On the morning of 9/11, I was at my place of work in Middlebury. At around 8:50, a phone operator came to my office to inform me a plane had hit one of the trade towers in NYC.
On the morning of 9/11, I was at my place of work in Middlebury. At around 8:50, a phone operator came to my office to inform me a plane had hit one of the trade towers in New York City. I wasn’t sure which floor my daughter Beth’s fiance, Jim worked on. I felt frantic. I called my daughter’s cell every few minutes, but all cell service was non-existent. I called his parents in New Jersey, but again, no phone service. I glued myself to the radio. It was afternoon when I got a call from Beth. I had no idea she had been in a class in the same tower as Jim. I can’t imagine the helplessness and overwhelming sense of doom I would have felt. But they were okay, and I was relieved. On Saturday, my husband and I traveled to Hoboken to Beth and Jim’s. As we got closer, we saw the smoke rising from where the Trade Towers had been. Seeing it in person was when everything sunk in. I cried. We walked along the Hudson in Hoboken across from the smoldering towers. There were hundreds of people gathered. There was wax all over the walkway from candles held by those who joined vigils. There were pictures posted everywhere asking, “Have you seen this person?” All of them lost in the Towers collapse. The smell from the towers is something I’ll never forget. I was overcome with sadness. I felt guilty that there was happiness that I felt because Beth and Jim had survived. Twenty years later, I still feel anxiety overcome me on the 9/11 anniversary. But now, Beth and Jim are married with two daughters, Chloe, 15 and Phoebe, 13. These girls are the light of my life. I am so thankful that things turned out for their parents, and I can’t imagine them not being here. They are our future. They are our hope for a better tomorrow.
June Moncrief
