Vanessa Borg

'I Wanted to Share My Thoughts With You'

9-11-01

Today I look back on the past 2 days and think I should be waking up from this really bad dream right about now. Unfortunately, my nightmare, America’s nightmare, is a brutal reality. A reality, which tested our strength, our integrity as a nation, our unity as a people, and our belief in the American Dream.
On Tuesday September 11, 2001 I woke up to what seemed like a normal day. I got up at about 8am and started getting ready for my first class, which began at 10. I put on Good Day NY like I do almost every morning, and I began to eat my cereal and watch the morning news. At about 8:45 or so, the news channel flickered and went out for like a slit second. About 3 minutes later Jim Ryan and Lynn Brown began talking about “Breaking News” apparently a plane had flown into one of the building of the World Trade Center. The first thought that came to my mind was about he poor people on this plane. But then I thought, how could a pilot fly into one of the twin towers in this crystal clear weather. My questions were answered, no more than 10 minuets later a second plane hit the second tower of the World Trade Center. And life as we know it will never be the same again.
Shocked, scared, and confused I didn’t know what to do. I called my father and he wasn’t at his desk. I kept running back and forth to look at the television, not wanting to believe my eyes, but at the same time so transfixed that I was paralyzed. I called my mom and told her “Mom 2 planes just hit the World Trade Center, put on the TV!” and I hung up. I was in a daze, I had no idea what I was doing. I got my book bag and walked out of my house, like everything was normal. But it was a far cry from that, I went to school thinking that maybe it was all just my imagination, and besides everyone seemed to be going about their normal activities.
I got to school and overheard a few people talking about the incident, but the initial shock didn’t seem to set in. The professor arrived and he said to us that he doesn’t know if he should be conducting the class since the World Trade Center “is in ruins”. Our class went into a frenzy, “what??” we all said. The professor explained to us that the buildings both collapsed. Panic, shock, fear, anger, and a whole range of emotions waved through the classroom. And a cloud of debris hung over lower Manhattan.
My walk home was the scariest and surreal thing I have ever experienced in my life. What seemed like the whole population of Manhattan was walking uptown in a zombie-like daze. I felt like I was the only person walking downtown, but I had to get home. My walk from 68th street and Lexington Ave. to 56th street and 1st Ave. was anything but normal. Droves of people walking with blank stares on their faces. I walked home thinking of what monsters could do such a thing. In between tears and feeling the need to scream from anger I kept walking, the whole way with goose bumps and a chilling feeling unlike any other I had felt before.
When I got home, the images were worse than I imagined. Pure horror on the TV. It was like watching a movie, only one thing, these were not special effects, this really happened. Could it be? The twin towers, which were once looked upon as a landmark of our city and our country no longer stood. It’s just then you realize how many people are involved. The news reporters start giving numbers, as many as 20,000 they say. More than one can imagine. Some one has to pay for all this. But who? As the day progresses, fingers point towards Osama Bin Laden, anti-American millionaire who apparently has more than a few screws loose. With a significant network of worshipers, he is the epitome of evil power. What makes him and his associates even more dangerous is that they are willing to give their lives, to end the lives of others. Just as they proved with the planes they hijacked.
As the story unfolded, things couldn’t get much worse. American integrity was questioned and its people, saddened. But instead of focusing our fear and confusion into anger, New Yorkers instead became unusually helpful. Lines to donate blood had over a 5 hour wait. Rescue workers had more food than they could eat. This was the true spirit of New York. Nothing a terrorist could ever take away from us.
Waking up Wednesday morning, I thought to myself, was it really a dream? Once again I was wrong. The second day was far worse than the first. The dust settled, the thoughts coming together in out heads, and the grim reality of the amount of people buried under 110 stories of rubble. Rescue efforts were not even putting a dent in the huge mound of debris. People began coming foreword with their heart wrenching stories of their missing loved ones. All hope seemed lost, but the rescue efforts pushed on. Burdened with the threats or remaining fires, shaky buildings, wet feet, and heavy hearts, New York’s finest, bravest, and most heroic individuals dug their way into a twisted and chaotic mess. Some with bulldozers, others with their bare hands, everyone was eager to do what they could to help alleviate the pain and horror of the most horrific and deadly tragedy in history.
And while this story is far from over, an interesting realization has come over the people of New York. They care for one another. Everyone is genuinely happy to see friends or co-workers, because we all know in the back of our minds that not everyone is as lucky as we are to be with the ones we love.
Tonight’s forecast is rain. As if a devastated financial district, lost lives numbering in the thousands, dwindling survivors pulled from the wreckage, the fear of an asbestos threat and hundred and hundreds of bodies what will begin to decompose within the next day or so are not enough elements to deal with, now the worry of rain. And while the inclement weather may dampen the bodies of our heroes, its will not even touch the American spirit. Nothing has, nothing will. If anything, these events have brought us together as people, as the human race. Together we will begin to make some sort of sense in our personal lives, and try to return to normalcy seems as foreign as the terrorists who raged their hatred upon us. But we will get through it. God bless America, truly the land of the free and the home of so many brave.


Vanessa Borg
nadurchic@aol.com
09-13-01

This is a Meditation Our Vanessa wrote in High School at the age of 14.
It was the Year of May,1996

As the power from deep within me filled up an imaginary circle it took on a color. Green. Flashes of different shades of Green unfolded before me. This immense amount of power was drawn in through my feet first, rising into my knees, then up to my thighs, my chest, down my arms and into my hands.
I entered the most beautiful room imaginable. In this room there were elaborate tapestries, the richest wallpaper, and a huge velvety sofa with a breathtaking view of a lake out the window. At the very end of my ''God Room'' there was a door.But, unlike any other door it could not be opened normally. I was the only one who knew how this door could be opened. So I did open it and as I entered the next room I found myself standing on top of a glittering crystal staircase. As I went down this staircase, I felt as if I was floating, not walking. At the end of my staircase there was another door. At first it looked kind of strange. Then I noticed something peculiar. This door looked very much like the cover of a Bible. I looked even further and found that on the cover of this’ Bible'' there was ''Jesus and Vanessa’ written in the most beautiful gold calligraphy ever. I opened the door in the same was I did the others and found myself standing in a lush field.
I continued walking and found something at my feet. I t was a flower. I picked it up and held it. As I walked through this lush field I came to a babbling brook. I noticed it was pretty wide for a brook. I swam across it with much ease. When I reached the other side, I walked across a smaller field. At the end of this small field I came to a path that was obstructed with branches and leaves. I picked up one of the branches and began to clear the path. Soon it became wider and wider and wider, until it became a road.
I was hesitant to walk down this road, although I am not sure why. I was still hesistant.A little way down the road; I saw a group of people talking. As I approached them I noticed one of them was Jesus. He called me over and introduced me to his friends, who seemed to have been the Disciples. They were all very friendly. I stayed and talked to them a while. Yet I do not remember what I talked about. Jesus said that he was going to be on his way. He asked if I would join him. I said ''yes'' and we said our good byes to his friends. I said it was very nice to have met them. Jesus and I were on our way. We walked through a very pretty hamlet with two general stores, a bakery, a school, and a spectacular church which appeared to be made completely out of marble. I could not help but to ask Jesus;’ what church is this?’ He answered;’ This is the House Of God''I walked up to the front of the church and placed the flower I had found earlier on the feet of the Virgin Mary statue.
I continued to walk with Jesus and I soon noticed that we were walking up hill. We continued walking and the hill became steep. I noticed that neither of us were getting tired from the strenuous walk. We finally reached the top. There were many people up there sitting or talking or even praying. From up there I noticed I could see my house. It was very close actually. I saw my Parents and friends all laughing and talking and having a very good time. All of a sudden I got this terrible homesickenss.Jesus noticed I was upset and asked me what was wrong? I told Him I wanted to go and be with my family. In an instant I was in my living room telling my family about my Journey. Strangely enough nobody believed me.

Vanessa's Teacher wrote,’ a very powerful meditation. It is very clear and beautiful.'' A+

Dear Vanessa,

                        A bouquet of beautiful memories,
                        Sprayed with lots of tears,
                        Wishing God could have spared you,
                        If just for a few more years.

                        It does not take a special day,
                        For us to think of you,
                        Each Mass we hear,
                        Each prayer we say,
                        Is offered up for you.

                        We cannot bring the old days back,
                        When we were all together,
                        Our family chain is broken now,
                        But memories live forever.
    
                                                                 With much love
                                                                             
                                                                               Aunty Rita, Uncle Sam, Samantha,Brandon,Zachary
                                                                                                                         George & Little Preston.
                                                                                                                                    xxxxxx