story1461.xml
Title
story1461.xml
Source
born-digital
Media Type
story
Date Entered
2002-08-25
911DA Story: Story
My Office in the Clouds
Lately (10/02/01), I awaken with a dread that I have not yet felt as familiar. My mind refuses to focus on the next small task in my routine that continues my life incrementally. Knowing it is a form of temporary depression and that it will pass with time... has no cure. With what seems like a absurd amount of effort, I brush my teeth, shave, shower and dress for the day. One of the ?tricks? I have learned is not to have too much time to reflect on recent events, -worse yet... -to remember. Otherwise I feel obligated to justify my efforts when I have no such true justification. It may sound like I have lost a loved one in the recent terrorist attacks... but I have not. It sounds to me that I am over-reacting, -am irrationally depressed, and listless... -but I see too many others that so closely resemble the contents of my heart to be exceptional. We ARE all in mourning... for entirely too many reasons I find.
My story, as so many stories, began with a humble obscurity. I was raised in the midwest in the small-town and farm environs. Without even knowing it, I became a mid-westerner. With the devout support of my parents to follow my dreams, I dedicated myself to pursuing a degree in the natural sciences... geology as it turned-out. After completing my graduate degree in engineering geology later in Texas, -faced with the prospects of my student loans, I searched for a solid job with career opportunities. The job market was not great in the late-1980s... although the world was rent by many changes. Factor-in that jobs for engineering geologists are ?Few and far between? I had my work cut-out in planning for me and my new bride?s future. I had to get my ?foot in the door? and gain some valuable work experience. After a few tense months of living next to my in-laws without a prospect for employment, I eventually got my first call-back on a resume-mailing. You see, we didn?t have the computer/email network back then... everything was ?connections? or ?mail and pray? with regards to resume applications. I passed my telephone interview and was offered a position as assistant geologist in the geotechnical group of the Infrastructure Group of Ebasco Services, Incorporated, New York, New York.
Ebasco was an international firm that branched into the environmental, engineering, and construction industries. It was a GE company that stood for ?Electric Bond And Shares Company -Ebasco?. They were BIG in more than 1 sense of the word. Wow! ...and they wanted me. I was not enthused by the prospect of moving to New York City, -my mid-western biases kicking-in, but as a career starter... -I was hooked. I didn?t have any other options beyond in-law witnessed loan deferments as well. In the course of a single week, I went from driving my 16-year old buick and living in a home that didn?t have central heating ($110/month rent) to being flown out to New York City at no cost to work out of the World Trade Center (WTC, 91st floor) for one of the largest construction companies in the world -sight unseen. Dreamy in the sense of the classic ?American Dream? for sure. The confidence that this experience thrust into my being during this period in my life was astounding. I learned to love areas of life that I had not known even existed -now truly and integrally dedicated to our way of life as an American. I loved to build and work as a valued member of a team of professionals. These areas too, became an essential part of my being without me knowing it.
Rather than obscure this tale with the predictable details of a burgeoning career, -just let it be known that I contributed to many successful projects for our company. I helped plan highways, pipelines, tunnels, power plants, bridges, dams... fascinating stuff. I helped complete 2 projects that were world record holders. One project, upon its timely completion, was credited with averting an regional energy crisis ...and all the associated suffering... for the New York City area from the effects of severe winter weather. They kept me busy from 1988 until about 1992. Time would have passed quickly if I weren?t suffering on the domestic front. Living in the metropolitan New York City area on an entry-level salary was rough. It is a very high cost of living area still. The complications from a job with 50% travel also took its toll. So, nearing Christmas in 1991 when my supervisor asked me if I would consider looking for other work... business was declining and I was at the low-end of the totem pole... I gave him my confident team-spirited ?no problem? and found another job within 2 weeks time. Such was my experience level. I was heading back to the mid-west, and hopefully, to a lower cost of living area. We now had a son in our young family.
Before my story continues, I find I must add some details from my time in the 2WTC tower (the tower without the antenna). First of all, it was a ludicrous place to find a geologist working out of... I was a field person for crying-out loud! I had, as low person on the totem pole, a spartan partition office (Dilbert would have been proud) which did not have a computer or even electricity necessarily. I borrowed these things when I needed them. I had 10- to 15-minutes worth of elevator rides as a component of my daily commute from Jersey. The car, -to the train, -to the subway (or ferry), -then a hike, -followed by the elevator portion in the Trade Center tower itself. I wasn?t in Kansas any more. In the world of the engineer in which I worked, I thus was forced to meet and cooperate with many people of diverse professional training and experience... administrators, executives, architects, CAD operators, security people, and every sort of engineer. I knew a lot of people even though I knew only a few very well. I valued the confidence and responsibilities they entrusted me with... we were a team. They did not know what geologist did for a living for the most part... I was done with my work by the time most of the engineers got involved. They never saw me doing anything but entering boring logs on the computer.
The 2WTC building was impressive. I have yet to experience anything from my jobs that even held a candle to my crappy ?ol partition office on the 91st floor. Whenever I looked out a window on my floor... I felt as though I were flying or floating above this city of skyscrapers. It did not seem possible that man could build this static emotional vehicle. On cloudy days... you were in a cloud. Even on the windy days when the building creaked and moaned... -when the doors wouldn?t shut due to the tower swaying in the strong winds... you winced sure- but then you grinned. The towers had issues that did affect your confidences... but they were so damn impressive... they INSPIRED you still. I never would have thought that two large and loaded planes could have hit them as they did. Many of my former co-workers are alive today due simply to the dedication and yes, love, of the engineers and construction workers who built these renaissance engines. My professional hat is off to these heros. The towers inspired you by a physical mechanism that no personal experience could substitute or simulate. It is cool to visit the towers as a tourist... but it was an ethereal experience to work there and have your own corner in the clouds. My mid-westerner preferences tired even of this magic... I would take my lunch hour... even though I packed my lunches- down on level with the ground. I would ride down, -then hike over to the neighboring winter garden in the World Financial Center complex. I ate many a peanut butter sandwich under palm trees and in sight of yachts. I felt safe. It recharged my confidence, and rested my courage. I frequently imagined many forms of engineering- and terrorist-related catastrophes. We all retain the ability to be just human. It passed the time... addressed and explained many of my emotions, and diverted my attention from the economic hypocrisy I was immersed into there. I lived the jealousy but did not despair in it. Humans can love what they know they cannot have... Americans such as I- ...can even smile. Not every dream must be mine... mine are sufficient. Terrorists note this!
My current job, the one I took after 2WTC, is at ground level back here in America?s Heartland. I have found my confidence and courage are rewarded less than they were out east... the opportunities are very much paler in potential. This is the role of maintained inspiration in our lives... to elevate our hearts and souls to reveal capabilities that would otherwise wallow in conservative pities and mundane endeavors. I am still used to the exceptional here... to be immersed in it... to take it for granted. I frustrate very easily at work. The people I work with, even though we all share a much more uniform professional training, do not begin to comprehend this aspect of my being. I tell them tales of my ?first job out of school? and they think that I am making it all up. I am a liar and play games in their eyes I can see. I hear them say and show as much. If I am wrong... then they simply don?t care. I am not sure which is worse actually. I cannot blame them... for their offices are not, and are never likely to be... in the clouds. Our tragic moments are all truly and purely human. Truthfully, they can never truly share in my memories regardless of their empathy.
My September 11, 2001 began as every day of mine begins... with a congested commute to my office and its ground-level view of Westchester, Illinois. I was 10 minutes late and, and as the senior person in the office, needed to get working pronto. Setting good examples and all that. E-mail awaited me for the first 40 minutes and was going strong still when a coworker of mine, who listens to a radio as he works, yelled... ?a plane just crashed into the World Trade Center in New York!? The pit of my stomach fell, but I had nothing to reply with... I was thrust that quickly into denial. It cannot be happening as I knew someday that it might. Somehow, I thought that it was all over since the WTC bombing in about 1994. They would not let anything happen like this again. It must be an air traffic control accident I concluded. I brought-up the CNN website and viewed images of the 1WTC tower smoking as it burned. No sooner had I finished reading my first story on the web site than my co-worker yelled out again ?Shit! Another plane just crashed into the other tower!? All I could say was ?that is no accident...? and my vision grayed a little... my sensations in general numbed. I realized later that night that I had gone into a mild shock. Much of America did the same. Much of America had only the outrage of the attack to address. I found suddenly that I had ghosts in my closet... a gaping hole in my heart... and a surreal fog descending upon my life.
By 10am, I saw the video showing the 2nd plane collide with 2WTC... slamming into my old floor. People were jumping from the buildings at heights that defied the senses in horror. This sight will haunt me forever. I was watching one of my old nightmares happen before my eyes. My chest heaved and my eyes watered over and burned. My tower collapsed with my spirit just a few minutes later. The next thing I knew... -it was 1:30 in the morning when I sent the email to my office that I would need a half-day to get my thoughts together... to cry a little more... -to salvage my courage to strive towards normality. Again, nobody in my office... my building... my life... could relate well to my torments. A BIG hole was blown into my memories... some of the most inspirational experiences in my life now had no basis in the physical world. I felt this uncontrollable urge to review my past through our old photo albums. I did not know if any of my former co-workers were to be counted among the victims then-. It, by the grace of God, turned-out that none of them were injured. But the scale of the attacks was such that nobody close to us had to be injured to have its effect on us all. America WAS attacked, not them... With the semantics of ?war? and ?crimes? aside, the entire world was transforming before our eyes... our innocence was transforming into a rage-tinged resolve... and frustration. Nothing that can be done will ever make my world right again. The most we can hope for is justice. Never has so much effort been put towards responding in justice to so few incidents. It took me 2 weeks to account for everyone on my floor... the group had been bought-out twice... 1st by Raytheon, -then by the Washington Group. I thank God every few hours for this miracle -the people I remember survived their 91-floor exodus. There is a God I know even better now. My angry guilt eased-off to a large extent. Ironically, one of my old bosses actually WAS in Kansas when I caught up with him, -looking for information via the internet. He pointed out an article relating the experiences of an architect acquaintance of ours who escaped from the 91st floor that fateful day. This article is in The New Yorker magazine (p. 71-74) in their ?Black edition? - look for Katherine?s tale. She was Katie to me then and still. I mourn not for the present nor the past... they are both ours already...-no, I mourn for the future and its prospects. Much of the world thinks the U.S. is somewhat naive to mourn for those we know not when just as many have perished in Iraq, Palestine, Afghanistan, and Israel... in Kashmir and many other places in the world. All I know is that there are a lot fewer offices in the clouds now and all that came with them. Memories alone are but a poor substitute for their magic. Will my son and daughter ever have the opportunity that I had to know this magic? To God, I pray so... May we preserve the America that God has already blest!
Lately (10/02/01), I awaken with a dread that I have not yet felt as familiar. My mind refuses to focus on the next small task in my routine that continues my life incrementally. Knowing it is a form of temporary depression and that it will pass with time... has no cure. With what seems like a absurd amount of effort, I brush my teeth, shave, shower and dress for the day. One of the ?tricks? I have learned is not to have too much time to reflect on recent events, -worse yet... -to remember. Otherwise I feel obligated to justify my efforts when I have no such true justification. It may sound like I have lost a loved one in the recent terrorist attacks... but I have not. It sounds to me that I am over-reacting, -am irrationally depressed, and listless... -but I see too many others that so closely resemble the contents of my heart to be exceptional. We ARE all in mourning... for entirely too many reasons I find.
My story, as so many stories, began with a humble obscurity. I was raised in the midwest in the small-town and farm environs. Without even knowing it, I became a mid-westerner. With the devout support of my parents to follow my dreams, I dedicated myself to pursuing a degree in the natural sciences... geology as it turned-out. After completing my graduate degree in engineering geology later in Texas, -faced with the prospects of my student loans, I searched for a solid job with career opportunities. The job market was not great in the late-1980s... although the world was rent by many changes. Factor-in that jobs for engineering geologists are ?Few and far between? I had my work cut-out in planning for me and my new bride?s future. I had to get my ?foot in the door? and gain some valuable work experience. After a few tense months of living next to my in-laws without a prospect for employment, I eventually got my first call-back on a resume-mailing. You see, we didn?t have the computer/email network back then... everything was ?connections? or ?mail and pray? with regards to resume applications. I passed my telephone interview and was offered a position as assistant geologist in the geotechnical group of the Infrastructure Group of Ebasco Services, Incorporated, New York, New York.
Ebasco was an international firm that branched into the environmental, engineering, and construction industries. It was a GE company that stood for ?Electric Bond And Shares Company -Ebasco?. They were BIG in more than 1 sense of the word. Wow! ...and they wanted me. I was not enthused by the prospect of moving to New York City, -my mid-western biases kicking-in, but as a career starter... -I was hooked. I didn?t have any other options beyond in-law witnessed loan deferments as well. In the course of a single week, I went from driving my 16-year old buick and living in a home that didn?t have central heating ($110/month rent) to being flown out to New York City at no cost to work out of the World Trade Center (WTC, 91st floor) for one of the largest construction companies in the world -sight unseen. Dreamy in the sense of the classic ?American Dream? for sure. The confidence that this experience thrust into my being during this period in my life was astounding. I learned to love areas of life that I had not known even existed -now truly and integrally dedicated to our way of life as an American. I loved to build and work as a valued member of a team of professionals. These areas too, became an essential part of my being without me knowing it.
Rather than obscure this tale with the predictable details of a burgeoning career, -just let it be known that I contributed to many successful projects for our company. I helped plan highways, pipelines, tunnels, power plants, bridges, dams... fascinating stuff. I helped complete 2 projects that were world record holders. One project, upon its timely completion, was credited with averting an regional energy crisis ...and all the associated suffering... for the New York City area from the effects of severe winter weather. They kept me busy from 1988 until about 1992. Time would have passed quickly if I weren?t suffering on the domestic front. Living in the metropolitan New York City area on an entry-level salary was rough. It is a very high cost of living area still. The complications from a job with 50% travel also took its toll. So, nearing Christmas in 1991 when my supervisor asked me if I would consider looking for other work... business was declining and I was at the low-end of the totem pole... I gave him my confident team-spirited ?no problem? and found another job within 2 weeks time. Such was my experience level. I was heading back to the mid-west, and hopefully, to a lower cost of living area. We now had a son in our young family.
Before my story continues, I find I must add some details from my time in the 2WTC tower (the tower without the antenna). First of all, it was a ludicrous place to find a geologist working out of... I was a field person for crying-out loud! I had, as low person on the totem pole, a spartan partition office (Dilbert would have been proud) which did not have a computer or even electricity necessarily. I borrowed these things when I needed them. I had 10- to 15-minutes worth of elevator rides as a component of my daily commute from Jersey. The car, -to the train, -to the subway (or ferry), -then a hike, -followed by the elevator portion in the Trade Center tower itself. I wasn?t in Kansas any more. In the world of the engineer in which I worked, I thus was forced to meet and cooperate with many people of diverse professional training and experience... administrators, executives, architects, CAD operators, security people, and every sort of engineer. I knew a lot of people even though I knew only a few very well. I valued the confidence and responsibilities they entrusted me with... we were a team. They did not know what geologist did for a living for the most part... I was done with my work by the time most of the engineers got involved. They never saw me doing anything but entering boring logs on the computer.
The 2WTC building was impressive. I have yet to experience anything from my jobs that even held a candle to my crappy ?ol partition office on the 91st floor. Whenever I looked out a window on my floor... I felt as though I were flying or floating above this city of skyscrapers. It did not seem possible that man could build this static emotional vehicle. On cloudy days... you were in a cloud. Even on the windy days when the building creaked and moaned... -when the doors wouldn?t shut due to the tower swaying in the strong winds... you winced sure- but then you grinned. The towers had issues that did affect your confidences... but they were so damn impressive... they INSPIRED you still. I never would have thought that two large and loaded planes could have hit them as they did. Many of my former co-workers are alive today due simply to the dedication and yes, love, of the engineers and construction workers who built these renaissance engines. My professional hat is off to these heros. The towers inspired you by a physical mechanism that no personal experience could substitute or simulate. It is cool to visit the towers as a tourist... but it was an ethereal experience to work there and have your own corner in the clouds. My mid-westerner preferences tired even of this magic... I would take my lunch hour... even though I packed my lunches- down on level with the ground. I would ride down, -then hike over to the neighboring winter garden in the World Financial Center complex. I ate many a peanut butter sandwich under palm trees and in sight of yachts. I felt safe. It recharged my confidence, and rested my courage. I frequently imagined many forms of engineering- and terrorist-related catastrophes. We all retain the ability to be just human. It passed the time... addressed and explained many of my emotions, and diverted my attention from the economic hypocrisy I was immersed into there. I lived the jealousy but did not despair in it. Humans can love what they know they cannot have... Americans such as I- ...can even smile. Not every dream must be mine... mine are sufficient. Terrorists note this!
My current job, the one I took after 2WTC, is at ground level back here in America?s Heartland. I have found my confidence and courage are rewarded less than they were out east... the opportunities are very much paler in potential. This is the role of maintained inspiration in our lives... to elevate our hearts and souls to reveal capabilities that would otherwise wallow in conservative pities and mundane endeavors. I am still used to the exceptional here... to be immersed in it... to take it for granted. I frustrate very easily at work. The people I work with, even though we all share a much more uniform professional training, do not begin to comprehend this aspect of my being. I tell them tales of my ?first job out of school? and they think that I am making it all up. I am a liar and play games in their eyes I can see. I hear them say and show as much. If I am wrong... then they simply don?t care. I am not sure which is worse actually. I cannot blame them... for their offices are not, and are never likely to be... in the clouds. Our tragic moments are all truly and purely human. Truthfully, they can never truly share in my memories regardless of their empathy.
My September 11, 2001 began as every day of mine begins... with a congested commute to my office and its ground-level view of Westchester, Illinois. I was 10 minutes late and, and as the senior person in the office, needed to get working pronto. Setting good examples and all that. E-mail awaited me for the first 40 minutes and was going strong still when a coworker of mine, who listens to a radio as he works, yelled... ?a plane just crashed into the World Trade Center in New York!? The pit of my stomach fell, but I had nothing to reply with... I was thrust that quickly into denial. It cannot be happening as I knew someday that it might. Somehow, I thought that it was all over since the WTC bombing in about 1994. They would not let anything happen like this again. It must be an air traffic control accident I concluded. I brought-up the CNN website and viewed images of the 1WTC tower smoking as it burned. No sooner had I finished reading my first story on the web site than my co-worker yelled out again ?Shit! Another plane just crashed into the other tower!? All I could say was ?that is no accident...? and my vision grayed a little... my sensations in general numbed. I realized later that night that I had gone into a mild shock. Much of America did the same. Much of America had only the outrage of the attack to address. I found suddenly that I had ghosts in my closet... a gaping hole in my heart... and a surreal fog descending upon my life.
By 10am, I saw the video showing the 2nd plane collide with 2WTC... slamming into my old floor. People were jumping from the buildings at heights that defied the senses in horror. This sight will haunt me forever. I was watching one of my old nightmares happen before my eyes. My chest heaved and my eyes watered over and burned. My tower collapsed with my spirit just a few minutes later. The next thing I knew... -it was 1:30 in the morning when I sent the email to my office that I would need a half-day to get my thoughts together... to cry a little more... -to salvage my courage to strive towards normality. Again, nobody in my office... my building... my life... could relate well to my torments. A BIG hole was blown into my memories... some of the most inspirational experiences in my life now had no basis in the physical world. I felt this uncontrollable urge to review my past through our old photo albums. I did not know if any of my former co-workers were to be counted among the victims then-. It, by the grace of God, turned-out that none of them were injured. But the scale of the attacks was such that nobody close to us had to be injured to have its effect on us all. America WAS attacked, not them... With the semantics of ?war? and ?crimes? aside, the entire world was transforming before our eyes... our innocence was transforming into a rage-tinged resolve... and frustration. Nothing that can be done will ever make my world right again. The most we can hope for is justice. Never has so much effort been put towards responding in justice to so few incidents. It took me 2 weeks to account for everyone on my floor... the group had been bought-out twice... 1st by Raytheon, -then by the Washington Group. I thank God every few hours for this miracle -the people I remember survived their 91-floor exodus. There is a God I know even better now. My angry guilt eased-off to a large extent. Ironically, one of my old bosses actually WAS in Kansas when I caught up with him, -looking for information via the internet. He pointed out an article relating the experiences of an architect acquaintance of ours who escaped from the 91st floor that fateful day. This article is in The New Yorker magazine (p. 71-74) in their ?Black edition? - look for Katherine?s tale. She was Katie to me then and still. I mourn not for the present nor the past... they are both ours already...-no, I mourn for the future and its prospects. Much of the world thinks the U.S. is somewhat naive to mourn for those we know not when just as many have perished in Iraq, Palestine, Afghanistan, and Israel... in Kashmir and many other places in the world. All I know is that there are a lot fewer offices in the clouds now and all that came with them. Memories alone are but a poor substitute for their magic. Will my son and daughter ever have the opportunity that I had to know this magic? To God, I pray so... May we preserve the America that God has already blest!
Collection
Citation
“story1461.xml,” September 11 Digital Archive, accessed December 21, 2025, https://www.911digitalarchive.org/items/show/11693.