Caterwauling

I didn’t want to write about 9/11. But as I binge-watch brand-new specials on the History Channel, just like I was glued to the news 15 years ago, it occurs to me how much work has changed. 

Like I said in my last post, 9/11 is like our BC/AD line. 

For me, a near-immediate move to D.C. made sense. I drove past the blackened wing of the Pentagon until they rebuilt it. The new facade was a starkly different shade than the rest of the building.

Over time, it got weathered and the average commuter would never see the difference. But we knew where the wreckage was. 

You don’t drive up 395 and not have it haunt your subconscious. Especially when the world is focused on NYC. 

Then, I worked with people who selflessly booked trips to NYC to offer therapy to the first responders. 

Now, I work with people who worked in the Twin Towers, on the NYSE, had buddies who died because they worked at Cantor Fitzgerald and other financials. I see the footage now and I scan for familiar faces. Because they were there. 

Work changed post-9/11. Dress codes loosened. If there’s a fireball flying at you, sneakers and jeans should appal no one. Working from home beats not being able to get to work at all. 

I know people who couldn’t be on time if they tried. I was always in early and out late. But the early birds at the Pentagon and the Towers were fucked. Wish we could know the ratio of bosses to workers who showed up on time. 

My friend Shan and I, our conversations are well-documented on this 15-year-old blog. 

We ached for the poor saps who were unhappy but dragged themselves in each day. Who had dreams they weren’t chasing that day. Who didn’t get to chase them eventually. 

We ached for those who died doing what they loved. That their passion and talent only took them to their deathbed. But we respected the hell out of them. 

Basically we just wanted to do more than tolerate life. To have passion and joy and respect and love. We wanted to open our own business. I’m pretty sure I still have our handwritten plans. 

We haven’t done it yet. We still talk but not as much. We still have dreams. But they feel so much bigger than they did back then. 

I’m thinking of her today. Not going to call. But happy that 9/11 caused us both to job-switch and end up in the same company on the same day. 

That’s how I prefer to remember this day. Even if my posts of years past say otherwise. 🙂

15 years since that tragic Tuesday morning. I have nothing new to say. But judging by Facebook, everybody else does. 

Never forget, they say. As if. So, social media blackout today. 

Of course if you think about it, today’s high schoolers either weren’t born yet or were too little to understand. Your average freshman was still gestating at this point. 

God. Can you remember life before 9/11? It’s like the BC/AD line of modern times. 

For me, this marks 15 years since I bought my first car, tossed my Calico kitty in the backseat, left town and never looked back. I didn’t know where life would lead, as long as it was anywhere else. 

Funny how I never really lost that feeling, no matter where I ended up. 

I was an executive. I left to become a journalist. Figured I was a hard worker and would reclaim that title in no time. 

Lol. 

I’m healthier now, physically. Not sure if I’ll ever be as spiritually light as I was in my 20s. But I’m not getting drunk and scarfing down pizza and diner food to fill the hours. 

Like today, I put on my bathing suit top and took a walk rather than nursing my pre-911 hangovers with vodka. 

I even fit into a new pair of shorts I got yesterday for eight bucks. 

I still hope I’ll amount to something professionally. But I don’t mind having time to get a tan, either. 

Here’s to another 15 years of being ok.