The Sky Angel's Blog

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But as we were walking to and from the grocery store, I remember people running from downtown Manhattan (only 3 miles away) covered in ash.  The expressions on their faces was sheer horror.  I remember buses driving past with people hanging out the windows, just to be able to fit as many people in as possible.  They all had that same look of fear and horror in their eyes.  I did not choose to take any pictures that day, except of us in our hotel room.  To this day, I cannot tell you where those pictures are.

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After returning from the grocery store, Janeen and I went to get the car from La Guardia airport.  I remember walking onto Queens Blvd and taxis driving by with no people in them.  None of them would stop.  So I literally walked in the middle of the street and stood in front of a cab until it had no choice but to either stop, or run me over.  The driver refused to take us to the airport, telling me “are you insane? The airport is closed and I am not taking you anywhere”.  I told him “you can either take us there, or let me drive the car and I will take us myself.  We will not get out of your vehicle.”  There were a lot of experlative words spoken, but finally he took us.

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When we got to Avis (the only rental car agency at the time that was not charging a “drop fee”, the person at the counter proceeded to tell us they were all out of vehicles.  I remember arguing (more swear words) that I had a reservation and he needed to get his manager to the facility or on the phone.  I basically told the manager that I had gotten a reservation hours prior and if he didn’t have a vehicle for us, he could happily give me the keys to his own car.  Ironically, the next thing I knew, there was a mini van for us to drive off the lot.

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We made it back to the hotel, to find so many people in the lobby trying to get information and find rooms.  People were standing in line at the pay phone to try to get out.  None of us had computers because we were traveling to Egypt, and cell phone service was sporadic, at best.  We already had five people in our room, so there wasn’t room for more.  That is where we huddled, trying to distract one another by playing cards or anything else we could think of.  I don’t remember much about the hotel after that.

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The following morning, once the only bridge out of town was open, we left.  It was still dark outside.  I remember that we had to drive closer to Manhattan in order to get out of town.  I believe it was the Tapanzee bridge or tunnel we had to go through or over.  But what I remember most from that day was the smoke and the smell.  Hard to describe, but one I will never forget.  The ride over the bridge was surreal as well.  We were driving out of the city as the sun came up, and through the smoke we saw a military convoy going the other direction ~ toward downtown.  I knew in an instant we were going to war.  Eric kept saying he wanted to stay, but he felt a sense of responsibility to get us girls back home safely.  I wanted desperately to go and help as well, but I felt so guilty for having put my friends in harms way, that I had to get them back home.  It was difficult because Kristina had come from California and as the day progressed, we learned all flights had been cancelled.  We tried to get her a rental car from various cities, but there were none to be found.

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We found ourselves on conference calls through our job as flight attendants, trying to get updates.  I don’t remember much of the drive, other than our only outlet was stopping at the Hershey Factory in Pennsylvania for a distraction.  I know it was an extremely difficult time for each of us, lost in our own thoughts.  Once we arrived in Atlanta, Kristina took the rental vehicle and drove to California by herself.  It was so hard, because we were all so exhausted and I just wanted her to rest a while before the drive.  I would have gone with her.  But I just couldn’t function from the shock and exhaustion.  I don’t know how she made that drive alone, but I know she needed and was committed to getting back to her family.

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We all react in our own ways.  Mine was “how can I help?”.  I volunteered at the Operational Control Center, helping to get a hold of our flight crews that were in international destinations, making sure they had transportation to get to a city where they would be able to travel once flights were back in the air.  Many crews had gone to various locations on their own, and we knew that the FAA would only allow particular airports, with the appropriate security, to come back into the USA once flights were lifted.  I was just happy to be helping in some way or another, and talking to people who were all over the globe, wondering what was happening back in America found relief in having that phone connection with us.

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Once flights began again, I did “emergency flying” for only a day.  Then everyone figured out I was on my vacation time and told me to go home and rest.  What I did, was go home, pack my suitcase, get my laptop, and get on the first flight to New York City.  ( Every day that I as there, I did a journal as a Word Document on my computer.  The problem was that when I returned, my laptop crashed, and I lost everything that was on my hard drive.  It was just meant to be that certain memories were only to be locked in my mind, and not specifically etched in stone forever  That is why you are getting only what I remember now.)

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When I landed, I got a free cab ride from the airport (yes, in NYC!) to the Red Cross and said “I have disaster management training through my job, two hands, a willing heart, and will do anything you want me to do”.  I know I didn’t have a place to stay and that was going to be an issue at some point.  But I really believed God had called me to “COME” and there was no turning back.  He would provide … after all, He had just saved my life.

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Initially I had gone to the Red Cross on Amsterdam Avenue.  They tried to give me keys to a van (I had never driven in New York, nor did I know the streets AT ALL) and told me to go to the Hard Rock Cafe to pick up food, to take to Ground Zero for the Respitz Center where all the workers were still looking for survivors.  I laughed and said “I don’t mind doing that, but you need to give me a driver”.  It was so weird, being in the City at that time.  I had stayed with Janeen’s cousin for two nights in Jersey. But that wasn’t working and I needed a place to stay.  I also had found out that I had to go to the Red Cross center in Brooklyn, to get an ID so I could volunteer and go to Ground Zero.

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As I walked down the hallway to get my ID, I saw a man in a firefighter shirt, giving someone a massage in one of those chairs.  I asked if he could do that to me.  He told me to come back after getting my ID.  After introducing ourselves to one another, he asked how long I would be in town.  I told him “I don’t really know, because I don’t have a place to stay”.  He literally had spoken to me for three minutes.  He picked up his phone and said “hey Ang, it’s Jimmy.  I’m here with my good friend, Robin, the flight attendant.  She came up to help out my “brothers” and she needs a place to stay.  Sure, we will be there at 8.”.  We both volunteered all day, and he drove me to Jersey to get my luggage.  From there, he took me to an angel on earth.

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Angie had/has a one bedroom apartment on Roosevelt Island.  That island had been cut off from society for three entire days, and she was thankful to have someone to talk to.  I was incredibly grateful to have a place to stay, because it meant I could stay ~ which I did for 18 days.  Angie would take no payment, she just kept saying “this is my way of helping”.

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I volunteered at the Family Assistance Center and Ground Zero, going between the two.  Until one day on the subway, I overheard a family member say to the person sitting next to them “you know, it was the flight attendants fault.  They were submissive and gave in to the terrorists.”  I began to cry uncontrollably, but didn’t say a word.  When I got to what was referred to as the FAC, I told them that I could not help the families any longer.  It was a conflict of interest for me, and I would better be of service at Ground Zero.  It upset me for a very long time that anyone could think or feel that way about the flight crews who were trained to save lives, and it took years of counseling for me to get over the fact that everyone reacts to things in a different way.

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But to be honest, my true colors came out at Ground Zero.  There I served meals to the firefighters, police officers, steel workers, military personnel, OSHA, FBI, and every other agency that was there.  Along with every other volunteer, we tried to encourage those people just get a little bit of rest.  But more than anything, they just wanted to keep looking for survivors.  And in picking up their plates after meals, they began to talk to me about what was going on in their own minds.

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I will never forget the stories like a Fire Chief telling me how just a few months prior, they had a camping trip with his “guys” and their kids.  He retold his memories of them all sitting around the fire telling stories, and cried in my arms as he said he could not believe all of those children were going to grow up without their dads.  He just happened to not be on shift that morning. That conversation ended with him telling me “thank you for showing up”.

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Someone from the CIA had come in after an entire day at what was known as “the pile”.  He told me that day they had decided to start issuing death certificates because they knew they would not find any more survivors.  The only that had been saved were two or three fire fighters and a woman I think who was named Geraldine, in the very beginning.  He asked me “how do I tell a family member that their loved one is dead, when there is not any DNA or proof”?  I told him the story of my mom dying in a car accident in 1996.  How I never got to see her body or tell her goodbye.  How even though my sister had told me she had identified my mom from a lock of her hair (she was bandaged everywhere), that I personally had previously struggled because I never saw for myself.  I never had any proof.  And for almost a year afterward, I wondered if I would get a phone call from my mom, telling me she was alive and there had been a mistake.  I understood what it was like to not have closure. It is a difficult thing to process.  He also ended his conversation with “thank you for being here … thank you for showing up” as tears flowed from both of us.

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Another day at Ground Zero I was talking to a Marine who had been working the “pile” and I said “we are going to war, aren’t we?”.  He replied “yes”.  And in that conversation I made a commitment to him that I would do everything I could to support our troops while they were deployed.

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A chain of events a few months afterward, with me meeting a soldier on a military charter gave me my first opportunity.  Since that point in time, I have “adopted” (written letters, cards, postcards, and sent care packages to 119 service members) through their deployments.

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What was the most tragic event next to Pearl Harbor in US history, turned out to be the most life changing and beautiful experience for me.  I have always been one to do things for others and put people before myself.  However, I learned through volunteering in this situation, that my life had a much bigger purpose.  I learned that me “showing up” actually mattered.

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It was life changing for me.  I stayed for 18 days, working the midnight to 8am shift.  Angie would get out of bed, and I would roll in and take it over for a few hours before heading back out again. She became like a second mom to me over the years, with her life coaching, mentoring, and unconditional love.  She has helped me to process my feelings and find new ways to think about life events.  If any of you ever meet her, you will agree that she is truly an earth angel.

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There is much I can say about September 11, 2001 and the months that I went back and forth to volunteer afterward.  But what I want to share the most, is that thousands of people died between New York City, the Pentagon, and on an airplane full of heroes in Pennsylvania.  Many more have died in war zones in Iraq and Afghanistan.  I don’t care whether you believe in the war or not, because I care about our troops who are following orders and doing what they can to keep the enemy from striking us on US soil again.  Others have come home with deep wounds that can and cannot be seen.  Honor them, help them any way you can.

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Reach out to our firefighters, police officers, first responders, humanitarians, flight crews, and people you would normally take for granted ~ like the people who will save your life when needed on an airplane.  Why?  Because they each made career choices to put themselves in harms way, in order to protect you from harm.

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As for me, I have learned that I am truly a humanitarian at heart.  Not only am I willing to travel to the ends of the earth to help those in need, I am my happiest when I am living my life with the purpose of sharing Gods love.  Maybe that is through a kind gesture, or a smile.  Maybe it is simply by me “showing up” when someone is in need.

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Many of you know this has been a difficult 16 months for me, but God is teaching me much in this time with “Throb”.  Some of you have suggested that maybe it was my time in NY that caused this head pain to start.  Who knows?  Only my Creator truly knows … and each day I am getting stronger and I know my purpose is still being fulfilled.  Even if it is by me sharing my experiences, so each of you can learn from them.

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Every day I thank God for the gift of life He has given me … and I know He has tremendous plans.  And although there are times that I feel deep and gut wrenching pain for the lives that have been lost on that day, or my loved ones that have passed through the years; it just shows me how big my heart is.  It is a heart full of love for my fellow man and all humans everywhere.

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No matter who we are, our lives have purpose … I encourage you to find what makes your heart happy … and live your passion.  Today, I ask only one thing of you.  No matter what your religious belief, take time to thank your Creator for the life you have been given.  Allow yourself to look in the mirror and smile at the reflection … knowing you are loved beyond all comprehension.  Take it from someone who has gone through hell and back here on earth, and years of counseling to know …the greatest gift we can give one another, is that of our heart.  After all, if I hadn’t overslept 1/2 hour late, eleven years ago, I wouldn’t be around to tell you what a miracle life is …

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Always,

Robin

“The Sky Angel”

September 11, 2012