Plum Crazy

My office at the WTC was always a mess, with stacks of papers all over. Frank used to joke with me that the only way to clean my office was to throw a match in it. In a fit of black humor on 9/11, I remember thinking "Well, that's a bit of overkill, wouldn't you say?" [Note: Mercifully, although I didn't think so on the day he told me, Frank, who worked for me, had resigned in June, 2001. On 9/11 and thereafter, I was grateful he had. Frank always got in around 7:30 a.m. If he hadn't resigned, he'd have been killed.]

9 months was the hardest time for me. I was freaking out so badly, I was seriously considering leaving the country. By the one-year anniversary, that terrible fear had passed.

I'm glad my company moved us to Hoboken. I'm glad I moved to Hoboken. At the end of every day, I would feel "Another day passed without a terrorist attack." And I never knew which would be worse - that I would be killed in the next attack or that I would survive again but more people I knew would be killed. I don't worry so much about the former, although I do still fear the latter. How do people in Israel live with that fear all the time? How do they get through their lives? It's amazing.

9/11/01 started off as such a beautiful day. After the attack, I remember thinking how wrong it was for such a horrible day to be so sunny and beautiful. It should have been gray.

In retrospect, I'm glad it was sunny. The grayness would have reflected my mood, but the sunshine was like a tribute to the people who were killed. That is much more important.