c h a z r o o t > a b o u t

charles h. root, iii
about > 9.11.2001

the morning

i woke up tuesday morning, vowing that it would be just another normal day of my newly established life and routine in manhattan.

in the six month period of december 2000 through may 2001, i endured retinal detachment surgery, a cancer scare, the stress of a rapidly deteriorating workplace, two relocations, a new position in nyc and the end of my marriage.

9.11.2001 would've been my eighth wedding anniversary.

pre-occupied with this backdrop, i was determined to operate in a "plan for the worst but work toward the best" mode. i walked out of my apartment building on east 29th, grabbed a cab on the corner of madison and headed to the office. traffic was terrible... gridlock. we made it about ten blocks up madison. i asked the driver to pull over so i could walk the last nine blocks to my mid-town office. i got out of the cab around 8:40 AM.

manhattan is loud. especially at rush hour... the horns, trucks, construction, helicopters and subways... you get used to it very quickly. as i got out of the cab, i thought i heard a louder than normal noise from above, like an airplane. i looked up, saw nothing, thought nothing of it and made my way to work.

only after pushing my way through the crowd of co-workers huddling around televisions in the office lobby watching cnn's live coverage did the sound make horrific sense.

no amount of planning could've prepared anyone for the shock of what happened.

as miserable as i thought my life was, my problems were suddenly inconsequential to the new reality.

i was alive. i didn't loose anyone.

i was lucky.

the 9.11 letters

transportation and telephone communications in and out of the city were non-existent. email and online chat were the only vehicles to get the word out. i decided that sending an email was my best shot at updating the most people about my status.

what i didn't realize was that these letters would take on a life of their own. i sent them to everyone in my address book. many of these people forwarded them to others, who then in turn sent them to their contacts and so on, like a pyramid scheme.

very soon i started receiving emails from strangers... friend of a friend of a friend kinda thing. people printed these letters, saved them, shared them and put them in scrap books. a museum director used them in an installation about the 9.11 tragedy. teachers in schools around the country read them to students in their classes.

i was flooded with messages from well wishers. for all of your thoughts and prayers i will always be profoundly grateful.

thank you.

i've posted the letters here as i still get asked about them. i'm amazed (and perhaps in denial) by the whole thing. i don't get it... i'm not a hero or have a survivors tale to tell. maybe they struck a nerve in some way by documenting the moment from the perspective of an average joe from buffalo who's real happy he didn't take the downtown apartment on john street.

9.11 letter
9.14 letter