Eight years ago today I was a novice New Yorker. Having moved into the AVODAH house just 2 weeks before, I was growing accustomed to my commute to the office, living with eight other people and figuring out what it meant to go to work and not to class for the first time in 16 years. I worked as a volunteer coordinator and was learning with many others how to organize parents and community members to become volunteer tutors in public schools and was preparing to venture into the depths of Brooklyn to my school district and the schools where I would be working. It was before nine in the morning when I got to the office. I was almost always in before nine because the subway never took as long as I thought it would, even with the walk from 6th Avenue to Park Avenue South. Already at my desk by 8:45 I remember one of the managers called the program director and said that a plane hit the first tower. The few of us that were in the office crowded into the ED's office and watched on TV as the second plane hit the second tower. It didn't seem real.
I did one smart thing that day. I emailed my parents to say that I was at the office, not on the subway under the East River and I was okay. THE DIVA, my sister, was on IM and she was preparing to go to class and knew I was safe, too. It was hard to watch the television, and even more difficult to pretend that I was doing any work at my cubicle. Eventually we were all just watching TV in shock. I remember we ordered pizza and I couldn't stop eating.
I didn't know what to do or where to go. THE DIVA, a college junior was walking to class and saw the second plane hit and while in the classroom felt the ground shake as the towers went down. I knew there were no subways running and THE DIVA and I planned to meet outside her dorm on 14th street. We chatted and made the arrangements on IM and were set to meet in what seemed like a reasonable amount of time to walk 11 blocks. On any other day it would have been reasonable, but not with thousands of people walking north in the middle of the streets while I wove my way in and out desperate to get to my sister. After 45 minutes of weaving in and around people, I got to the building to find my little sister in hysterical tears. She was so scared because I couldn't get there any faster and there was no way of getting that information to her. We embraced in one of the longest, tightest hugs ever and we always give long, tight hugs to one another and we held hands as we crossed the street for the group of people who were also stranded in THE DIVA's dorm room.
We didn't know what to buy or how much of it. We got toothbrushes and I remember carrots only because I think I ate an entire bag sitting there in shock. My parents knew that we were both safe and that we were together. The TV kept showing the same images again and again and it still didn't feel real because the sky at 14th street was the most clear azure. I was at THE DIVA's for a long time. They announced somewhere, somehow that the subways were running. I decided to go back to my AVODAHnikim. There were enough stranded people at THE DIVA's.
I went home and was embraced by love, shock, support and tears from the eight strangers who I now called roommates. The entire backyard was covered with ash and soot. The wind was blowing everything into our Brooklyn backyard. It was one of the most disgusting sights I ever saw walking off the train at the Smith/9th station and down the steps. We sat together in the basement and talked, read poetry and tried to find meaning in the chaos. We talked about preparing for other attacks and what we should do and buy. We weren't really at the hugging stage yet, everything and everyone was so new. It didn't matter after September 11 there were always hugs to go around. The relationships that were already in formation became solidified on September 11. We drew strength and support from one another at the darkest time and it enabled us to smile and spread joy to all of those around us in times of celebration.
It is eight years later and I am not in as close of contact with those 8 roommates and the 7 in the other house. I think of them and our experiences throughout that year often. I know that whenever I do see them again it will be as if no time has passed.
Every year on this day I am transported back in time, to that year, to that rat-infested niggun-filled house, to the Shabbat tables constructed out of closet doors and paint cans in the basement, and the year that I found out some of the pieces of the person I was becoming. I remember the embrace from my sister and all of those that have come after it because few things are as strong as the bond between sisters. I am grateful for that were in my life at that time and that came into my life subsequently. They have held me up when I was falling. Everyday of my life I express gratitude to the One who grants life and has enabled me to live another day surrounded by people I love and the people who love me.
On September 11, 2009 I sit at my desk in my office at a synagogue living my dream. On the door there is a sign that says 'rabbi.' Terrorism is just that, terrifying. Living is a tribute and a testimony and the antithesis to that fear, that uncertainty. To live is to embrace uncertainty and acknowledge fear and laugh in its face. A wise rabbi once said, "the whole world is a narrow bridge and the principle that is most important is not to be afraid!"
