I'll never forget being a sleep in Japan as it was the middle of the night. I was awakened by my mom calling to tell me that a plane had crashed into one of the World Trade Center towers. Thinking it was an accident, that a small Cesna or something had accidentally hit the building, I said goodnight to her and went back to bed. It wasn't until about midnight (Japan time) or so on September 12 when we were called and told to report to work that I suddenly realized something was terribly wrong.
At this time, Kadena Airbase was not lonely locked down in then Threatcon Delta, but Okinawa was getting hit with a typhoon that had hit us only a couple of days earlier before turning around and slamming into us again.
I remember that we were unable to get the Armed Forces Network on the TVs at work. We had to watch the events unfold live on Japanese TV. By the time I got to my office, the second plane had already hit, but both towers were still standing. We tried to get some work done, but we were glued to the TV.
Then it happened. The first tower began to collapse in a pile of rubble. A short time later the second tower fell. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. These proud and mighty symbols of NYC and our country were gone. I grew up near these, and on clear days it was not uncommon to see them from the northern part of the Jersey shore where I grew up.
Then it hit me. My father used to work at the WTC 2-3 times a week. I felt my heart drop, and I began frantically trying to call him. I couldn't get a hold of him on his cell a first and began to grow increasingly worried. Finally, after the third try, I was able to reach him. He had decided to work from home that day instead of going to the WTC.
God spared me loss on that day, but my father was not so fortunate. He had many friends in the firm Cantor Fitzgerald that had an office in the towers. In the span of two weeks, my father had attended 13 funerals for friends, some for people he had known since elementary school.
I remember thinking when I finally arrived back in the states in December of that year that the country was a very different place then when I left for Japan in 1999.
Today, I also think about and pray for my best friend, Jason. Jason was in Manhattan on that terrible day and was forced to walk to Brooklyn to escape the chaos. He is a 9/11 survivor.
I pray for comfort for him and his family as they remember a father, brother and uncle. Firefighter Thomas Sabella of Ladder 13 died along with 342 of his brothers when the towers collapsed. I pray for the family of those fallen heroes.
I pray for the families and friend of all the victims on this day, but my brothers in bunker gear will always hold a special place in my heart.
As I go about today, it is my fervent prayer that I will not only remember those fallen, but that I will do whatever I can to help honor their memory.
