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My family

Embrace Today By: K. Wilhelmina Floria

Tears of happiness shall fall,
listen close for your destination call.

A river of tranquility flows through life.

Ride out the eye of the storm, pass the strife.

Saturday, September 11, 2010

My 9/11 memories

I'm home, I slept last night from about 10pm until almost 2am before I had to go to the bathroom. That was good considering that I wake up  to go every 2 hours.  I probably would have slept through had my mate didn't lift my legs to put my pillow under my feet.  I like when she does that, I feels like she's taking care of me. I woke up again at 4:45am and as usual my mind starts being busy.  Thinking about the kids and how yesterday was the last Thursday/Friday babysitting. Thinking about my greeting cards, my novel,  doing research of my family history, calling everyone to get some information for the newsletter, and about what I'm going to write about in this blog today. Thinking about my oldest daughter and how self centered she is. Not the baby as everyone would think but my oldest.  She has no time for anyone, she is on a mission and fuck anyone who gets in her way.  The family newsletter I gave her about 3 weeks ago is still unopened. The kids were yelled at for the living room being messy and for a letter she was looking for.  She is so unorganized, yet she blames everyone for her mess.  I can't say anything to her anymore, cause she things I'm criticizing when I'm only suggesting.  My youngest daughter brought her son over and she didn't come to pick him up and my oldest daughter is pissed that she didn't call to inform her that she was going to leave him.  I love my children and want them to be happy but they stress me and I need to back away.  My son he's another issue, he's mentally a spoiled child.  He's always crying, I need, want and what am I going to do, and he expects mommy to take care of him.  My heart and compassion is mushy and I want to help and take care of all my babies, but I have to learn to step away and let them go. Tears are filling my eyes and I don't want to cry, I'm so sick of crying, I wouldn't mind if when I cried I would pee less.

It's 9/11 nine years after that fateful day.  That year 2001 was a crazy year for me.  My biological son was in jail.  I rented out two rooms in the attic.  My step son was living with his girlfriend in one of the rooms she was to pay $75 a week and the other room was rented to an old friend for $150 a week.  He was a bit odd, never showered, washed his hair but not his ass.  He didn't use the bathroom, we later discovered he was peeing jars and shitting in plastic bags.  He brought roaches in the house.  He had millions in that room and of course they wandered around the house and invaded. A friend of my 23 year old man was sleeping in the living room.  He was a slob, he chained smoked and left his cigarette butts everywhere in his empty cigarette packs.  He was almost 400 pounds and even though he gave us the couch he slept on it was of no use after he was sleeping on it night after night. My step son was selling drugs on the streets, I told him not to do business in the house and he assured me he wasn't. One of my youngest daughters friend was always over. His mother didn't want him and he was basically on his own, so we were looking out for him.  He was about to get locked up when all of a sudden his charges were dropped. Lets call him S to make telling my story easier.

I feed all these people and rent was paid a few weeks but when it stopped it stopped.  It was a party house.  I was drinking and sniffing my coke.  The guy in the living room was smoking dust and got my man to smoke and he bugged out on it.  Everyone else was smoking those blunts.

My girl friend and I were going to hang out that night, after work it was Friday night. We went to my house in her car.  When we got to my house the police were all over it.  They raided the house.  I went in and was arrested.  Everyone was hand cuffed, the men on the floor, my daughter and my step sons' girlfriend was sitting at the table. The men were on the floor belly down handcuffed in the back.  They brook the door and frame.  They tore up the house and commented that it didn't look like a drug dealers house.  All I had of real value was the 46 inch TV, everything else was from when I moved in or was there from my family. Th police knew everything about us. It wasn't hard to figure that S was their informant, he had attempted murder charges that were dropped.

They took us to central bookings and we spent a night in jail.  I didn't go to the bathroom that night, I didn't eat or drink anything either. When you're locked up in central bookings in Queens, NY.  You don't know what time it is, you don't know if it's day or night.  There's no TV and nothing but benches, cots and a bench. as people go out for hearings you could move around to the spaces they left.

I was on-call with my job I called someone to take the on-call for me.  Fortunately I called someone who understood what was going on because she experienced it.  It's amazing how cool I was considering how nervous and anxious I am now.  My step son took all responsibility and we were all released late Satuarday night.  We met out side, I got some money out the bank, and we meet  at home. What was left of it.  They went through every square inch, tore up everything.  In my tenants room they found guns, he inherited from his father only he didn't renew his licence so he had to go back and forth to court on that.

It worked out.  A few months later, when things were back to normal I was on vacation from my job.  I was going to tour NYC, go to the Empire State Building one day, Gracie Manor, central park and so on.  But I was tired, what a surprise and didn't do anything but sleep, clean and hung out drinking and sniffing. My neighbor would calling me through the window every morning. I was suppose to go back to work on Monday but decided to take an extra day.  I figured I'll go to the World Trade Center, go to the top since I never been up stairs.  I've gone to Alexanders' when it was there, sat in the mall and passed through to go to the Path Train when I live in Jersey City.  But never upstairs and I didn want to go. I was tired and said to hell with it I'll go one weekend later.

On that Tuesday morning my neighbor was yelling up to me as usual. I tried to ignore her because it was my last day of vacation and I wanted to rest.  But something in her voice was alarming so I went to the window and she asked, "did you hear what happen?"  I told her I didn't and she told me to look over to the west and I saw smoke, she said a plane crashed into the Twin Towers.  I trembled.  I turned on the news, listened while I dressed and sat in the living room to watch the 46 inch just in time to see the second plane crash.  It was a surreal feeling.  Had I went back to work that morning I would have gone to my Brooklyn branch I would of saw it all from the office window.  Had I been in Queens I would of seen it from the street.  Had I went to the Bronx I would have seen it over the Whitestone Bridge. No matter where I went I would have been stuck.  I was worried about my friend who I grew up with, she and her fiance worked around the 57th floor I think.  She was fine when I spoke to her the next day, she stopped to return a blouse before going in, her fiance on the other hand was going to work earlier in the mornings and he was at his desk, we assume when the plane hit, he was never found.

The next day there was not train service.  My grandson was in the hospital, he was 2 weeks old and had jaundice.  The hospital was eerie, the staff was ready for casualties. but it was quiet, no body came.  When were able to go back to work I went to the Queens branch so I would be close to home. When I went back the Brooklyn branch everyone on the trains were friendly, it was like we were family.  We all seemed to notice a lot of people missing.  I took the "J" train which went under the World Trade center and most of the people who rode with us in the morning got off at Fulton Street.  For weeks there were delays because of bomb threats, the police were visible in the tunnels on the trains and I was happy to see them considering how much I hated the police after the raid on my house. For days after the towers fell we could smell the smoke in the air.

Today I can remember the events like it was yesterday.  I remember the tributes they gave, especially when Bret Midler sang,  'You are my hero,' she sang it with so much feelings, I cried like a baby, I always thought she was a great entertainer but at that point she became my all time favorite.

I guess God had plans for me, He spared my life at that time so I can be here 9 years later. So even though I complain about my life I believe I have a purpose and I hope to figure it out.

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