Tthe story of Judith Kaplan
Looking out my roommate's window I could see the black smoke as the twin towers of the World Trade Center burned and then collapsed sixty blocks away. I've lived in New York all my life and it took only a second or two to realize that people I knew who worked in the towers might already have died. This is my city. That was my skyline, my buildings. The lobby of our apartment house was complete pandemonium. Some of our building's residents had run the three miles north, covered in ash, crying hysterically. We live quite close to the Empire State Building and we were terrified it would be next. Out on the street all we could do was watch. Can you imagine military vehicles lumbering down Lexington Avenue? It became so difficult to breathe we had to cover our faces when we walked outside. A distinct smell permeated the air and lasted for months after the attacks. It was completely diffeent from the burning odor we're all familiar with.
My roommate and I were desperate to help in some way. We gathered food and socks and towels for the Red Cross, but it seemed like such a small thing. Hundreds had already shown up to give blood but that wasn't an option for me. There was little to do and it hurt not to be able to aid the city or the hundreds, even thousands of people affected. I didn't know it at the time, but an opportunity to help was about to present itself...
