Long Islanders remember September 11

'I walked through the and inhaled' the dust

I’m a retired chief in the New York City Sheriff’s Office. On 9/11, I was a sergeant working in Jamaica, Queens, who responded to the attack. After standing on the corner of Church and Vesey streets hours after the towers fell that day and working around the city in the days that followed, I wrote this:

“Where are they? No bodies to recover. No personal belongings to identify. No closure. I know where they are. They’re in my heart and my blood. I was there on September 11, 2001. I walked through the carnage and inhaled that terrible dark cloud of death and despair. That funeral pyre of smoke and ash carried within it the lives and loves and stories and jokes of all of those lost souls. I’ve seen their photos and the messages of love and longing from their friends and families: from their parents and their wives and most heart-wrenching of all, from their children.

The bravery of those who gave their lives for strangers lives within me. It pumps through my veins with every beat of my heart. The tears of their agony flow from my eyes. The sweat of their labors soaks my clothes and chills me to the bone. Where are they? They will live on in all of us.”

I’ve endeavored since to be the best person that I can be, because I feel I owe it to them all.

— Thomas Doyle, Glen Cove

‘Our sense of security as a country changed’

My brother, FDNY firefighter George C. Cain, was murdered on 9/11. Our lives were greatly impacted. Not only by the obvious loss of my beloved brother, but in so many ways.

The world changed, also. Our sense of security as a country changed. New security protocols have helped ease that anxiety, but it’s never enough.

We cannot allow our country and the borders to be open to anyone.

I know that sounds harsh, but look at what happened when the terrorists weren’t properly vetted. They came into the country using different visas, and then they hijacked airplanes and murdered thousands of innocent Americans.

My three children were very young at the time, elementary age, and now they are adults with children of their own. I never want my kids or my grandchildren to go through what my family has gone through, and yet I cannot be certain that it won’t happen again.

I pray that we have learned a big lesson from that awful day, and our leaders who are elected to protect us and our country will always be vigilant and keep us safe. God bless us all and especially the 9/11 families for their losses and sacrifices.

— Nancy K. Nee, Holbrook

‘As parents, we all struggled’

The tragedy of 9/11 revealed the worst and best of our nation.

At the time, my then 5-year-old was playing little league football.

One of his coaches, John, a New York City firefighter, was a victim that fateful day.

As parents, we all struggled with how to help our children navigate the emotions and impact of the events. Age was certainly a factor in that support.

In an effort to memorialize the events, we picked up Time and Newsweek magazines, thinking they would be valuable to help us talk through the aftermath with both boys.

About a week later, on a quiet Sunday morning before the boys started getting ready for game day, I saw my youngest deliberately go through every page.

He was not just flipping the pages, he was pausing on each page to study it. Clearly, he was not reading.

I asked him, “Hey kid, what are you doing with those magazines?”

To this day, his reply brings a tear to my eye:

“I am looking for coach John.”

Never forget!

— Adam Feinberg, Oceanside

For LIers, ‘it’s still personal’

Sept. 11 was a national tragedy for all Americans, but for those of us living close to New York City, it was personal.

There are so many stories of near misses, of trauma, of devastating loss.

I was teaching at a middle school in Kings Park, about 60 miles from what came to be known as Ground Zero. Sixty miles, and yet when I arrived at school several days after Sept. 11, I could still smell the towers burning.

Early on the morning of Sept. 11, a morning which had started out as a glorious early-autumn day, a colleague stopped me in the hall.

“Did you hear that an airplane crashed into one of the Twin Towers?” she asked.

After teaching my next class, I walked down to the teachers’ lounge and joined a group of colleagues to watch the news coverage.

By this time, the second plane had hit. We hunched around the television, our group of teachers holding on to one another, wiping away tears.

One young teacher sobbed in great gulps, overcome with anguish.

Her brother was a New York City firefighter and she knew in her gut that he would be there, taking part in the rescue effort. And she was right.

The young teacher’s father, also a firefighter, would find his son’s body in the rubble several days later, and carry him out for burial.

In 2026, we continue to bury Long Islanders who have succumbed to illnesses due to their bravery at Ground Zero.

So yes, for those of us living on Long Island, it’s still personal.

— Diane Zoeller, Bay Shore

Country’s ‘worst day’

I remember being at work and getting called that my Uncle Nick was missing. My family gathered at Uncle Nick’s apartment where my brothers and I proceeded to walk around downtown talking to the Red Cross and searching hospitals and shelters.

My brothers and I pounded pavement for a couple of weeks to no avail. I remember walking down FDR Drive by the East River and seeing all the refrigerator trucks waiting to store bodies but they were empty. We had a memorial for Nick and attended many of them. This day will never be forgotten. In my opinion, it was the worst day in American history. On the 25th year of this tragedy let’s remember those who perished and those who spent months looking for our family members.

— James Moran, Levittown

‘We need to somehow find those unifying properties once again’

Sept. 11 changed the iconic skyline of New York City forever. For those of us old enough to remember beloved movies like “Moonstruck” and “Saturday Night Fever,” memories of how the skyline looked before 9/11 are brought back to life. These movie images of the Twin Towers touch our hearts and our yearnings for what once was.

The feeling of safety we once took for granted was forever altered. The way we attended stadiums and arenas and prepared to travel all changed.

On Sept. 11, 2001, I was a currency broker on the 84th floor of the south tower. We were the second building to get hit and the first to collapse. When the plane struck the north tower, I was at my desk and speaking to a good friend on the phone from Cantor Fitzgerald. I was the last person to speak to him. I could see fire and debris filling the air above the clouds. My only instinct was to get out of that building. Unfortunately, not everyone followed. We lost over 60 co-workers. I somehow chose the correct staircase which allowed me to get all the way out. We saw the brave members of the FDNY walk up the stairs into that horror.

Somehow, I made it home to East Williston. I have had the lucky pleasure to see my children grow. Many of my friends and colleagues were not so fortunate. I walked my daughter down the aisle at her wedding, I met my incredible son-in-law, and I have witnessed my son turn into an extremely funny professional comedian. When he talks about that day he says how he remembers that I was somehow there when they were dismissed from school. I witnessed the strength of my wife who for several hours didn’t hear from anyone. She shielded our kids from what might have been. She supported our neighbors. She lifted me to Sept. 12 and beyond which I never would have made it without her.

Those watching from home experienced a trauma too often forgotten. The image of the sky in the days that followed seemed to photocopy the morning of Sept. 11. The beautiful shade of blue that we all loved somehow became attached to my tragedy. I didn’t really comprehend the magnitude of the lives lost until Euro Brokers met at a midtown hotel a week later and I saw who wasn’t there. The guilt of surviving was ever present. The need to attend memorials was excruciating.

Returning to work was very difficult. There were far too many empty seats. I was torn between my career and survival. I needed a new story. I left the high-powered, high-pressure and financially rewarding world of Wall Street and began an entirely different journey. The next chapter brought me to Shelter Rock Elementary School in Manhasset, a community that was hit extremely hard. I began my internship to become a teacher. I was embraced by the faculty and the community in ways that will always bring tears to my eyes. Ironically, this was the school where my friend, from that final conversation on 9/11, sent his children to school. I was blessed to become a small part of their lives while we all tried to make sense of the world we now lived in.

For the last 22 years, I have been lucky once again. I have been a math teacher at Roosevelt High School. I was again embraced by the students and the community. I have seen doctors, lawyers, teachers and business owners pass through my classroom doors. After my family, this community saved me. I have been invited into their lives, and trusted with their most precious commodity. I only hope that I did half as much for them as they did for me.

My kids and I will participate in the Tunnels to Towers race in September. It is a great opportunity to remember, and share both grief and hope.

Sept. 11 brought a togetherness and welcoming spirit to our country. With the 25th anniversary approaching, we need to somehow find those unifying properties once again.

— William E. Wickes, East Williston