Earlier this month, as we commemorated the 22nd anniversary of the losses suffered on September 11, 2001, I looked back at my own remembrances of that time so long ago. I found my journal entry dated September 14, 2001, which is below.
Gerald P. (Geep) Fisher died on Tuesday morning. We know the exact time of death. It's in every newspaper in the world. A friend of more than 18 years, Geep was an energy field. The most caring, well-adjusted, happiest person I have ever known. Geep was at ground zero, The Pentagon, Tuesday morning. In a meeting with General Maude, unaccounted for, and two other Booz-Allen employees, also unaccounted for, on a second floor meeting room in the wing that an airplane plowed into the Pentagon. I can't believe I have already referred to it as "the plane that hit Geep."
I have just returned from sitting Shiva with his wife and family. Kris and I have been friends for more than twenty-five years. Kris's beautiful life has just been ripped in shreds. We will sit Shiva again tonight. A memorial is planned for Sunday. Burial remains a mystery, as we do not know whether his body will be released, or if there is a body.
I stayed after everyone else left. Just Kris, her father, her brother Rick from New Jersey, Geep's son Jonathan and Jonathan's fiancee. The television was on. Suddenly, there was a satellite shot of New York, showing missing buildings. It was followed by a satellite photo of the Pentagon. The shot became more and more focused. There was total silence as we all sat in stunned silence at the realization that we were looking at Geep's grave on national television. I looked around. All eyes were focused on the satellite shot.
The news turned to the FBI pursuit of the terrorists and the houses in Florida. Again, the attention turned to the television. These were the people who killed Geep. Jonathan said to me, "No one should have to feel like this, except the people who did this."
As I was writing this, I got an instant message from my globe trotting friend of 15 years, Dan Dudley. Turns out, Dan is a survivor of ground zero in New York. He says, yes, thousands died, but I survived and so did so many others. We talked on the phone and he shared his story.
Dan was staying at the Marriott, across the street from the Trade Center. It's scheduled for destruction. He and his buddy had called for his car from the hotel garage. Dan went back to the room briefly. Their car was parked behind another car also called for. By the time Dan came back down, the street was filled with airplane parts. An airplane engine had destroyed the car in front of theirs. If they had left thirty seconds earlier, they would have been crushed. They got in the car and started driving south. Every other route was blocked. After awhile, traffic stopped. They got out of the car and started running, south, toward Battery Park. Dan called it "polite chaos" because no one was pushing or screaming, just running. South was the only direction they could go. Then they had to decide whether to turn left or right. Most people were turning left. Dan told his buddy, we should go in the opposite direction of where a terrorist might think most people would go. It took twenty to thirty minutes for the cloud of debris to reach them. They ended up at the river, where the least amount of debris landed. Even so, they were covered in debris and could not see their hands in front of them. Dan grabbed a women who was about to jump into the river and held her hand. There was a 1/4" of soot on everyone and everything, hiding the worse horrors.
This is the story of a survivor. His message is "We must go on, don't miss a beat.”
But, for Geep, there is a hole in this universe.