Never Forget

Tuesday, September 11, 2001, 6:40 AM MDT. I left my house. I had to be at work at 7:00. There were mortgages to process and loan officers to placate. People wanted to move into their homes, or have the money to fix up the one they had. Around 6:45, I was at the crest of Austin Bluffs, just at the intersection of Austin Bluffs and Cragmor. I don’t know why I remember that. I did have the radio on, and I imagine there was a news story, but there wasn’t anything really that stood out. It was early, and I’m not a morning person.

6:55 AM MDT (est). I parked my car and went into the office. Said hello to the receptionist and walked to my desk. I got my computer turned on, logged in and sat down. I had just gotten comfortable, my chair just barely warmed up. Outside, the sun was getting brighter. I had a fantastic view of Pike’s Peak that was distracting some days. Sometimes, you could see bears or coyotes out there. Some even saw bighorn sheep, although I never did. In the cube in front of me, my co-worker stood up. The World Trade Center has been hit. Both of them. I stood up. She was talking to the person in the cube beside her, but I heard her just fine. It was hard not to. My first word to her that morning was “Wha…?” I don’t know, I might have grunted “morning” to her when I walked in, but that’s the first thing I remember saying.

After that, time stops meaning anything.

The phones stop ringing. We’re in early for the Eastern and Central time zones. They’ve been up, they know what’s happening. They’re not calling. Especially our people from New York, Maryland, Virginia, DC and Pennsylvania. They’re a little preoccupied. Others come in to work. Not everyone watches the news or listens to the radio, so not everyone knows what happened. The atmosphere in the building is somber, to say the least. It’s almost impossible to get an update. The internet is barraged with requests. I had three different windows open, checking on CNN, MSNBC and Google, hoping any one of them might update. It took better than a minute to refresh the windows. Later in the morning, one of my co-workers brought out a hand-held television she keeps for lunch. At one point, there were probably 12 of us crowded around a 3-inch screen, trying to find out what was going on.

California woke up. Okay, the Pacific time zone woke up. The Mountain Time zone is pretty sparsely populated. At the best of times we never got that many calls, comparatively speaking. Most of our Pacific calls seemed to come from California, though, so that’s what I think of first when I think of the West. Some had no idea anything had happened. As far as they were concerned, it was just a normal Tuesday morning. Others, the ones that really upset me, did know, and didn’t care. I know they didn’t care. They actually said they didn’t care. All they wanted was their loan documents. California, generally speaking, doesn’t accept faxed copies of mortgage documents. Not even with original signatures. Faxing closing documents wasn’t an option. Later in the day, we were able to come up with an alternative, using a scanner and email. The biggest issue with that was security, but these loan officers weren’t letting go. If their clients’ information was stolen, on their head be it.

Colorado Springs has several military installations, and some people had to leave for various reasons related to that fact. Most, though, stayed. I had no one at home to talk to, so I was glad the site didn’t close. That was, in fact, part of the rationale. Of course, back then, we had a different person in charge. It was about the people, not the job. But that’s another, bitter, blog. The site remained open for the rest of the normal business day. I seem to recall being told that, after my shift ended and I went home, the site closed. Nothing was getting accomplished.

Our site manager found a television, and was able to access broadcast channels. He had the television set up in the cafeteria, available for anyone, at any time. Ideally, we were to get work done, but there was no pressure. The cafeteria was full for the rest of the day. I watched President Bush address the nation from the cafeteria, surrounded by several dozen co-workers. I went to lunch with a friend of mine, struck by the absence of air traffic. It was silent. There were cars on the road, but it was silent. As we were leaving the building, though, a group of F-15s flew overhead, all the louder for the lack of competition. The only thing we could assume, judging by the angle, is it was an escort for Air Force One. Looked like it was coming from the Cheyenne Mountain area, and we had just seen the President talking in an undisclosed location. Before it moved, NORAD was based in Cheyenne Mountain, and was a known undisclosed location. Two and two…

The rest of the day remains a blur as well. There was time spent on the telephone talking to some clients in California, explaining to them that what they were demanding simply wasn’t possible. There was time spent in the cafeteria, watching the coverage. There was time spent on the floor, talking with co-workers, trying to wrap our heads around the events of the day. I watched the coverage for the next several days, and took the advice of newscasters who said to take a break, step away, watch something else, something happy. Still, I was alone. I didn’t have anyone to help me process this. I should be used to that by now, I suppose, but again, that’s another, bitter, blog.

Some days after the attacks, I went through my client files. I needed to update my portfolio, and remove the files that were no longer valid. One call, I can’t forget. I’ve tried. Just like the rest of the day that spawned it, I tried, but I can’t. I called the loan officer and asked about this client. There hadn’t been any activity for several weeks, would we continue? Hold the file. He worked at the World Trade Center, and his wife is waiting to hear from him. He was a Vice President for a major financial company. His office was on the 103rd floor of Two World Trade Center.

Seven years later, I still haven’t completely processed it. I don’t know if I ever will, frankly, but I would have hoped I’d be farther along than I am. Still, some things have changed. I’m not having trouble sleeping because of the attacks anymore. Not even on the anniversary. Took 30 years for the Super Tornado Outbreak of 1974 dreams to stop, and the nearest tornado was miles away. And one thing, I must say, I’m proud that I never once thought the space should be kept sacred and open. The terrorists hit it to make us grovel and cry, to leave ups feeling hopeless and helpless. And frankly, if we build there, we win. I’m not thrilled that Bush managed to sneak the US Patriot Act through in a time of grieving, but he wouldn’t be the first politician – of either party – to use tragedy to further his own desires.

Honestly, I don’t want to forget. Ever. It reminded us that we were vulnerable, even across an ocean from our enemies, perceived and real. More importantly, though, it reminded us that even though we have different beliefs, religions, races and creeds, one thing we have that’s the same is our home. We’re all American.