Twenty four years ago today something horrible happened in America. I was 38 years old and had that Tuesday off. My six year old daughter was at school and my three year old son was playing in the family room. I always left the T.V. on with something blathering in the background when I was home. That sunny morning, I stepped out back of my Genoa Twp. home to visit my Uncle Nick – I smoked like a fiend back then – and was thinking of how happy I was not to be putting out fires and dealing with asshats at work. When I went back into the house, I went into the family room to see what my son was up to. As I tripped over a toy truck on the floor, the T.V. grabbed my attention. “What the *uck…..” I could not believe what I was seeing. I started to panic. My father worked in midtown Manhattan and often conducted business downtown. My youngest sister had just started her freshman year at American University in D.C. What to do. What to do. Quick, do I load my little man in the car and put the pedal to metal to get back to the Jersey homestead? I went out back again to commune with Uncle Nick, composed myself, and then called my sister who lived in North Jersey. She told me that she was attempting to reach our father in his midtown Manhattan office, but the line was busy. That evening, my sister reached our father by phone in his office. He was OK. My father is gone now. He NEVER spoke of what he witnessed in Manhattan on that day. My mother told me that when he got home the following day he went into the bedroom, locked the bedroom door, and wailed inconsolably. My father retired on 12/15/2001 – his sixty first birthday.
Days after the 9/11 attack, I learned that Rich Guadagno, who was a year ahead of me in high school, had been on Flight 93. I have a very fond memory of Rich that always plays in my mind on 9/11. I was quite the studious, unfashionable, nerd in high school and was never given the time of day by anyone in the “in” crowd. I was a stellar student aiming for an Ivy League undergraduate degree and then off to medical school. Junior year, I was one of two females in the physics class. One day after 7th period English class, I was warned coming out of the class not to go look at the physic test scores that had just been posted. Well, of course I went and looked and man did I bomb. I started to cry and Rich, who was there with a friend checking the list, grabbed my hand, gave me hug, and reassured me that everything would be OK because our lowest test score got dropped at the end of the marking period. Rich didn’t know me, but he extended his hand in an act of kindness that I remember to this day. I know in my heart that Rich was a brave heart on Flight 93 and that Jesus himself walked Rich through heaven’s gate.
Remembering Richard Guadagno, Passenger 19A on Flight 93
Her Brother Died On Flight 93. She Still Sees Him Surfacing In Small Ways
The dirty deeds of the Devil and his wicked Legion:
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