Page 569 - WhyAsInY
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sWeet sixteen
George W. Bush and, in my view, led inevitably to a disastrous eight years, and more, for this country and the world at large.
Tuesday, September 11, 2001, will never go away. You undoubtedly know the public facts, so, as briefly as I can, I will relate the events from Kathy’s perspective and mine: I was walking into a conference room to chair the weekly Real Estate Department meeting when one of the asso- ciates told me she had heard on the radio that an airplane had crashed into the World Trade Center. I knew that in 1945 a befogged bomber had crashed into the Empire State Building, and I assumed that some- thing similar had occurred. What I forgot was how clear the sky was on September 11. Kathy called to tell me that the World Trade Center disaster was no accident. The word spread, and many of us went to the firm’s cafeteria, where everyone was watching the results of the first crash on a television set. It was there that I saw the South Tower col- lapse. Minutes later, I thought that the TV was replaying the collapse when, in fact, the new image was that of the collapse of the North Tower. Even more stunned, I decided to get across town to Roosevelt Hospital to meet Kathy to give blood for the victims. Kathy had actually wit- nessed the second plane hit the World Trade Center—in shock, disbelief, and non-comprehension—while she looked to the south from a confer- ence room window.
I arrived and joined Kathy and the rest of the senior staff of Con- tinuum, who were meeting to coordinate the response of the hospitals. It was then that the immensity of the horror really began to set in. It wasn’t horrifying because of the frenetic activity that I witnessed. The opposite was true. It was horrifying because there was no activity at all. People might have been being treated for smoke inhalation downtown, but there was no real emergency room involvement—and it was plain that there was no need for triage, for plasma, for sutures, for bandages. It soon became clear that there were no critically injured survivors, that thou- sands had died, and that the hospitals would have little or nothing to do.
Later, in the afternoon, Kathy and I decided to make for Scarsdale. We were joined by a hospital official who was a Philadelphia commuter whose husband did not want her to be alone—no one wanted to be
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