Stirring the pot, raising hell and rearing children in the Bay Area

Manic Memories

Posted on Sep 11, 2009 in Family and Friends |

United We Stand

United We Stand


For hours on September 11, we didn’t know where my brother was — phone lines were down, of course — and New York under siege. My brother, a bond trader, could have easily perished on September 11. Eight years ago today I prayed with every ounce of myself. I went to my home office, turned off the lights and knelt down, my great-grandmother’s rosary in my hands. I prayed in the dark for hours.

The manic memories from that day and the days that followed with him — racing away from the Empire State Building with my mom screaming at my brother in the phone, “RUN SON!” when there was a thread of another attack there — are ones I will never forget as long as I live. For days, we camped out in my livingroom, sleeping on a mattress on the floor, unable to sleep and fixated by the images on every TV station in the nation.

My brother was married last week. His best man was a friend he was with on September 11 while we prayed in the dark, someone knew he was alive. There’s something painful and precious in knowing that he was a-okay — today, I couldn’t be more grateful.