Thursday, September 10, 2015

I will remember you.



It is like clockwork for me every year.  As soon as August approaches I develop an ache in my stomach that just sits there uncomfortably and grows slowly but surely a little bigger each day until finally September 11th has arrived.  It’s like my nemesis.  Sometimes it hurts to breathe, sometimes it affects my mood, sometimes it makes me eat less (or more), it adds for extra anxiety and sometimes it means that I just want to give/get a few more hugs.


And no matter how many times this dates passes it never really eases up.  It doesn't change or get easier.  It just is.  And each time it comes, it surprises me just how much time has passed since that beautiful horrific day 14 years ago.


Last year with the support of my 8th grade team and for the first time ever in my teaching career I found the courage to tell this story to my 8th grade students.  This is what I wrote for them...


"I was 21 years old in September of 2001.  I had just started my senior year at Columbia University in NYC.  I was a resident advisor (RA) living in a dorm with freshman and sophomores.  


I remember Tuesday September 11th 2001 as if it was yesterday.  It was a sunny, warm day in Manhattan, not a cloud in the sky.  Sometimes terrible things happen even in the most beautiful of moments.  I woke up that morning to my telephone ringing, my parents calling with frantic voices to ask if I’d heard the news. I turned on the tv and with horror watched the image that would become permanently stained in my brain.  The newscasters voices were trembling with shock and panic as they tried to make sense on national television of what was happening.  All we really saw was smoke everywhere surrounding the towers.  It wasn’t really clear what kind of plane had hit them…and why?


I went to class with a terrible pit in my stomach.  The university was in total chaos and after trying to sit in class for 5 minutes I left searching for comfort.  While in an elevator on campus I learned that the South tower of the World Trade Center had collapsed at 9:59 a.m. Less than 30 minutes later, at 10:28 a.m. the North tower of the World Trade Center fell as well.  This moment changed my life forever.  


My best friend, Josh (Joshua David Birnbaum) was 24 years old and had been working for Cantor Fitzgerald since May of 2001.  He was an assistant bond trader by day, dj by night. He was tall and funny and could light up a room just by walking into it.  He had been so proud to accept his offer at Cantor Fitzgerald, a company that was so big that their offices took up 5 floors of the North Tower.  That terrible day they lost 658 of the 960 employees. The people who were saved had either been sick at home or thankfully delayed in traffic.


I ran home from class and immediately called Josh’s mom (Marcel) who lives in Long Island.  Everyone in NYC was in panic that day calling to make sure that their loved ones were ok.  Because the cell phone towers had been based in the World Trade Center, most people could not use cell phones and much of the city’s internet was down.  Somehow, I managed to reach her.  I’ll never forget her words to me.  She said, “Leehe, he’s gone.  But I spoke to him.”  Somehow Josh had been one of the lucky few people inside the building who was able to get a line out.  He called his mother to tell her that he loved her and all his family. He called her to say goodbye.  And she, being one of the most courageous people that I know, told him to find someone to be with so that he wouldn’t be alone.


9/11 changed NYC in a way that I had never seen before and I probably will never see again.  For a city with so much life and energy and chaos it had fallen to its depths.  The streets were so quiet for so long.  It was an eerie silence.  The city and her people were in pain.  Everywhere you went, people were crying or in shock or just keeping to themselves.  And the only sound that was heard were the sirens and the trucks that drove back and forth day and night from Ground Zero through the city and out from the north, carrying debris and remains.  Downtown the areas around where the World Trade Center once stood the streets and parks were full of posters and people who were searching for their loved ones. Pictures, faces, quotes, statements of love- they were plastered everywhere.  My memories of the weeks after 9/11 are a little blurred because I was so deeply affected but I do remember attending vigils at night.  I remember lots of candles.  Poetry being read.  Tears.  Support from strangers.  And lots of love.  Firefighters and police were always working downtown, they were our heroes.  The ones who ran into the buildings that horrible morning when everyone else ran out.  And there were thousands of volunteers, people who donated blood, brought food, provided supplies, any small thing they could do to help.  


It took a long time to recover and rebuild.  It was hard and really scary.  The news was constantly replaying the events and there was so much fear about what if it would happen again?  The city went into immediate lockdown.  On 9/11 the bridges and tunnels were closed for protection and security purposes.  People who worked downtown walked uptown and walked across the bridges to try to get out of the city and get home.  The airports were closed for a long time too.  I remember that it took us a while before we felt comfortable riding the subway again. Loud noises were scary and people were suspicious of those around them.  For me, those first few weeks were very tough.  My parents couldn’t get to NYC for 2.5 weeks and eventually just my mom came.  A few of my friends were beyond wonderful.  They didn’t leave my side.  They were my pillars of support and I am forever thankful for them.  I slept in their dorm rooms for a while.  I was scared to be alone.  When I closed my eyes all I would see was a replay of what had happened.  At first there was hope of possibility that people could’ve survived.  I waited by the phone to hear news of Josh.  But positive news never came, not for me, not for his family, not for anyone. There was a memorial service for him on September 30th at a synagogue in Long Island.  


And as September rolled into October we really had to teach ourselves to live again.  To allow ourselves to laugh and participate in regular daily activities.  And to do so not only because in life thats what we do, we continue, but for the sake of all those New Yorkers who had been lost in the towers, for the people on the AA and United Airlines flights and those at the Pentagon who didn’t get to witness September 12th, 2001.  Josh’s grave has a quote on it from a poem called “Anyway” that hung in his bathroom.  It says, “what you spent years building they may destroy overnight, build anyway.”


September 11th changed who I was.  It’s never easy when you lose someone that you love. Especially when that person is young and had so much that they could’ve contributed and could’ve been.  That day, however, opened my eyes to the world and the community that I was a part of.  It made me take a closer look at the kind of person that I wanted to be.  Any fool can destroy or terrorize but it’s about being the bigger and better person who can rebuild and grow.  It’s about life and living it, not letting it pass you by.  9/11 has made me strive to be my best self and not only for me, I live every day for my best friend Josh, and the 2,976 other innocent victims whose lives were cut too early and whose stories were left unwritten...



And it’s true.  I do live for myself and for Josh.  I always have.  I carry my best friend with me everywhere I go... For me it has always been about remembering.  Remembering Josh.  Remembering who he was.  Remembering how he impacted people's lives.  Remembering the wonderful and supportive friend that he was.  Remembering his humor.  Remembering his smile.  Remembering his love of music.  Remembering the memories we made together.  Remembering the kind of bond you can create with another human being in this world.  Yet also remembering how fragile life can be.  I think we take it for granted at times.  Those moments and connections are so special.


So please join me.  Take a minute to remember with me.  Remember Josh.  Tell his story.  Carry a piece of it with you, so that his memory will live on forever.

And if you want to learn more about him,  Click here.





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