Times Square, Silent Train, and a Secret... Reflections on my 9/11

My favorite view of the Twin Towers pre-9/11 that I never tired of... from Hoboken.

Twelve years ago now, after watching two beautiful buildings crumble to the ground on a small TV in the cafeteria of my New York City office building, I was sent home from work, and not knowing where to go or what to do next, I went back to the company apartment that I was staying at and turned on the TV again. What was I looking for? The images were the same over and over. I had to get out of New York, but I was stuck, so that would have to wait until tomorrow. I decided to go for a walk and went a couple of blocks over to Times Square. It was still and quiet. A ghost city. The image from "Vanilla Sky" where Tom Cruise runs through an empty Times Square filled my head. I shivered. All the stores and kiosks were boarded up, there were no taxis or cars honking through the streets, no bus fumes. It was quiet enough that I could hear the sound of the jet fighters making their rounds overhead and the ambulances in the distance racing south on the West Side Highway. I was alone, but not really. I had a secret.

Sleep would not come for me that night. So, at first light, I headed for the train station to see if I could get to the Jersey side where my parents and siblings were. The station was packed, but people were quiet and orderly. Everyone had suitcases. It was a mass exodus from the city, like refugees. Transit Authority workers were directing people along and filling up the trains as fast as they could. No charge. I stood on the packed train among silent people. It was like the sound turned off on the TV. No one spoke. The train pulled away from the station and went through its underground stretch under the Hudson River. After a few minutes, daylight and a bright blue sky. And as we pulled away from the train tunnel and turned to be parallel with the river, the city loomed on the other side of it, with smoke still pluming from downtown. And people gasped. A woman sitting by the window sobbed. I felt sick. 

I arrived at my parents' home. They were happy to see me and gave me big hugs. We didn't say much to each other. I  went outside and lied on the grass in their front yard and stared up at the blue sky with puffy white clouds. A carbon copy of the sky that brought disaster 24 hours earlier. When things were much different and seemingly "more normal."

I had big news to tell that night in the kitchen. About the new little person that was to join our family in about 9 months time. And though my husband wasn't there with me to share the news with them, we felt it was the right time to share our news with our families - about their first grandchild. To bring a little bit of joy to a day when there was so much sadness.

This summer, my sons and I visited the WTC Memorial Site. To be honest, I was a bit underwhelmed. The grounds, underground arcade and those two tall buildings I'd always admired seemed so massive to me when I worked and played among them in my 20s. The site today seems so small. But it is beautiful and serene and it's nice to have a special place to say hello to old friends and acquaintances who rest there forever. Never forget 9/11.

A "forever young" friend.

Thoughts on a Volatile Year in Shanghai... Part 1: Superstorm Sandy

I admit I was out of commission for our "last year" in Shanghai. I pretty much had checked out, as they say. We thought we were repatriating, you know in layman's terms, leaving or blowing this taco stand (er, I mean jiao zi stand). 

I didn't make much of an effort to meet newbies to Shanghai my last year. I still had some friends here, I didn't need any more for my last year. I wanted to spend my last months in Shanghai with familiar faces - people whose names I could remember. 

Then, Superstorm Sandy struck. October 30, 2012. She made a direct hit on my hometown of Manasquan, New Jersey (her girth was wide, so technically we were part of that direct hit). I watched CNN International helplessly from China all night while the familiar faces of American newscasters reported live from my town as the hours crept closer to high tide. The water from the storm surge came into our house, uninvited. And that b**ch Sandy, well, she made a mess and never cleaned up after she left. I can count on one hand the number of houses that didn't have a flood breach in a 5-block radius of our house. 

They said you didn't want to be there for the storm. And I am thankful that my boys didn't have to live through it. It must have been scary as hell. I've been in my Jersey Shore home during "almost hurricanes", big nor'easters and mild nor'easters, and it scares me to death - and those little storms are nothing compared to this. Mother Nature, she can be real mean! 

I made the 14-1/2 hour flight home two weeks after the storm to assess the damage and get the tedious paperwork started, knowing that I was going to be one of thousands in line for getting a contractor to rebuild our house and fighting for insurance money. 

The smell was something I'd never experienced before. Not like anything remotely familiar. If I ever smelled it again, I would recognize it immediately, and I hope that never happens because it was the smell of disaster. 

Only two weeks after the storm my appliances looked like they were left out in the rain for 20 years. The demolition company had already stripped the house of floors, carpets and half of the walls. Any belongings still remaining were put in the garage. My immediate thought was to just dispose of everything. I didn't want anything that touched that disgusting Category 3 flood water with the sick smell. Some local volunteers came and helped me move everything to the street. Our things joined the  piles of debris and years and years worth of neighbors' belongings out there. A large FEMA truck came by and picked up everything, crushing my doomed appliances as if they were made of paper. 

The giant FEMA debris trucks.

A father and son volunteer team - these guys and many other teams of volunteers, went around the neighborhood looking for ways to help and encourage homeowners whose homes were destroyed. God bless them!

As I continued to clean out and organize, both neighbors and strangers came by. I got more hugs that week than I think I ever had in my life. Everyone was sharing stories. I cried often and a lot. And I do think it was more for them than for me. You see, I was lucky... I didn't have to live in the 2nd floor of my house with no heat for two weeks, I didn't have to live without a kitchen for several months. I didn't have to have contractors in and out of my house 15 hours a day and live with the sounds of construction all around me day in and day out all winter and spring. I live in Shanghai, 1/2 a world away. 

But that wasn't without its problems. Managing a rebuild 1/2 a world away wasn't easy. I was stressed out, very unhappy, and hence turning blue. Because it was hard to make choices, to communicate on a 12-hour time difference with no reliable phone service, to deposit insurance money, to argue my case with the insurance company, and on top of it, I had no one to talk to that could relate to me, including my husband. It was me who was carrying the burden and I felt really lonely. But as I look back upon that time, I am thankful that my family didn't feel the burden because it was painful in ways that I can't describe. 

So, by Spring, I felt a strange, strong pull from the homeland. I couldn't wait to blow this jiao zi (dumpling) stand and GO HOME - I wanted OUT of Shanghai and I was ready to repatriate. I was done. I wanted to clean up our nest and make it right for my family. I couldn't wait to settle back into the easy life in the USA.

And then, we got THE OFFER. The offer TO STAY...