On the morning of Sept. 11, 2001, I was sitting at my desk at work. As I edited a mayor's letter for an economic resource guide we were working on for Jersey City, N.J., I got a call from one of my writers. Her voice sounded fearful and I didn't know why. When she explained what she was seeing on TV, I couldn't believe what she was describing.
Meanwhile, the people in Jersey City were watching the horrific events unfold across the Hudson River. The twin towers had been the focal point of the New York City skyline that Jersey City residents saw from across the water every day. Now these seemingly indestructible buildings, these symbols of American wealth and power, were burning and collapsing with human beings inside.
The days immediately after 9/11 were strange. Everything seemed quieter. While my rational side told me my building would not be attacked, I felt grateful to be working in a first-floor office anyway.
Three days after the attacks, I wanted to back out of the dinner plans my husband and I had made with friends. Although I didn't know anyone who perished in the attacks of 9/11, I was saddened, outraged and frightened by the events. I didn't feel like going out. We went anyway, and the restaurant hostess invited everyone outside for a candlelit tribute to the attack victims.
In the weeks that followed, I looked through the layout for the Jersey City guide. I asked the artist to remove any photos of the World Trade Center and replace them with something else. I reworded a sentence that talked about the explosive growth of business in Jersey City. It didn't seem right to use the word "explosive" when talking about a place so close to one of the attack sites.
Today, when I see images of the twin towers in old movies or TV shows, it's still hard to believe the towers aren't there anymore. And harder yet to imagine the loss that victims' loved ones must still be feeling years later.
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