Today, on the 7th anniversary of the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, I’m going to do something a little different. Instead of rehashing my experience, I take the challenge set forth on this site, and honor three people who lost their lives in the World Trade Center on 9/11/01. I didn’t know them in a traditional sense, but these three people mean something to me. They have always humanized the attacks and allowed me to remember that innocent people died. And that it very easily could have been me. So please, if you pray remember these three people in your prayers today.
The first victim I want to honor today is Louis Minervino. He was a 54 year old father of two from Middletown, NJ, and he worked as an accountant for Marsh in the WTC. He is the closest thing to “knowing” a victim. I was a business contact of his daughter’s. I worked at a graphic design firm at the time, and Marsh McLennan was one of our clients. (Both Minervinos worked for Marsh, Louis in the WTC and Laina in midtown). Our firm printed the programs and tickets to the company’s private memorial service held at St. Patrick’s catherdral in late September, 2001 . I didn’t know that Laina had lost her father until I heard her eulogy. From what I’ve read over the years he was a loving father who devoted his life to his family. He lead a quiet life, and died too young. Rest in peace, Louis.
I always assume it is common knowledge, but I will explain. Immediately following the attacks, people made and distributed missing posters, in the futile hope that their loved ones had survived and were wandering around, confused and needing help. They were everywhere, on every mailbox and lamppost. There was a huge room divider put up in Grand Central Terminal that was covered with these missing posters from floor to ceiling. It was overwhelming and heartbreaking to look at them all. For some reason, I zeroed in on two in particular. They were both young single blonde women in their twenties. How’s that for nacissism, huh? Actually, I don’t care WHY I made the connection to them, I’m just glad I did. I want their families to know that someone remembers them BY NAME, and knows what they gave up.
The second person I would like to remember is Jeanmarie Wallendorf.
I first saw her missing posters around my Brooklyn neighborhood. She was only 23 years old, and working so hard at Keefe Bruyette & Woods. She was doing everything right, and her life was ended too soon. I was 24 at the time of the attacks, and was in a similar position to her in that I was trying to climb the career ladder. I realized the other day that she would have been 30 this year. Thinking back to all that I’ve experienced and how much I’ve grown in the 7 years between 23 and 30, I cried for all that she lost. For all that was taken from her, and it made me all the more grateful for every minute of my average, ordinary boring little life. Rest in peace, Jeanmarie.
And finally, Giovanna “Genni” Gambale. She was a 27 year old VP of Marketing. She worked on the 105th floor of the North Tower. I saw her missing poster in Manhattan in mid-September. I felt the connection to her, first because she was my sister’s age, and because she worked for E-Speed, a division of Cantor Fitzgerald, a company that suffered heavy losses. I believe something like 80% of their entire staff was killed that day. Back in 2000, when I was looking for a new job, I had been contacted by someone at Cantor Fitzgerald for an entry level drudge work type job. I decided not to apply, because I thought it might be a pain to walk down 100+ flights of stairs if there were a fire. Also, I was told that the elevators sometimes took 20 minutes, and I am not a morning person and I was afraid that I’d always be late to work. Really who thinks of shit like this? But if I had answered that email, and had gotten the job, I wouldn’t be here typing this entry. I suppose in Genni’s case in particular (although we in no way would have been equals, job-wise) I feel a sort of survivor’s guilt. Rest in peace Genni.
NEVER FORGET.
In happier times, here I am on the observation deck. I was 4, and loved every minute of it. I talked about it for weeks, and I never forgot how awesome it was to be up there. I thought of this visit when I stood on that roof on 10 West 19th Street, watching Tower 1 fall. I kept running to the edge, which as a mother, I know how nerve wracking that can be. Did I mention that my mother is afraid of heights? And the brouchure I’m holding says “The closest some of us will ever get to heaven”. Eerie, no?
