on the blocks beyond the checkpoints, and access to the entire area is cordoned off and blockaded. His neighbors and hundreds of other New Yorkers have no IDs, their things left behind as they ran for their lives. Max keeps Phil’s contact information and urges them to find another place to stay. The events of the day are creating havoc for area workers, residents, businesses, both here, and indeed throughout the world.
Dismissing Roberts, Phil tells him he’ll need the Hummer for the next week or so. They all join hundreds of others displaced by this tragedy, wondering if life will ever return to normal, knowing that it never will.
Phil calls J.S., finally reaching him at his Garden City home. He had planned to spend the day in the city. Was just about to take the LIRR in to Grand Central. Like that was going to happen. Good thing he caught the news before he left. No way would he stay to watch New York burn.
So what are his options? Stay put and watch in horror as his assets and his friends’ businesses at the Trade Center disappear? His buddies stand to lose millions today. Millions. Option #2. Get outta there. So J.S. hopes to get permission to fly to Whispering Woods in his private helicopter, but as of the moment, all flights of any type are grounded. Who ever heard of such a thing? What are they thinkin’? There are even more planes out there tryin’ to wreak havoc?
They set a date to visit Whispering Woods the next afternoon, assuming they can all drive north. J.S. is hoping to fly. Takes hours off the trip. Regardless, he’ll meet them at Whispering Woods at 2:30 on Wednesday, by any means necessary. For certain, the exodus has begun. Thousands of New Yorkers, worried that the City is under attack, are finding any means possible to leave it all behind.
The family leaves with just the clothes on their backs, drives up the West Side Highway northward with thousands of their fellow New Yorkers, and like a long grey line of retreat in any previous battle on record, leaves the scene of the worst national terrorist disaster in history behind them. The children just think they are taking another of many frequent vacations.
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