For many, Monday’s horrific reports from the streets of Boston spurred recollections of September 11. I was on the streets of Manhattan that morning, the first plane roaring directly overhead as I walked to the office. The ensuing mayhem was as much disorienting as it was frightening. I watched along with several co-workers as the second plane hit, and the towers fell, and people died. We knew that nothing would ever be the same. And, for hours, we were trapped like proverbial rats in NYC with no way out.
It wasn’t until mid-afternoon that we got word that city officials had lifted the Manhattan lockdown. I managed to squeeze onboard the first train out. Inexplicable though it was on that day, I just had to get on that first train out … and I just had to get to the woods. Somehow my gut was telling me that if I did, things would be okay again. And so I did.
I guess that’s why I smiled a bit last night when a text came in from my friend, Massachusetts State Trooper Sergeant George Hamilton. Hamilton, normally stationed in western Mass., was in Boston yesterday on special assignment for Marathon Day. He, of course, could not have known that he would become an eyewitness and first responder to tragedy.
“It was chaos, but settling down now,” he said last night. “Scheduled to come back tomorrow–and then going into the woods. I need to hear some gobbling.”
Yes you do, George. Our thoughts and prayers are with everyone in Boston.