Ten years on, and the horror of those images still hasn't dimmed for me. I also admit that despite my best liberal intentions and the fact that both my brother and husband get stopped for extra security due to racial profiling, feel nervous when I see certain sorts of men boarding my flights. I don't want to, and I know its wrong, but I still do.
Today has also, tragically become one of those seminal life moments, where everyone can remember where they were when they heard the news, the last time they were in NYC before it happened and what they did after.
Me?
I had just started my articling year at FMC, we were on the 54th floor of a building on Bay street in Toronto learning how to to bill our hours into the firm financial system. I was struggling to pay attention and understand it. When they news came, I remember us getting a break and milling around, on the ground floor of the building where all the TV were. Usually these screens had the tickers going for the TSX, that morning, hushed groups of confused people stood around, watching and waiting.
Eventually, as planes began to be diverted all over and the Pentagon was hit, we were all sent home. And I remember taking a streetcar up to my new apartment on the Danforth, looking out at the city and feeling aimless and lost. And then calling my Mom who always my touchstone when I reached home, for reassurance.
I don't remember anything else about what I did that day.
A piece that R wrote about his experiences that day - written pre-Reva.
No comments:
Post a Comment