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Diary of Lee Whitlock , A Visitor to New York

This is going to virtually everyone who keeps up with my travels, and I'm always free about telling you where I'm going and what I'm going to do. Therefore, most of you know that I'm in New York today.

I am safe.
I am sad.

My tender Southern side has welled up several times and I've been close to tears. This hardly compares, but it is close to the emotions I felt after the Oklahoma City bombing. I have no connection. I am totally connected.

I was in the World Com building (Sprint) at 380 Madison Avenue when this happened. A woman who was late for class came in and announced that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. That was all the information she had. We assumed that it was a small plane that was off course. We worked until a break at approximately 10:30, and, of course, we found out that we were a nation virtually at war and certainly felt like a city under siege.

After the break, over half of my class had left and 6 of the remainder headed for a hotel room to monitor the activities. I stayed for a while and tried in vain for a long time to get a phone line.

About 12:30 p.m. I began the walk to my hotel which was in the direction of the World Trade Center. I'm at the Holiday Inn near the Empire State Building. At about 40th street all the way to 32nd street (where the hotel is), there was not traffic on the street. People were walking on the sidewalk and down the street itself. I kept thinking of the lyrics from "Easter Parade:" "On the avenue, 5th avenue, the photographers will snap us..." I went into a photo shop and bought a disposable camera. From the vantage point of 5th avenue toward the towers, one could see smoke rising still at 1:30 p.m. The bombing was at 8:30 a.m. Thus, after 5 hours the smoke had not cleared and still hasn't at this writing.

As I walked 5th avenue, hand painted signs were in some windows announcing that shops had been closed. Some were still open. As I walked, I happened upon two women sitting about 2 feet apart and one was explaining what she had seen. I paused and listened in. Tragedy makes family. The other woman then explained that she was supposed to be in the building but was taking the day off.

The city is full of rumors and people. It will take, of course, hours for the truth to seep through the chaos. Right now, I understand, that there are no flights leaving the city. I've been told that people are being let out of the city, but people are not being let in. There are other "scares." The hotel Roosevelt, where some of my participants are staying, had a bomb scare. There was a bomb threat/scare at Grand Central Station.

Right now I'm seeing what you are seeing. TV. I am mindful of so much right now. The maid just left the room and she and I talked at length about the senselessness of all this. I am usually polite to "service people," but we seldom have time or occasion to talk. Here I am an American Business Man in a $250 a night hotel talking to a woman, probably making minimum wage, and we are separated by much, I'm sure, but we are joined in the grief we feel.

This should end. This epistle. This senseless tragedy should as well.

For those of you that called, thank you.

Love,
Lee

Day 2

First of all, I am so grateful for the many emails that have come my way. I am a bystander. Events have happened around me. I am safe. The weather here is amazingly beautiful. I have not a care in the world. Yet, just 20 blocks away from this spot, I am told, there is what appears to be a war zone.

The proximity to the "zone" has created some problems and an unusual lack of activity here in NYC. Traffic (both pedestrian and auto) is at virtually a stand still. I had not received word as to whether my class with Sprint had been canceled, so the only logical course was to "suit up and show up." I had a box of books in my hotel room that needed to be taken to the site about 15 blocks (approximately 1.5 miles) away. I decided that I would take a cab. How hard can that be? Down on the street, I couldn't find a cab. Several passed, but none were available. I hoisted the box from hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder and walked first one block and then another until finally I was down to just one more block. It's amazing what you can do if you do it "just one block at a time."

At the Sprint building (380 Madison Avenue) I was informed that no one was on the 6th floor. I asked if I could leave the books, but I was told that nothing could be left. The guard was gracious. The guard was firm. But the answer was no. I asked if there was a FedX office near by, and I was directed to 5th Avenue and 48th street. Just a couple more blocks. Once there, I found that it, like most of Midtown and Lower Manhattan, was closed. This time I stood on a corner and flagged a couple of dozen cabs and finally got one back to my hotel.

Eating, riding cabs, and even having my room cleaned, I am tipping like crazy. I'm so grateful that people are working. Most, of course, need to be working. Those that are getting my tips are missing others from those people who are not coming in. Those with more generous incomes are allowed to feel their grief back home with family, or, worse, they are waiting word to hear about cousins or uncles or sons or daughters or husbands or wives.

As I have received your emails and watched the news, it seems as if the country is reacting far more radically than New Yorkers. I understand there are gas lines and lines at the grocery store making sure that there is plenty of toilet paper at home. Here in New York, while there is grief and a disruption of course, New Yorkers are playing and working and eating. In restaurants when something significant happens, like the President's address to the nation, activity stops, but then it is resumed.

Last night I ate at a bar/restuarant near my hotel. It was the only thing open. The din of dialogue was almost unbearable, then Bush came on and there was silence except for his public vows of vengeance. More violence. I was saddened. Then he finished and glasses were again being raised, forks being banged against plates, and life resumed.

I'm meeting my buddy Dan McBride for lunch in a few moments. I'm grateful that at this moment in this city someone I know is near by to share time with me.

More later, perhaps.

Thanks for thinking of me.

Lee

Day 3

The news reports keep saying it...surreal. They are right. It is so eerie to walk out on the streets and see them virtually empty. I had New York as my territory when I was with my last company, so I was here fairly often, and I'm used to hustle and bustle. There is none.

Today my buddy Dan and I sauntered up to the corner and found a couple of typical New York diners that were open. Food tastes diverged, and like typical tourists, he went in one place to get a chicken sandwich and I went into another to get a couple of pizza slices. Then we joined together at a prescribed table at the chicken place. At lunch time in any lunch place on any street in New York, "rush" is the operative word and motion. There was no rush. We sat at the same table for about 3 hours, then we sauntered back.

Tonight dinner was at a restaurant behind the NY public library. Wonderful food. Wonderful atmosphere. Hardly any people. I was surprised that it was open. No reservation was necessary, and we had our pick of any outside table (or inside) that we wanted. We stayed outside.   Afterward we walked up to Times Square to see all the changes there. I would not have recognized it. I can't believe how 42nd street looks now. In addition to the changes that were there, again the streets were strangely empty. I began walking back and was stopped about 38th street by police barricades.

It seems that there was a bomb threat at the Empire State Building. The ESB is just a block or two from my hotel, and everything in that area had been evacuated. Finally, the streets were open, and I had begun to get the "sauntering attitude" of New Yorkers. I sauntered. Once back at the hotel, they weren't letting us back in yet. All of the guest were outside on the street waiting permission to get back in. People were in PJ's, barefoot, and just about every other imaginable attire. I saw some guy in a pink tutu with a pink boa. I wonder what room they were in and what kind of party they were having. At last it felt like New York.

What about "Escape from New York?" It doesn't look good. I've extended my stay in the "Bitter Apple." I called Delta and American Express Travel, and they tell me that planes are still not in the air. Tomorrow they hope to begin "repositioning." I understand this to mean that planes that were diverted will be "re-verted" to where they were going. People who ended up where they didn't want to be will be first in line to be carried to places they originally intended. Then they will get to those of us who got where we wanted to go but were forced to stay too long. It's a small, small price to pay to be safe and sound in my hotel room, even if it is very late. I still love New York.

I like the attitude that New Yorkers have about this "event." They have been heroic and they have been blaise. Overheard conversations (I turn up my hearing aids so I can listen in) alternate between terror and tenderness. Some people can't seem to stop talking about "it," and others don't want to talk about "it" at all. People laugh and smile and then seem self conscious about feeling mirth with misery so close by.

A close-to-home human interest story. I used to work with a wonderful woman named Denise Delonde (even a wonderful name) at Holden. Denise has lived in NYC for many years, and about a year ago went to work with a firm that is located near the Twin Towers. Denise's family has been in town for the week and before she left for work on Tuesday, her sister asked her to turn on the TV to the local news. You already know what she saw. Denise didn't go to work, and this act of serendipity saved her life.

There will be a hundred stories like this. There will be thousands that end so tragically.

I've been so heartened by your emails. The message that has come through most often is that you have taken time to tell someone how much you love them over the past few days. Suppose, just suppose, that outpouring of love continued after things have gone back to normal in America? Just suppose. Maybe there would be no need for the "noisy gongs" of fire engines and cop cars, for we would have the love that Paul talked about. Perhaps.

You are on this email list because I love you, and I have felt your love in return. Thank you.

See you all soon,
Lee

Day 4

I think I'm coming home. So much, of course, is in the air, so to speak. Perhaps more correctly because so much (i.e., airplanes) are not in the air, there is an element of insecurity still about that.

One of the advantages of my many travels these past months is that I am "Platinum" with Delta. I have a special number and I get somewhat special treatment for flying. What that means is that they have me on a 6:00 a.m. flight tomorrow. That means getting to the airport by 4:00 a.m. May I continue? That means leaving for the AP at 3:00 a.m. That means getting up at 2:00 a.m. Does it mean more? I think I'll leave it at that.

Who said New Yorkers were brusque and unfriendly? William the bell hop here at the Holiday Inn has been an endless source of information and help. I told him this a.m. that Dan would be joining me for breakfast, and William walked him into the restaurant to my table. Cora, the housekeeper for my room, has been a delight and has cleaned the room around me. I asked if she lived here on Manhattan. "No, I come in from Jersey." She's been here daily. Restaurants that are open seem to have found the most pleasant people in the area to be servers. Cab drivers, when I could get one, do still seem to be a bit nuts. In addition, there have been nameless people to which no task is assigned that have shown extreme politeness as well. At a door, someone will step aside and say, "After you." I've seen people at elevators (especially after everyone was evacuated from the Holiday Inn) step aside and let someone else take the last squeezable place. Only one exception to this was a gentleman who bull dozed his way to the head of the line to keep another key to his hotel room. Several people in the rush had left their keys in the room as they spilled out into the street. This man pushed his way ahead of others, and then after getting his keep, almost simultaneously with me, he came to the elevator I was taking and he pushed his way onto the elevator ahead of others. Perhaps he had some urgent business. In 4 brutal days in the city, that is the only view of inconsideration I've seen.

As I walk the street, I am amazed at the number of police officers that are in this city. Virtually every street corner has two cops per corner. Eight per block. All are polite. Even last night when I asked an officer what was going on that I was not being allowed back to my hotel, this young cop said gently, "I really would advise you to move back as far as possible." I said, "How about Jersey?" He smiled faintly and said, "That's a good start."

The worst thing personally about this trip so far for me is that there ain't no grits in this town! No wonder the city never sleeps. Grits are pabulum for a Southerner!

The afternoon

I finally got out with Dan to go and meet Denise (see above) for lunch. It was delightful to see her and to ask: "What does it feel like as a New Yorker to have this kind of thing happen?" Her answers are similar to the rest of ours.

On the way to see Denise, Dan and I took a cab. New York was back to normal. Too crowded. We took a $5.00 cab ride for two blocks. What we encountered was grid lock around the Port Authority building. Another bomb scare. Crowds were on the streets and traffic was snarled.

We went to a neighborhood diner with Denise and her sister-in-law from Orlando who is also stranded here in the city. (If you want to know about NY neighborhoods, read the last chapter of Charles Kauralt's last book. Then Dan and I hoofed it back to our hotel about 15 blocks away. NY is a walking city.

On the way to meet Denise, I heard some other "news." Many of you know that my Avalon was parked on a Louisville street three weeks ago, and someone who was out too late (3:30 a.m.) and was doing things that he shouldn't have done plowed into the back of it. His "high risk" insurance company called me to tell me that my car had been totaled. One more thing to work on.

I'm off to meet an old friend for an early dinner and then return to the hotel to get a few winks (I hope) before getting up way too early. Pray that I get home tomorrow. I have many miles to go before I sleep.

I hope this finds you well and happy and celebrating your health and wealth.

Lee

I hope by the time you read this, I am on my way to Louisville. I hope. You pray. I'm to be on a 6:00 a.m. flight, and I'll be sending this late at night after having checked with Delta. (Well, that was overly optimistic! As many of you have heard, at least two more teams of terrorist were caught trying to board planes at LaGuardia and Kennedy. The airports have been closed, and I'm still here on this island. I'm stopping people on the street today and asking them to "vote me off the island!"

I am mindful of how lucky I am in all of this. I'm here on an expense account and in a nice hotel. I don't have to worry about being homeless. I've seen stories of more than a few people who are trapped here and are running out of money. One story is of a couple of young English people who saved up their money to take this dream trip to our country. (This is still a dream country that beckons to people all over the world.) They had enough money for the trip, their prescribed nights in hotels, and modest meals. The money ran out. The happy ending to this story is that someone heard of their plight and have taken them in. New Yorkers! Go figure. Getouttahea. Or, as we Southerners would say "Gitoutofheaar."

Somehow I'm only encountering wonderful New Yorkers. I took a cab to Central Park last night for dinner. My "cabbie" was from New York and Mexico. He's been in NY for 10 years. This is home for him. I shared with him that I was recently in Mexico City, and we began sharing. What was clear was that this man has found a home in this country. He loves this island. He loves these people. He loves this country.

At the restaurant, we were give a table by a delightful black man with a beautiful accent and a beautiful tie. I commented on the tie, and a conversation was begun. After some "trust building sentences," he shared a bit about some of the crazy actions that had been directed toward him and some friends of his. One of his friends is a bus boy at "The Boat House Restaurant" in Central Park, and some people whose only claim to humanity is that they walk upright and have white skin have hurled racial jibes at them. I wish you could have seen this young man's smile; I wish you could have seen heard this young man's intelligence; I wish you could have felt the warmth of his personality; and the tie wasn't bad either.

One more personal story. I mentioned Cora, the lady who cleaned my room daily, even when clean towels and sheets weren't available. Today Cora called and left me a message thanking me for my friendship and offering her prayers for me, my family, and my friends. That's us, folks. Can you imagine? A woman we've never met who has entered our lives. I was grateful this week for the constancy of her presence. When all about me were losing their heads and blaming it on unnamed, unseen people, Cora showed up with her broom and bucket and vacuum cleaner. She was the one thing I grew to depend on each day to be there. Each day she took a bus in from Jersey to clean my room. Thank you, Cora.

Dan and I have vowed to meet this a.m. for breakfast. We're gonna buy some crayons and butcher block paper and plan our except from this island. (This may be one of those "you had to be there insider jokes.") Diagrams, rental cars, and swimming across the Hudson are involved. In short, both of us want to go home. Both of us thought "today was the day." Both of us had multiple reservations on flights. I keep thinking patience is wearing thin, but then I remember how lucky I am. Part of that luck, that sense of well being comes from you! Thank you for being "with me" here. I have not felt alone because of your email and prayers.

Below is a more personal, more pointed story of what this week was all about. It puts another human face on what happened. A friend of mine had received it and passed it on to me. It will be self explanatory:

"I hope you don't mind but the following email is from my dear friend Lilian,who I grew up with in the wonderful town of Baton Rouge. I am forwarding this to you because it is an eyewitness account of what happened. I think
we were all having an average day until about 9am September 11, 2001. The message follows:


Dearest friends,

Thank you so much for all your concern over the past 24 hours. I am okay, shaken and feeling almost guilty that I can still sleep in my own bed tonight. I woke up yesterday morning and it was a gorgeous day in New York City. As I was headed out the door to work, I heard over the television that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. I was very concerned about this and started calling my boyfriend immediately since he works in the WFC but all the cellular phones were down and not working. I grabbed my things and headed to my office. Some people in the office didn't even hear the news yet and most people were confused. By the time I got to my office, the second airplane hit Two World Trade. That's when people started panicking because then we knew it was a terrorist attack. I ran out onto the street trying to call my boyfriend again but I couldn't get any connection. People everywhere started pouring into the streets frantically trying to call on their cell phones but what we didn't know at the time was that our cell phone communication tower was ontop of the WTC.

Our first instinct was to walk towards the WTC. As strange as that sounds now, I walked downtown awestruck at the sight of the smoking towers asking myself who could have done such a terrible thing? Little did I know the
devastation that would come minutes later. People started screaming that One World Trade collapsed and I still couldn't believe it until I walked a little further to see only one tower standing. I was not able to get in touch with anyone in the city and that's when I started to get scared. There was no where to run or hide and the streets no longer felt safe. Police cars and ambulances whizzed by us as many of our city's bravest were about to perish as well. A few moments later, I saw Two World Trade collapse in what looked like a slow motion Hollywood movie. My heart
stopped beating for several moments and I knew I had just seen the most horrific thing I could ever see in my lifetime. It was so surreal, like a bad dream that you wished you could wake up from. The top of the building slowly started crumbling and then increased in speed and velocity until each layer pancaked on top of each other and then totally collapsed. Everyone gasped and stood there starring at an empty space engulfed in smoke and flames. There once stood the symbol of our city's skyline and in the rumble was thousands of our city's people. I started headed uptown away from the World Trade and I saw over the big screen TV that the Pentagon was also attacked. The timing of these destructions and the magnitude of its mayhem was enough to make me sick. Thank god my oyfriend called me a few moments later and told me to go home. He saw the second plane fly above him and slam into the tower where debris and rumble fell everywhere. People were holding hands and jumping from the buildings and others were running in chaos. He ran back and we met at home.

Did I know anyone that perished in the World Trade? I am not sure yet but I traveled through the World Trade every day until last month when my projected ended. I took the 8:25 am E train into WTC and sat among many
commuters who are most likely not here today. I ate dinner last week at the top of One World Trade, a restaurant called "Windows of the World", where I admired the magnificent view of New York from the 106th floor. I doubt any of the staff from there are with us today. In May, I went to One World Trade where I met with a group from Lehman Brothers to discuss a possible job career with them. I am not sure if any of those I met that day are here anymore. More incredible is that my boyfriend's father was on his way to Taipei flying UA from Newark to San Francisco. Right after he had boarded the plane, security took the passengers off and secured the airport. Later they learned that the UA flight on the same route scheduled a hour earlier had been hijacked and crashed.

I know my story is trivial to the stories of those that have suffered and lost loved ones. But I am grieving and hurt. I am angry that the sun has the right to rise over this city with its beautiful rays of light this morning. I could not sleep all night and was devastated. It is morning now and I am angry. Not angry at God but at the world. I know I should not feel like this but it is difficult not to. The rest of the world is watching and grieves too but the devastation and loss to the people of New York is just too much to bear. For every person that perished, there is a family and
community affected too.

As for me, I am staying in New Jersey now with friends and am fine. I promise to write more updates when things settle here. I am going to donate blood this morning, it is the least I can do.

I beg you all to please spend a moment to remember those that have died in
the tragic events yesterday and pray for those that are still missing.

Love,
Lil"

I am slow.
Slow witted.
Far too often that is my fate.
I have been slow to realize the trauma that has been visited upon those that are on the edges of this tragedy. The human spirit has been damaged for those at the edge. Their bodies are unscathed, but they are damaged in that emotions flood in and they (we) simply do not know what to feel.

An image. The photograph that will come out of this event as the one that symbolizes the triumph of the human spirit shows a setting very similar to the raising of the flag at during WWII and that has been cast in Bronze in Washington, DC. A New Jersey photographer talked his way onto a ferry to get closer to the World Trade Center. Around 4 o'clock he caught three firemen raising the American flag over the rubble. A photograph is worth more than a 1000 words, but here is what I saw. The scene in that area all day had been grey and white. Ash. Whatever color there had been in this colorful city had been masked by the ash from the falling towers. Imagine. Then color came back because of the bravery of three firemen. Color. Red, White, and Blue. That symbol for me was the returning of color to the cheeks of all Americans. Against an ash white background, this symbol of our nation returned.

More color came back. I remembered a song from Vacation Bible School: "Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in his sight. Jesus loves the little children of the world." I also began seeing against the ash white backdrop of that drama people who were red and yellow and black and white standing shoulder to shoulder bringing color to the cheeks of America.

I heard voices with accents I couldn't descibe. Some I could. The Bronx was there. An Irish sounding cop spoke to the camera. There was even a Southerner thrown in the mixture. In New York Uptown, the American Melting Pot with a chorus of accents were singing with muscle and grit and determination.

I'm slow, but when I get it, wow.

I miss you people.

Lee

Day 4

This has been my first day of despair. It's about me. I apologize for that. I have been so very, very lucky in this tragic time. Along with my buddy Dan, we have been within strolling distance of the horrible disaster, and the focus, our focus, has been on others and on getting home. Today, however, I woke up thinking about me.

It must have been the next canceled flight. I had a lemo scheduled to take me to the airport at 3:00 a.m. in order to catch a flight at 6:00 a.m. Cabs are refusing to go the airports. They can't get out once there. Late last night I checked the web and found out my flight was canceled. So, I went to bed. Still I was up by 6:00 a.m. to again begin trying to get home to Jenny, Cortney, and friends.

I have scheduled and rescheduled flights. I have tried boats and planes and cars. Nothing is working. Right now I've got "shots" at 3 flights tomorrow. I'm making them all through Cincinnati, so if I get that far and flights are canceled, I can rent a car or walk. It's only 100 miles. I've done that this week in NY trying to find a car or a train.

I finally got a call from the company for which I work. The first proactive call either Dan or I have received from them this week. Finally. The one suggestion from them was to take a 23 hour train ride to Chicago so I could be there to work next week. I'll just let that stand alone.

I will say that the suggestion turned out to be fruitless. There are no seats on the train either.

So, reality is back again. Like you, I took a jolt of reality again by turning on the TV and seeing real despair and real heroism. Firemen. Cops. Nurses. Doctors. People giving blood. Priest. Or, just people who are showing up for work. Waitpersons. Cooks. Doormen. Cabbies. I called a local number and explained my background (well, not all of it) and offered my "pastoral ear." I've not heard back.

By the way, in an earlier email I mentioned a photograph with a couple of paragraphs about "color returning to our cheeks." Someone sent me the photo, and I'm sending it on to you as an attachment. Note the proud Red, White, and Blue amidst the stark white ash background. Like the flag raised at Iwo Jima, it is a symbol of the American Spirit. I expect it to be a part of any memorial that is built here in NYC.

Cross fingers again. Pray. I have flights reserved at 1:30, 3:40, and 5:35. All are flights into Cincinnati, so if I get that far, I can at least rent a car to get home.

Tonight Dan and I went to a movie. "The Deep End." The basic theme of the movie is "things are not what they seem." How true. How true.

Hoping I'm on home turf tomorrow.

Lee

Dear Friends,

Perhaps, just perhaps this is my last Email from New York for this visit. I am at LaGuardia and I'm holding a ticket for a 1:30 flight. Because of my "air warrior" status with Delta, I've been bumped up to First Class. That's good news. FC to Cincinnati and then on to Louisville.

It's rather eerie again at the airport. The traffic coming out from the island to the AP was virtually nonexistent. Then at the AP, hardly any people milling about. Inside, there was a long line snaking it's way to the Delta Counter. I'm lucky to be Platinum Medallion, so I got to get in a short line. Two people at the counter and one in front of me in line. Each transaction took about 7 minutes. When you think about the long line for "regular" passengers, you can imagine what their day is going to be like and what the day is going to be like for the ticket agents.

Standing in line I looked over and saw a young man with an Arab headdress. I saw the same ones when I traveled to the Middle East (Jordan). I wanted to go over and shake his hand and wish him a pleasant flight, but by the time I finished with my 7 minutes at the counter he was gone. I trust he has a pleasant journey.

A few surprises so far. Had I packed differently, I would have been allowed to carry on my bag. I decided to pack for checking it. That is just fine. To get through security was a bit more of a hassle, but it wasn't bad. At one portable stand, I had to show my ticket and a picture ID. Next I had to send my bag through the normal X-ray machine as I walked through the metal detector. Once through that "frame," I was scanned by a "wand." Finally, I had purchased a disposable camera and it was taken to another lady who did something to it. I trust she didn't x-ray it. Then I was on my way. Just a few minor inconveniences.

I'm now in the Delta Crown Room. I've got about 3 hours before my flight and everything is calm.

I am ready for home. I want to touch my daughters' faces and I want them to touch mine. I had a wonderful conversation with Cortney this morning before leaving the hotel. This episode has affected her quite a bit, and I know it will make us even stronger. I'm so grateful that my daughters and I have remained close over the years. We have no major rifts to repair. Had I been closer to the towers and had I been one of the unfortunate ones, my daughters would never have had to wonder if they loved me enough or if they were loved by me. They were, they are, and they know it. They would not have had to wonder if they had told me often enough that they love me; we end each conversation with "I love you." They would not have had to speculate if they could have done more; they could not have. And, it is evident to you and I know to them that I'm proud of them. How lucky I am. How lucky they are.

And you! Ah, you! Those of you who are my extended family; I have known that from you as well. To have been able to reach out and touch you this week and then to be touched in return has been a gift beyond measure. Thank you.

I home the next email I send you will say simply:

Home.