9-11-2001
Tuesday, September 11, 2001
September 3rd was Labor Day in 2001. I had been in NYC with my children and was due to return to San Francisco the following week on Tuesday. As often happens in NYC the weather turns beautiful when the calendar turns to the ninth month of the year. So, it was this year as we enjoyed the final week of summer. Tuesday the 11th was the first day of school. After saying goodbye to my son and daughter, I headed to JFK. Simon drove me to the airport as he had done many times in the past. I was a frequent flyer on American during its time as the premier business airline before it devolved into the excuse it is today. Customarily I would go straight to the Admirals’ Club to check-in for my flight to San Francisco. I knew the women who worked behind the desk. They were always helpful. Saying hello to Stephanie she told me she had checked me in and the flight was on time. I was early, sat down, and started to read the New York Times. I watched the monitor at what appeared to be an object hitting one of the towers of the World Trade Center. At that time many reporters were assuming it was a private aircraft that had gone terribly off course. At that moment Stephanie came up to me and said Mr. Steck the airport will be shutting down in the next few minutes. You will have to leave; I have rented you a car at Hertz. It was the last one, you need to go now. I would never see her again. Not because of some tragedy but because the world of travel would never be the same and the luxury of breezing up to the Admiral’s Club was gone forever. I arrived at the Hertz counter by bus, and indeed, I was given the last car in the parking lot. The immediate issue was where would I go? I was on an island as in Long Island – hence the name. All bridges, trains, roads, and airports were closed. I could not return to Manhattan although I could speak to my children, who were now safe at their mother’s home. Due to the extraordinary generosity of a dear friend, I was able to stay in a spectacular home on the beach in Sagaponack. Unless you were a permanent resident of Sagaponack, no one was traveling to the Hamptons. It was uniquely and beautifully quiet. A combination of guilt and ineptitude overtook me. Guilt because I was living in a beautiful place that was completely divorced from the reality that was unfolding 100 miles away. Inept because the world had stopped moving. Every day I would wait to speak to American Airlines to see if and when flights would resume. I would debate the idea of driving to San Francisco or taking the train. I was working by phone but even that was a challenge as, unlike today, there was no access to the platforms that have transformed the office into the home. Obviously, we have recovered and moved forward, but we are not the same. Many of us cannot recover and all of us should remember.
Tragedies are localized. In the middle of these horrible world events, so many of us are just far enough away to not be affected. The movie Casablanca had very little to do with history or reality except it is a dramatization of people who live a markedly different life in the middle of a world crisis. The current pandemic is an example of how chaos and crisis are very localized. Covid becomes real when a friend is sick or dies. However, for those untouched, mask-wearing and social distancing become a political issue.
On this 20th anniversary of the attacks on the US, I am remembering how I spent those days attached to the horror through phone and television while walking the beach on a spectacular fall day. I am reminded of the need to have and develop a keen sense of empathy for those that live in the eye of the storm. We cannot all live the same challenges, experience the same sadness, but we can acknowledge the truth of others’ struggles. We can embrace the truth of the other man’s challenge, seek understanding and help when and where we are able.
Blessings