Monday, September 9, 2013

THe Uneaten Meal

This story is being reposted in honor and a memorial to 911. It's important we forgive= but never forget

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This is a part fiction, part true story of one of the most horrific days in our history. All the facts surrounding that day are true --I lived it. The fictional part examines what might have gone on in the mind of one of the victims during his last minutes of life.



The Uneaten Meal

           The watch hanging from Ian’s belt loop under his white chef jacket read 8:15. The morning rush was in full swing. Patrons sat in the sunlit posh restaurant—some drummed their fingers with impatience, others read the Wall Street Journal. Many seemed barely awake, sipping coffee for a caffeine jolt.

           Ian had worked the kitchen all morning, his third day on the job as a Sous Chef to the Head Chef. He had survived the breakfast rush; bagels with cream cheese and lox for the rushed, Quiche Lorraine for the ones too important to punch a time card. Still, most would be heading to their various jobs, many on the 104th floor below the restaurant. The conference room, a floor below the restaurant, on the 106th floor was catering a breakfast to the Waters Financial Technology Congress, serving seventy-one guests.

           Ian was preparing for the lunch entrée special; a new recipe Chef would be offering to the lunch crowd--numbering hundreds. Ian worked quickly, with dozens of cooks helping to prep the ingredients. It was a gourmet delight – an aromatic concoction of bowtie pasta swimming in a rich white cream sauce, consisting of sweet herbed butter, heavy cream, white wine and an imported parmesan cheese. Large shrimp lightly sautéed in the sauce were placed on top, sprinkled with crumbled Greek feta cheese, sweet basil and freshly ground black pepper. Parsley sprigs added décor to the plate along with a few strips of fresh grilled red pepper. Chef Mike was confident of his creative cuisine. He was not of his new Sous Chef and often hovered over him, making Ian nervous. He was glad Chef Mike would not be coming in to work until the noon rush. This entrée could not be made completely in advance and the chef wanted a few made up to insure the recipe was followed to the letter. He had a fine reputation to maintain.As customers rose to go to their perspective jobs; many glancing out of the rows of large windows overlooking the panoramic business district of Manhattan and the East River, the dining room was set up for the lunch rush.

           Ian had Chef Mike’s creation ready to be sampled as soon as he arrived for his shift. He was afraid his job depended on how well he had prepared the dish. Still, he had done his best and felt confident it would suit the perfectionist chef.

Blinding light and roaring noise shut out his world. Fire and smoke filled the entire 107th floor, screams of panicked customers and workers alike died out quickly as they were overcome by suffocation and burns. The delectible shrimp and bowtie pasta entrée was destroyed along with most of the kitchen. Neither Ian nor Chef Mike would ever know if it met the chef’s high standards. His new recipe would go uneaten, along with all the meals scheduled for that luncheon meal. Windows on the World, Manhattan’s noted and loved restaurant was destroyed. It was 8:55 and the 104th floor was incinerated.

People on other floors were spared the direct impact of the first passenger jet, Flight 11 that slammed into the first tower of the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001. The ones on the top floor, along with the people in the restaurant were trapped. There was no way down. Many ran up the staircases to the top 111th floor and climbed onto the rooftop hoping to be rescued. Ian ran with them. He helped the few people alive make it to the roof. Helicopters tried in vain to reach them but black billowing smoke prevented this, as well as bursts of flame. People succumbed to the heat and smoke and died. Others chose to jump off the top of the building, rather than burn to death. Ian was one of them.

           As he jumped, his thoughts were of his wife and their new born baby girl. It was such a beautiful day that they had planned a picnic in Central Park when his shift ended. Before Ian reached the ground, his spirit left his body. He saw his body splatter on the street below. He watched as financial wizards, secretaries, businessmen, maintenance workers, became one in the futile effort to escape the building. He saw a second plane hit the second tower, taking more lives in an instant. This plane hit closer to the top of the second tower giving more time for people below those floors to get out. Many made it, many more did not. Ian’s spirit drifted through the first tower, watching frantic people calling on their cell phones for help—some realizing their plight cried and said goodbye to their loved ones.

           911 operators, unaware of the gravity of the situation, gave wrong advice to many who called--advising them to remain inside until help came. Help, that was unable to reach most of them. Most of the ones who survived had ignored that advice and hurried to escape the building.

           New York City responded at once. Ian watched as police, search and rescue squads, and fire trucks rushed to the scene. Ambulances raced to help those who survived. People began the long trek down dark stairways, coughing and choking on thick black smoke; often meeting police and firemen on their way up the building. The heat was unbearable. Ian felt anquished, knowing that so many would never make it back down. He saw many like him who could walk through the ruins, already dead.

           The second tower imploded almost without warning at 10:05 A.M., through time held no meaning for Ian. Thousands of lives were crushed into rubble. The ambulances and hospitals set up triages for the injured. Most beds lay empty, as few made it out of the towers alive. Except for the ones lucky enough to have escaped before the first tower imploded at 10:30, there were few patients to help. Ian observed the nearly 3000 souls wandering lost throughout the ruins. Many did not yet realize that they were dead.

           The shock waves of horror extended past Manhattan, its neighboring boroughs, rippled across the country, impacted the world. America had been attacked by cowardly terrorists on her own soil. New York City wept, Mayor Guiliani wept, the free world wept. And Ian wept.

           The Chef’s new entrée in the Windows on the World would go uneaten, never sampled for its flavor. There would be many uneaten meals that day and for many days to follow. Terror, death and inconceivable destruction had taken away the appetite of the City, the nation—most of the world. It left a bitter taste in the mouths of all those who lost loved ones and those who grieved with them.

           Ian glanced through the rubble and saw his chef uniform buried beneath the debris. It held a quickly scribbled note of love to his wife and newly born baby. He hoped it would be found and given to her. He also hoped that she would tell his baby girl about her father—so that his memory would live on, even if he could not. Ian sensed that this most infamous day would never be forgotten. He wished for new twin towers to be erected for all the lost lives destroyed this day, taken so brutally. And maybe a new restaurant and new offices restored—not to replace those lost but to honor them. Perhaps there would be a new chef with an untried recipe that would be eaten and enjoyed. If that day arrived, it would signify healing in a shocked and saddened nation—a new beginning.

           Ian turned to see a horde of people of all ages and occupations gathering together. He looked up and a bright, warm light spread across the sky. He saw arms outstretched to embrace those who walked toward the brightness. He joined them.

Seventy-three employees in the restaurant died that day, all seventy-one in the conference room and an unknown number of patrons. Remnants from the Windows on the World restaurant rubble included: a dinner spoon, soup bowl, salad plate, dessert plate and coffee cup. Also found was a table lamp, champagne flute, bottle of champagne, grill scraper—and a chef’s uniform.

Author’s note: The terrorists had counted on taking out from 30,000 to 50,000 lives that earth shattering morning. Their timing was a little off and many people had not yet entered the building. However, due to the toxins in the debris, such as mercury and asbestos, many of those who spent days, weeks and even years searching Ground Zero for body parts are now dying a slow and agonizing death due to cancers of the throat, lung and esophagus. Many more will die in the ensuing years—among them, families and small children whose homes were filled with this debris; which they were told to clean up themselves. The repercussions of disease from toxins spread to Staten Island, when they helicoptered the remains to the Staten Island dump. The dump blew the toxins across the seventeen-mile- long Island and many are dying of quickly striking and fatal cancers. It is conceivable that the total count of those lost on 911 will reach 30,000 to 50,000 after all. Damn the terrorists



19 comments:

  1. Thank you for memorizing this day... thanks for sharing this blog post, Micki.
    I'm still having tears in my eyes, thinking about it, remembering...
    You're a very special person and writer, Micki!!

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  2. Good job, Micki. Like many others, I will never forget that day as long as I live. Thank you for paying tribute, I love you.

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  3. Thanks, Raani, it's imporant that we all remember-in order not to have it repeated. I'll be nervous tomorrow as I am every 911, becaue it was practically inmy own back yard.

    Hugs,
    Micki

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  4. Dear Deirdre, thanks for sharing the memories and pray we have no incidents tomorrow.

    Love, Micki

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  5. Oh Micki, this story was so amazingly written. Once I began to read this, I could not stop! The riveting details caused me to gasp in its memory of that day. Brilliantly written my dear!

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    1. Thanks, Trace, I wanted people to imagine what it might have been like for those knowing they would die and helpless to prevent it.
      Drop by again.

      Micki

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  6. Micki, what a remarkable story! I remember reading this story for the first time. So glad you decided to repost it. Wish my memory had been better and I would have included it on Awakenings.

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    1. Sharla, I wanted to ask you to post it and time just got away from me sand I got sick and was late posting it myself. Pictures would have been great.
      Love, Micki

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  7. I still remember sitting in the grocery store parking lot that day, hearing the reports of the first plane hitting the tower. My brother-in-law worked as an IT contractor for the DoD at the time, and his building was near the Pentagon. We were frantic about him after that plane hit, but fortunately, he was all right. Terrible that the same could not be said of so many, many others.

    Thank you for this memorial to all who died that day, and to those who lived through it.

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  8. Diane, yes I think it was the worst thing that's happened on our shores--reminding me of the Holocaust. I will never feel completely safe in my own country again. Thanks for stopping by.
    Micki

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  9. Hello My Dear Friend,

    As I read this, goose bumps came over my arms and tears came to my eyes. What a tragedy! It will affect the lives of Americans for years. Twelve years have passed but the consequences, the aftermath, and the effects of this horrendous crime have not been overcome.

    There is a hate in the world that is blanketed in fanaticism, and it has hit the United States. It is something that I never wanted to see happen in my own country. It is something that I hope never happen again.

    Thank you for this short story that shows the life of Ian. Even though it is fiction, it could be true. Men and women left home that morning and the world was in order; that afternoon the world was upside down and families, fathers, mothers, wives, and children, were searching for their love ones that would never come home.

    I think it is very appropriate to say today: God bless America, Home of the Brave, Be beside her and guide her, with the light that shines from above. From the mountains to the prairie, to the oceans, white with foam, God bless America, my home sweet home.

    Shalom,
    Patricia

    P.S. I changed some words in this song, Home of the Brave is sung as land that I love, and Be beside her is sung as Stand beside her.
    Love you, Micki.
    Shalom

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    1. Thank's Pat for your expressive and moving words. In many ways I think we brought this upon ourselves by not stopping terrorism in its tracks in the 70's when it first began. Now it's like cockroaches--kill one and a million come to the funeral.

      Thanks for commenting.

      Love, Micki

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  10. How moving! Micki, your 9/11 blog touches the hearts of all who read it.

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    1. Thanks, Sal, I take that as a high compliment from a writer as prolific and outstanding as you.

      Micki

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  11. Micki, your story kept me riveted. As one who, from a great distance, watched those planes hit, I knew we'd sustained a horrific loss of life, all snuffed out in an instant. But I can't forget that it was thousands of human instances. Your story covered just one such life lost. I found it authentic and I felt the suffering.

    For quite a while, following 9-11, people would ask others, "where were you when 911 hit?" I was in bed. I remember a very loud hoard of screams, all at once, issuing from inside my head. My husband says I shot straight up. I jumped into my slippers and hurried out to the living room. My daughter, not all that surprised to see me, said, "mom, I think a plane was driven right through the World Trade Center." She looked so stricken with grief. She knew hundreds, perhaps thousands of people died or were dying as she watched. Tears rolled down her face.

    I had been virtually thrown out of bed by screams in my head; I needed to prepare my daughter for the rest of it. I told her, "I don't think it's over yet." As we turned our attention to the television screen, we saw another plane flying toward the second tower. I saw my daughter, silent and shaking her head, "no," but the plane kept advancing. When it hit that second tower, we both screamed. My husband came running out, fully dressed by then; I know he asked what was going on, but I don't think either my daughter or I answered him. I honestly can not remember a thing about that day, after the second plane hit. Your slice-of-life tragedy was so vivid, it took me there, to the place and time before the second strike. And I remembered, all over again. Thank you.

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    1. Anne, it's so important that we never forget. Many people in this story were real people. The restaurant owner of "Windows of the World" was late and lived to rebuild another restaurant. My son-in-law a search and rescue first responder was in the second tower and as my daughter drove to me, I couldn't tell her until I knew he got out just seconds before it imploded--so many stories, so many lives. That's the thing about terrorists--they focus on innocent civilans rather than military for the most part, which just shows their lack of honor or humanity. Loved having you drop by.


      Miki

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  12. Micki, I watched the tragedy on TV in real time and was so stupid as to believe it was a trailer of yet another catastrophe movie until the truth hit me. It was impossible to get through to New York that day - all the telephone lines were jammed. I grieved with and for America, and will never forget. Your story is poignant and beautifully written, and yet it's not just a story, but one of the worst life experiences translated into narrative. Thank you for posting it.

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  13. Dear Marta, thank you for reading it. I was afraid making it part fiction would somehow dishonor it, but I wanted the world to have some idea of what might have gone on in the minds of those who knew they were going to die.

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  14. That was a very moving story, Micki.
    Although I was far away in Scotland, it was a memorable day for me, too. I do a twice monthly blog posting on http://writingwranglersandwarriors.wordpress.com (my latest post was yesterday,14th) but the one before was by a friend-Kate Wyland-who also wrote about 9/11. A brief story of what happened to me on 9/11 is in the comments section of Kate's post. If you've time to read it, you'll see the event affected people all over the world.

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