2001 September 12 Wednesday

The tower is one fire, and I'm almost to my office at 9. So I go to work. The radio reports start streaming as I start searching for data.

How do I handle tragedy? I work through it. I don't let it divert my attention from my task.

When terrorism enters the picture, I call home and calmly tell my dad and my mom I'm safe. We stay on the line until my mom needs to leave for work.

I don't know what to do. Work? Listen? Read? Watch? I do a bit of each.

I dust off my talk on death and send it to everyone I know to say I'm alive and, if I die, where I'm going. I fear not.

Today is millennial in the Heights of Upper Manhattan, but what happens in Lower Manhattan yesterday doesn't go away.

I want to call Collette.

Whitney cries on the line.