Last updated on October 26th, 2025 at 12:55 pm
This morning I was laying in my bed and my eyes were wide opened. The clock said 3:34 (yes, that’s AM) and I couldn’t close my eyes and rest. I kept thinking that at this time, on this day, in 2001 everyone was resting sound asleep not knowing the events that would unfold that day.
As most of you know, I’m a native New Yorker. I’m born and raised right here in Little Italy and have never lived out of this area other then for a college internship in Disney. My family arrived here from Italy in 1916, came to this neck of the woods, and never left. If you’ve watched the movie Gangs of New York, you’ll know exactly what my ancestors life was like. I live in what was then the five points area. Now it’s simply called Little Italy and the Italian population is shrinking every year.
The reason I gave you a little “Natalie Diaz history lesson” is because I want you to know that my roots here are deep. Very deep. The life I live here in NYC is not the life you see on New York Housewives on Bravo. I live a very normal life surrounded by family (all in the same building) in my small town that just happens to be the Big Apple.
To say that this day is somber for me is an understatement. Poor Jill this morning got an earful as I vented about this day. Sorry Jill. I just had to get it off my chest.
I’m sad, I’ve very sad. I’m not sure if it’s Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or what, but I CAN NOT get over today. This day is still SO FRESH in my mind and heart I start panicing weeks before it gets here. I don’t stop myself from doing anything, but I do take double looks at the folks sitting next to me on the subway, bus, coffee shop and any place else. Paranoid? Yup. I think you would be too if you were here that day in 2001.
I can remember the day like it was yesterday. It was a beautiful, sunny, cool morning. I hitched a ride with my parents to work. My sister decided to tag along too and we all made our daily pilgrimage to work. My dad had just retired so he was playing taxi driver for all his favorite New York ladies. We laughed. We laughed so hard that morning. My sister was making fun of my mom in the way that only a daughter could get away with and I was nearly peeing my pants.
We dropped my mom off first at her job at the Salvation Army, and then it was my turn. At the time, I was working for Park East Tours (now called International Expeditions). Park East was a luxury African tour operator in the Columbus Circle area of the city. It was a GREAT job. It allowed me to see the world and develop a respect and appreciation for all we have here in the United States.
That morning I went in early. I got there about 8am since I was going to start training a new employee. One of the reasons we hired this dude over the others, was because of his significant military service history. He was a Marine Reservist. Since my Grandfather Fred was a Marine, I have a soft spot in my heart for them, so I pushed for my boss to hired him. We hired Lenny, my second favorite Marine, on the spot and his start date was 9/11.
I was in the office by 8:15am, we didn’t even have all the lights on since it was so early and the sun was shining into each and every window. My boss, Eric Gordon, was there as he always was at that time of day. We had a cup of coffee, joked a bit and then I was off to my training session with our Marine.
At 8:46 Eric came out of his office and said “A plane hit the Trade Center”. Since he had only heard this on the radio and not actually seen what happened he figured it was an accident (as most NY’ers did). For us, yes this was bad, but selfishly, I think we were thinking…”Well no one will want to get on a plane and go to Africa now!” Selfish, yes. But we didn’t know what was happening remember.
My boss started pulling up the passenger lists to see what folks we had due to leave the Country that day and my mission changed from training to damage control.
At 9:03 Eric came out of his office again and said “Another plane hit the Towers.” I have chills writing this now. I feel the emotional fear I did that very moment. We both knew that this was no accident.
I ran downstairs to the deli where I knew they had a TV. CNN was on and the city was paralyzed. No one could speak. No one could move. No one had the words to express what was happening. The women just sobbed. The men stayed strong with their eyes glued to the TV.
At 9:37am we learned a plane flew into the Pentagon and that was when I made my decision. I had to get home.
Something horrible was happening to our Country, and all of a sudden, no one felt safe.
I ran back upstairs and said “I’m going home.” I couldn’t reach my husband on the phone. I couldn’t reach my Uncle Frankie or God Sister Genevieve who lived a few hundred feet away from the World Trade Center where the towers then stood. I was trying NOT to panic. At this time, the towers were still standing. They were just burning.
I did a mental intake of who I knew that worked there. I knew a few folks. Considering that the building employed THOUSANDS of people, you had to know more then a few.
I grabbed my bag, apologized to my boss and Lenny, our Marine. BTW, Eric and I both knew that it was pointless to train Lenny since he was a reservist, we KNEW that they would be calling him back to active duty ASAP, which they did.
I left work with good walking shoes and started my decent into Lower Manhattan.
My walk was only 3 1/2 miles, but it seemed like it took forever. I PURPOSELY avoided walking down the avenues where I knew I would see the Towers. I had my headphones on and I was PURPOSELY drowning out the sounds of fire trucks, ambulances, and police cars. It seemed the entire city’s emergency department was heading down towards the accident while most pedestrians were heading uptown. It seemed odd that I was going in the belly of the beast.
I made quick work of my walk and eventually got to East Village. I saw the towers. There was a HUGE billow of smoke. I didn’t know one of the towers had fallen yet.
I saw a man by the window of a magazine stand. He was COVERED in ash from head to toe. He was hunched over near the window. I went up to him, put my hand on his back and said “Sir, are you ok? Can I get you some water?” and he looked me right in the eyes. They were bright in comparison to the ash, soot and debris all over his well tailored suit and he said “I’m fine, I’m just looking to see who was on the cover of that magazine.” He was in shock. He was not the only one. Thousands of people were heading north all in the same condition that he was, while I still had to journey south.
I finally made it home. I learned that BOTH Towers had fallen. I was devastated. By the time I got there, my Uncle and God Sister had both found their way, with their entire families to our home in Little Italy. We just looked at each other and cried. We held each other and cried. We didn’t know what else to do. We just cried. We were helpless. We thought this was the end. We didn’t know what was going to happen next. We just stayed together in one small apartment and waited. My God Sister wasn’t even dressed. She was in boxer shorts and a tank top. She heard the crash, grabbed the baby and ran to our home. No clothing, no formula for the baby, no money, nothing. Just herself, her daughter, her elderly mother, her sister in law and her nephew. She lived on the 34th floor of a high rise building and they got out just in time before the smoke clouds hit.
In Little Italy, the police had forbidden us from leaving our apartments since the EPA had found that there was too much dust and asbestos in the air for safe breathing conditions. Later we couldn’t leave because of the large amounts of bone fragments in the air. If we had to leave, we could do so with a wet washcloth over our face, but no other way. No running out for milk. No walking the dog. No breath of fresh air. There were borders up all around us. You couldn’t get in my neighborhood or out without showing proper identification. It was a warzone. New York City was a warzone.
Being the family that we are, after our brief period of mourning for our city, we flipped the emotional switch and we were angry. We weren’t just angry we were PISSED! Our City, Our Country had just been violated and we were ANGRY!
Quickly we all went into action volunteering with the Salvation Army where my mom worked. We held shifts around the clock. We all did. Our husbands, Uncles, Aunts, Friends, Neighbors, everyone we knew was put to work. It was time to find any survivors that were remaining in the smoldering rubble.
At this time we started getting word of who was, and who wasn’t, in the towers that day. We learned my moms friend was missing BOTH her sons. We learned my friend was missing her husband. We learned my husband was missing his cousin….and we got even angrier and worked even harder.
We volunteered for weeks. I took a bunch of time off of work. My boss didn’t really understand but (sorry Eric) it is what I had to do for my fellow New Yorkers.
Time passed, fewer and fewer survivors were found. All of our friends and family that were missing, were never found. They are buried the grave that is the World Trade Center.
I still have not had the courage to visit the memorial site. I’ve seen it on TV, I’ve seen it from friends windows, I’ve driven past it, but I can not actually bring myself to step foot onto that hollowed ground. Perhaps another year or two will pass, perhaps even twenty without an official visit.
My friends, family, fellow New Yorker’s who lost their lives that day will live EVERY DAY in my heart.
Thank you for listening (or reading) my story, and thank you for supporting my city when we needed it most. All your prayers for our family, friends and fellow New Yorker’s were received and we are trying out best to move on. Days like this make us take a small step back, but rest assured tomorrow, we will take two giant leaps forward.
Good Luck and God bless you,
Natalie
Founder of Twiniversity and Mom to Anna and Johnny
