September 11, 2001.
I was 24 years old. Living in downtown Manhattan. Sleeping in.
My then-girlfriend called me on my StarTac.
“We’re under attack.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Turn on the news.”
I turned on the news just in time to watch the first tower fall.
Called my mom. Couldn’t get through. Called again. And again. Finally got through.
“Mom, I’m okay. I’m going to walk home now.”
“Be careful.”
I walked out the door, put on my Discman…
And took the headphones off almost immediately.
It just felt wrong.
This was happening to all of New York. To all of us. And somehow I needed to be out there in it… present… together with my city, even in silence. Even just walking.
So I walked.
As I crossed Broadway to my apartment, I looked left.
A sea of zombies.
Business suits. Business dresses. Covered head to toe in soot. Faces gray. Eyes wide. Tears streaming down their cheeks. Just shuffling north in absolute silence and shock.
The whole city was silent. Eerily, unnervingly silent. A city of eight million people… and you could hear nothing.
And then I noticed the smell. Burning office supplies. Burning hair. Burning everything.
That’s when the enormity of it hit me.
I got to my apartment. We made it the meeting point. Friends trickled in one by one. We sat around calling everyone we knew… just making sure they were alive.
The scariest part of the whole day was Keith… my best friend and roommate. We couldn’t reach him for almost two hours.
And then he just walked in the door.
We hugged him like we’d never let go.
We all walked over to St. Vincent’s to give blood. Packed around the block. They turned us away. Not because they didn’t need blood. Because there weren’t enough survivors coming in to need it.
That afternoon we went up to the roof. Watched the smoke billow over Brooklyn. Two buildings that had literally been the compass of the downtown skyline… just gone.
The days that followed… vigils at Union Square… candles everywhere… and those posters. “Have you seen…” Plastered everywhere. A photo. A name. A family that still had hope.
I will never forget those posters.
Looking back, I think one of the ultimate takeaways for all of us who were there that day – we only get one life, and it can be gone tomorrow.
And honestly, that experience was no small part of the inspiration for why I created Financial Zen… helping people get to the life they were meant to live as fast as possible. Because none of us are promised another day.
That’s everything.
To every family touched by that day…
Our thoughts and prayers are with you. Always.
Never forget.