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Twin Towers

I recently read a short memoir by Kirsty Grant about the September 11 attack on the Twin Towers. It was titled Collapse. She posted her recollection on her website and invited readers to reply with their own memories of that terrible day. This was my memory..

I too watched the Twin Towers tragedy unfold on television. We stood in the reception of the serviced offices that we operated from. A group of designers that specialised in office design and planning, we were familiar with the anatomy of commercial buildings, and watched the second plane slice into the South Tower with the same understanding that a doctor would have of a projectile smashing through the anatomy of the human body.

The event had an unreal sensation about it, a block buster film quality. Like historical events such as Hiroshima or the holocaust, in terms of Man’s inhumanity to Man, it was off the mental Richter scale, difficult, almost impossible to grasp

It was later in my car heading home in a traffic queue, that the personal, the human dimension, was brought to me by wireless. On the Radio Four news the CEO of one of the companies that tenanted the Twin Towers was interviewed. He was in London, Hong Kong or an international business place somewhere. He had lost more than 700 employees. At first he was rational, then as the interview progressed he started crying. Talking and crying.

About how the company must continue, must provide for the widows and the orphans of his dead workers. It was utterly, utterly heartbreaking

Listening, I started to weep too. Taken aback at this unexpected loss of control, embarrassed, I looked sideways at the driver alongside me. She was in tears,dabbing her eyes with a tissue. The man behind had his head in his hands, and the shoulders of the driver in front were shaking. I don't think he was laughing. That day isolated in our cars, we were all in a state of shared collective grief.

I have never told anyone of this. Your wonderful story stirred an almost ineffably sad memory.

Meet The Author...
Sandy Wilson
Who Am I?

Who am I: I’m 65 years old. My life has been a journey of experiences, mostly of normality but also of sad, sometimes heartbreaking periods, funny moments, moments of hilarity.

A while ago, I started contributing stories to my daughter’s blog, stories about my, and her childhood. The stories were quite well received, a response that encouraged me to create my very own blog, and the subject matter of my writing has gradually expanded, become more diverse. Most of my working life I was a designer, so, while not well schooled in English (or to be truthful, I didn't pay attention at school) I do enjoy the craft of writing, selecting words, the construction and architecture of stories.

I hope my blog will be a lasting legacy to my grandchildren, stories that they may read long after I have shuffled off the mortal coil. But for now, much to my surprise, in the words of Elton John's song "I'm still standing after all this time.”

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