Readers' reflections on September 11

Could have been 'much stronger and united'

The aftermath of 9/11 was a lost opportunity for this country to be much stronger and united. For a very brief time, we grieved, suffered and consoled each other despite differences in race, ethnicity, religion and politics. At the time, the feeling was we had taken a quantum leap in our tolerances and respect toward each other.

Who would believe the shelf life of this would expire in so short a time. We are more divided politically. We are angrier in our discourse, in some cases misinformed, and less patient with our differences. We attack the person, not the ideas.

The sadness is that we could have been better as a country, but regressed to our darker side.

— Tony Giametta, Oceanside

'9/11 made me aware of the most important things in life'

I was working on the 53rd floor of 2 World Trade Center for an insurance firm that rented floors in both towers.

I arrived at work a little after 8 a.m. and called my colleague Dan Nolan, who worked on the 95th floor of Tower One to discuss a project.

I began to set up a classroom that had no windows for a training session when the first plane struck Tower One.

As employees began to descend the 53 flights of stairs to the lobby, the second plane struck our building between floors 77 and 85.

I was in a stairwell on the 39th floor when that plane hit, and it rocked the building. People fell and others screamed, but we all got up and kept moving.

I wondered if Dan was hurt, and I also thought of another friend named Bill Peterson who worked in Tower One. I wouldn’t find out until a few days later that they both had died.

When I got outside, I rushed to the South Street Seaport where my wife worked.

We were outside her building when Tower Two collapsed and the dust overcame us. I had escaped with about 15 minutes to spare. We walked north over the Williamsburg Bridge and hitchhiked back to Long Island, arriving home at about 6 p.m.

When I realized that 295 colleagues from our firm had died, I was overcome with a deep sense of sadness. I imagined what I might have said to my children if I had been trapped and had an opportunity to call them before I died.

One thing I realized about 9/11 is that if you weren’t there or didn’t experience a direct loss in some way, most people just “don’t get it.” They cannot understand or sympathize with one’s depression or sadness or sense of loss.

In 2004, the firm laid off several thousand people. I was one of them. After 18 years with the company and 30 years in the insurance industry, I was suddenly unemployed for the first time.

The first life-changing decision I made after my layoff was to stop commuting 3-4 hours a day from Long Island into New York City. I found a part-time job as a nonmedical caregiver/companion for senior men and women. It was very satisfying work, and I made a lot of new friends.

I learned another valuable lesson from my 9/11 experience. The Tuesday before, I left the building at lunchtime and met my friend Bill outside. He asked me if I’d like to join him and two others for a slice of pizza. I asked Bill if I could take a rain check because I was going to J&R Music to check out the new movies on DVD.

Bill and I never had that lunch.

Lesson learned: Never pass up an opportunity to be with family or friends.

My wife and I returned to the World Trade Center site on the 20th anniversary in 2021. This was our first time back.

The most emotional experience was seeing our friends’ and colleagues’ names engraved around the memorial pools and seeing their portraits inside the museum. It was an emotional day, and I don’t think we’ll be going back again anytime soon — if ever.

9/11 made me aware of the most important things in life: God, family, friends and community.

Thank God for every day and look for ways to help each other and make the world a better place. And say “thank you” and “I love you” often.

— Roderick Andersson, Islip Terrace

'Facing cancer required the same resilience'

As a financial professional working on Wall Street, I was accustomed to the relentless pace of the city. I was just three blocks away from the World Trade Center when the unthinkable occurred.

The streets erupted into chaos, with people running, screaming and desperately trying to make sense of the unfolding nightmare.

In those harrowing moments, I was filled with an overwhelming sense of anxiety. The once-familiar cityscape was now a scene of devastation. Despite the fear and uncertainty, I knew I had to return to work.

The financial district, like the rest of the nation, was determined to persevere, to rebuild and to prove that we would not be defeated by terror.

Returning to work was daunting. Yet, there was also a sense of camaraderie and resilience. Colleagues who had once been mere acquaintances became allies in the struggle to regain a sense of normalcy. We shared stories, offered support and found strength in one another.

The experience taught me the importance of community and the power of the human spirit to overcome adversity.

Twenty years later in 2021, another battle emerged. I was diagnosed with cancer, a stark reminder of my mortality and the fragility of life.

Facing cancer required the same resilience and determination that had carried me through the aftermath of the attacks.

I leaned on my family, friends and medical team for support. I approached each day with the mindset that I had cultivated years earlier: one of perseverance, hope and an unwavering belief in the possibility of healing.

The journey through cancer was arduous. I learned to appreciate the small joys in life, to cherish the relationships that sustained me, and to live with a renewed sense of purpose.

Reflecting on the past, I see how the experiences of 9/11 and my battle with cancer are intertwined. They reminded me that life is unpredictable and precious, urging me to live each day with gratitude and courage.

— Rose DeMartino, North Massapequa

'The Belt Parkway is tied up'

On 9/11, I got up early for a monthly visit to a client in Wilmington, Delaware. The Belt Parkway is tied up. I am cursing up a storm listening to radio alternating between WNYC’s “Morning Edition” and WFAN’s “Imus in the Morning.”

Warner Wolf, a local TV sports guy who does some radio, calls in to his show after a news report of an airplane accident. He lives in the Battery Park City apartments across from the World Trade Center and describes what he heard and is seeing.

Finally, as I get to the Verrazzano bridge, the first tower is clearly burning. Radio stations start to disappear. Imus is still on. Accident reports are turning into attack reports. Warner Wolf is still giving the commentary on what he sees and hears. Imus reports President Bush is in a grammar school down in Florida, reading to children.

I get to the Outerbridge Crossing into New Jersey; the second tower has been hit and reports of the attack on America are starting. Imus has complete coverage as well as the commentary of Wolf. It is pandemonium at the first rest area of New Jersey Turnpike. I use my cellphone to call my office and home. That’s the last time the cellphone works.

I make the lonely trek to Wilmington listening to Imus and the further accounts of the Pentagon and Pennsylvania attacks. The coverage is breathtaking and solemn. Wolf’s depiction of what is going on is reminiscent of a radio era long gone, like listening to Red Barber or Vin Scully paint the picture of a ballgame or Edward R. Murrow’s reports on World War II. I hear about the airports closing, airspace shutdown, president is airborne, Air Force mobilized, Congress and the VP have run for safety underground.

All I see are emergency vehicles making a steady stream to New York. Wilmington is a ghost town. Red Cross is at the city’s gate along with the military. I finish compiling my monthly periodic report for the client, sign, and date it with “God Bless America” under the independent accountant’s report signature.

All access to New York is shut down for emergencies. I talk to a New Jersey trooper and explain my dilemma. He asks if I know the Garden State Parkway, and where it intersects upstate New York.

I hit the New Jersey Turnpike heading toward the GSP exit and stop at the rest area. People are stranded all over asking how to get to or through New York. I walk to the big map, show people the route from the turnpike to the GSP to Route 17 to the New York Thruway.

Some ask if they can follow. I start a caravan and finish the route. We stay to the right at about 40 mph to allow the stream of emergency vehicles heading to New York City to bypass. Most go separate ways once we hit the Yonkers area at the Cross County Parkway, which I take to the Hutchinson River Parkway to the Whitestone Bridge, which is closed.

An NYPD officer at the toll booth asks what the hell I am doing. I give him the events of my day, show him my driver’s license to verify my home address, and show him my client’s financial statement, which I compiled earlier. He sees that the work I do is for the Department of Justice. He moves the barrier, says something about the bridge reopening shortly — and asks me to be careful of emergency vehicles, stay on the Cross Island Parkway to the Southern State Parkway, and then get off at my exit.

I pull into my driveway to be greeted by my loved ones.

We talk about their fears and what terrorism is and why one never backs down from a bully and should stand toe to toe with him and knock him out.

That night and the next morning, we started to hear about the 44 residents of our village of 25,000, most moms or dads, who did not come home. All were better folks than me.

Now, through the years I have watched their sons and daughters grow, their surviving spouses struggle, driven the streets renamed for them, and watched the athletic events at the playing fields named in their honor; but nothing is the same, nothing is better, nothing is over — it is something that will last a lifetime for those who remain and were affected.

I watched the children of the village grow into young men and women, graduate high school and enlist or join the services. I have them over for a few beers before they go and when they come back on leave. That’s the least I can do.

We are in a new age and it isn’t the “Age of Aquarius.” If all Islam, Judaism and Christianity emanated from Abraham, I reckon he would want a do-over at this point. If we could replace the hatred with tolerance and provide the hungry with food, the homeless with shelter and the parentless with love, we all would be better off, but heck, that might be too religious!

A little tolerance would go a long way, and so would some integrity in doing the right thing. Too many have died before, too many have died now, and too many will die in the days to come.

— James J. Malone, Rockville Centre