I am going through old blog posts and writings today and came across this piece I wrote one year after 9/11. Thought I would reshare. Enjoy!
September 11, 2002
One Year Later
Today marks one full year. One year since thousands of innocent lives were lost, and the world as we knew it changed forever.
New York City has long been the subject of stereotypes—loud, impatient, fast-paced, unapologetically bold. We’re known for our yellow taxis, crowded streets, unforgettable accents, dirty subways, and towering skyline. But there’s so much more beneath the surface.
I grew up in New York. My childhood was a blur of concrete playgrounds and street games—red rover, lemonade stands, big wheels, and cardboard breakdance mats. I never envied the swing sets or grassy backyards across the river in New Jersey. This city was my playground.
One of my clearest memories is riding the subway into Manhattan. As the train glided over the bridge, the skyline would appear—and every time, it took my breath away. The Twin Towers stood above it all, unmistakable, iconic, untouchable.
I remember the first time I saw them up close. I was so small I had to grip my father’s arm just to tilt my head back far enough to take them in. They were giants—silent, silver giants—with a pulse of their own. People streamed in and out constantly, on their way to work, to lunch, to meetings. Life buzzing all around them, never imagining the unthinkable: that one day, those towers would fall.
Over the years, I grew up with them. Eventually, I worked in the North Tower myself. But even then, walking towards them every morning, that sense of awe never faded. I still felt small beside them, still had to steady myself when I looked up. They weren’t just buildings. They were part of my life—like two silent siblings who had always been there.
They were part of every New Yorker’s life.
And then, one year ago today, they were gone. Two structures that took years to build collapsed in under 60 seconds, taking with them thousands of lives. The very people I used to watch as a child—rushing in and out like New Yorkers do—vanished in an instant.
In just one minute, the skyline was changed. In one minute, hearts broke. In one minute, everything shifted.
Even with a year behind us, the pain feels fresh. I woke up today feeling the same shock, sadness, and anger I felt that morning. Every time I return to the city and see the hole in the skyline, my heart sinks. Every time I hear a victim’s story, my chest tightens.
I feel sorrow. I feel rage. I feel fear. My heart aches for the families still grieving—parents, siblings, children, spouses. So many of the victims were just starting out.
Laura Angiletta, 23, fresh out of college at her new job at Cantor Fitzgerald. Paul Battaglia, 22, working at Marsh & McLennan. Jude Safi, 25, also at Cantor. Robert Tipaldi, 25, same firm. They walked the same streets I did. They chased the same dreams. They felt the same awe, walking toward those towers each day.
Today feels hollow without them. New York feels hollow without the towers. I will carry their memory, and the memory of those towers, and the memory of who we were before September 11, 2001.
I’m proud of where I come from. Proud of our grit, our chaos, our subway grime and short tempers. Proud of the resilience, the way we came together, the way we honored the fallen. No matter where life takes me, I’ll always be a New Yorker at heart.
There is no better place in the world to come from.
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