On the morning of September 11th, 2001 I tried to sleep in. The night before I was at work selling refrigerators and washing machines at Sears. I don’t remember if I had the 11th off, or if I was scheduled to go into work that afternoon.

I lived with an older couple, getting free room and board in exchange for helping them with errands and the house. I stayed in a small bedroom with enough room for my bed, a bookshelf, and an old desk that held my computer and a small TV. Most of the time they left me alone when I was in my room, only calling me if they needed something or when dinner was ready.

Occasionally the husband would call out if he thought there was something on TV I would be interested in. If the mood struck me I would come out and watch. The tacit agreement was I could come out, or not, as I pleased. If I didn’t, nothing more was said. Not that morning.

I remember his words after he knocked on my door, “Jim, you need to see this.” I was awake, but still laying in bed, not quite ready to start my day. I was going to ignore the suggestion. Several minutes later he did something very unusual, he knocked on my door again, “You really need to come see this.”

Reluctantly I got up and walked the short distance to the living room. He was sitting in his recliner, not laying back like usual, but leaning forward watching what, at first glance, I thought was a movie. “There’s been an accident”, he told me. “An airplane’s crashed into one of the Trade Center towers.” In those early minutes, an accident was the only thing that made sense. The thought running through my mind was how could an incident like this occur. Was it a mechanical problem? Faulty electronics? Then, as we watched, there was another dot of an airplane in the picture. It grew larger, and within seconds it crashed into the second tower. For a brief moment my brain still tried to assign some tragic, but conceivable, engineering cause to the crashes. Mere moments later it was if a switch was thrown in my mind – I knew this was intentional.

Like a majority of people I was glued to the television, unsure of the extent of the devastation. News stories were incomplete and occasionally contradictory. At first there was the small hope that the destruction would be limited. People were evacuating the buildings, and rescuers were doing the job they always do with selfless abandon.

But the grief inducing news wouldn’t stop. The towers fell, one and then the other. Rumors, and then confirmation, of planes hitting the Pentagon and a field in Pennsylvania. “What next?” was all I could think.

I remember two feelings as the rest of that day unfolded. One was a mixture a fear and unbelief, the other was a feeling of helplessness. The rest of that day, and those that followed, the fear diminished, although the unbelief remained. In a way it was almost like I describe my color-blindness. I am hue blind. I can see colors, but my brain won’t always tell me what colors they are. The days following 9/11 were much the same, I knew what happened but my brain just couldn’t process the reality.

The feeling of helplessness was stronger and lasted longer. The immediate desire was to “do something”, the question was, “what?” I couldn’t help at the crash sites, and I was too old, even then, to join the military. I had no money to donate, and was at a loss about what I could possibly do. I did make a simple little graphic with an American flag, the Twin Towers, and the words “Always Remember”. I printed out a hundred or more and gave them out to friends and strangers. They even let me tape one to the register at work. Still, I doubt that I’m alone saying I felt totally helpless, unable to identify or do whatever it was that needed to be done.

It would still be a few years before I learned what a blog was and decided to start my own. In 2006 the 2996 project honored the lives of those we lost that day. I changed the date of the original post I wrote about Neil Dollard. It can be found here. In 2009 I also wrote a tribute to Norbert P. Szurkowski. In it I said,

The two men were from vastly different backgrounds, with vastly different lives. It’s possible that they had the type of nodding relationship that we have with people we don’t know, but who work near us. Whatever the reality, they both were killed that horrible day. To them, and all the others, we pledge to remember.

We are often admonished to “Never Forget” what happened on that day. I’d like to suggest we take a step further – Always Remember.

As we move past this 10th anniversary there is a danger that we could fail to remember the events and the people of that day. We cannot let that happen. My prayers are with the family and friends who lost their loved ones.

I started that day trying to ignore what was going on. Since then I hope to keep my pledge to always remember.

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I look at this picture, and my first thought is that he looks like one of my uncles. He could easily pass for one of my mom’s brothers. His name is Norbert P. Szurkowski, and he was 31 on September 11th, 2001. Eight years ago he was working in the offices of Cantor Fitzgerald hanging wall paper.

A tribute that appeared in the New York Times on December 30, 2001 said,

Norbert Szurkowski, the son of a bicycle racer, was on his first visit to New York when he met Ursula Lesniak. It was 1992 and she was a student at Fort Hamilton High School in Brooklyn. “We just enjoyed seeing each other,” she said. Three years to the day after they met, Mr. Szurkowski — always attentive to such details as proper timing — proposed.

The City Hall wedding two weeks later was a prelude to the festivities in their native country, Poland: three days of visiting and feasting with relatives.

Back home in Bensonhurst, Mr. Szurkowski walked right up and faced his future without the slightest doubt that he would do well. This past year was bearing out his confidence. His wife was graduating from nursing school and pregnant with their second child, and he was about to be promoted to full-fledged mechanic. “This was the year,” Mrs. Szurkowski said, “that we were supposed to get everything back.”

Meanwhile, Mr. Szurkowski, 31, was earning extra money by wallpapering the Cantor Fitzgerald offices. The best part about it was the hours — by shortly after 9 a.m., he was usually out and on his way home. (Source)

Another story, originally on Newsday, but now only found on a Digg archive, said,

The young newlyweds settled in Szurkowski’s house in Bensonhurst, where they began working toward his dream. “Basically, what he wanted was to have a family, to live a normal life,” his wife said. “He just wanted to buy a house, move to New Jersey, go on family vacations, make sure our kids grow up as they’re supposed to.”

By last year, it all seemed to be running on track. Szurkowski, 31, finished his apprenticeship at a wallpapering company; his wife graduated from nursing school. They were enjoying their 3-year-old, Alexandra, and Ursula was pregnant again.

Szurkowski loved his job and spent his free time playing tennis or riding his bike. Alexandra was becoming bilingual, speaking Polish at home and English outside. On camping trips upstate with other Polish families, the men would fish and the women cooked what they caught over an open fire.

“He was happy with what he had,” his wife said. “He just wanted to keep everything the way it was, and make sure it didn’t get any worse.”

But everything got worse on Sept.11. Szurkowski was touching up a wallpapering job at Cantor Fitzgerald, on the 104th floor of Tower One, when the plane hit.

Ursula is scheduled to deliver her baby, already named Claudia, by Caesarean section in May.

Alexandra should be 11 now. Claudia, who has never met her father, seven.

We remember these people, Norbert and the thousands of others, who lost their lives eight years ago today.

As I’ve said before, in the days and weeks following 9/11 most of us vowed, if only to ourselves, to always remember that day. The 2,996 Project is dedicated to that task. We hope that you will take time today to read the tributes and information that bloggers, writers, and others from all over, who are each taking the time to remember those who died as individuals. Individuals who deserve our remembrance.

In 2006 I wrote a tribute to another person who died in the same building, Neil Dollard. The two men were from vastly different backgrounds, with vastly different lives. It’s possible that they had the type of nodding relationship that we have with people we don’t know, but who work near us. Whatever the reality, they both were killed that horrible day. To them, and all the others, we pledge to remember.

Note 9/11/2011: The comments have been reopened.

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NOTE: I am reposting this tribute from 9/11/2006 and re-opening the comments. You can also read this years remembrance of Norbert P. Szurkowski. Other tributes can be found at the 2,996 Project.

Today, on the 5th anniversary of the tragedy of September 11th, 2001, 2,996 bloggers are remembering the victims who died that day. Instead of focusing on the perpetrators we are remembering the individuals who lost their lives that day. The list of those being remembered with links to the blogs writing about them can be found here. Please take time to read as many of these tributes as you can.

This post will remain on top all day with any new posts below.

Neil Dollard

Writing this post has been very difficult. Oh, the information is there, but there is the sense that you can hardly do justice honoring someone you never met. Still, learning from the words that others have written, I do hope that I can give you some idea about who Neil Dollard was.

Reading through dozens of memorial sites, news sources and other online tributes written in the past five years several items stand out.

First the facts. Neil Dollard was 28 years old on September 11th, 2001. He was a bond broker for Cantor Fitzgerald, working in WTC 1, and lived in Hoboken, NJ. But those are just facts.

One thing that struck me immediately was the importance that family and friends had in Neil Dollard’s life. His frequent phone calls to those he cared about is something mentioned in nearly every tribute. Calls to his parents, his other family, his girlfriend Kristen, his co-workers, and his friends were every day occurrences. Often for no reason other than to just say hello.

It is also said that he loved to give gifts and seldom went anywhere empty handed.

He loved good food, loved to cook, loved to eat at great restaurants. And he spent time in the gym.

He took pride in the nice suits that are the uniform of an up and coming bond broker, but his trademark was his baseball cap.

He loved Kristin and Kristin loved him. Here is what she had to say two years following his death:

I lost Neil on that horrible day, he was my boyfriend. We lived together and planned to one day get married. He was my best friend and no one can ever replace him. He was genuine and generous. His heart was bigger than life itself. I miss him SO MUCH! Everyday I sit and think what our children would have looked like and what their names would have been and would I ever learn to cook as good as he did. I have to go on with my life but it’s difficult, when the one thing that you lived for is gone. I’m very angry that he was taken away from me for no reason, I never said goodbye!! They say that when you die, your soul and energy are still around, I hope that he can feel how strong my love for him is. I know he is around when I get upset, because as soon as I think about him I stop crying, as if he is rubbing my back and telling me to calm down. I love you Neil!!!!!! I’ll never forget you and the great life that we had together. Kristin

One of the most complete looks at Mr. Dollard’s life is this one:

Staten Island Advance (9/25/2001)
Jill Gardiner Advance staff writer

Neil Dollard was preparing to make a sautéed spinach dish and a homemade tomato sauce the night before the World Trade Center attack.

“He called my aunt and told her to save the tomatoes,” said Megan Fajardo, Neil’s sister. “He was planning on picking them up on Saturday.”

[...]

A bond broker for Cantor Fitzgerald, the firm that occupied some of the highest floors in the building and lost hundreds of its employees, Mr. Dollard was working on the 104th floor of Tower 1 when the first plane hit.

His girl friend, Kristin Ledzion, spoke to him briefly when she called to wake him up before work that morning and he had talked to his family, most of whom were vacationing in Italy, the night before.

He and Ms. Ledzion were scheduled to join them at their home on the Italian Riviera the following week.

“He called on Monday night,” said Mrs. Fajardo. “He was in a good mood. Everyone spoke to him. We were talking about the trip and about how excited he was to come.”

At 28, Mr. Dollard was full of life.

He had a passion for dining in fine Manhattan restaurants and entertaining friends at his home. He was a gourmet cook who liked to try new recipes, and was beginning an impressive wine collection.

To balance his love for food, the 6-foot-1-inch Mr. Dollard spent much of his leisure time exercising at a gym near his home. His build was broad and he always looked healthy.

[...]

Though he hadn’t told anyone, he seemed to be preparing to surprise his girl friend with a kitten. His family found cat food and a book on raising cats in his home.

“He was a very loving son who was very involved in the lives of his family,” said his mother. “He was a fun-loving young man who also had a serious side.” Mr. Dollard survived the 1993 Trade Center bombing, when he walked down all 104 flights, helping a woman who was wearing a cast on her leg.

[...]

Though his family didn’t speak to him after he arrived at work that fateful Tuesday morning, one of his co-workers called home and said he was in the stairwell evacuating the building with Mr. Dollard. There was no other information on his whereabouts.

[...]

In addition to his sister, Megan, and his mother, Helen, Mr. Dollard is survived by his father, Robert; a brother, Peter; two more sisters, Susan Dollard and Anne Zucchi; a half-brother, Michael Dollard, and two half-sisters, Diana and Mary Dollard.

Neil Dollard was taken from his family, friends and co-workers much to soon. He is missed and deserves to be remembered by us all.

2996 Project Posts from my blogroll:
Sister Toldjah — Peter Edward Mardikian
Blue Star Chronicles — Lt. Michael Warchola
Captain’s Quarters — Ysidro Hidalgo-Tejada
Babalu Blog — George C. Merino
Pirate’s Cove — Brooke Alexandra Jackman
Blue Crab Boulevard — Cynthia Giugliano
Right Truth — Lee Adler
The Strata-Sphere — Paul Laszczynski
Michelle Malkin — Giovanna Porras

Note 9/11/2011 – The comments have been reopened.

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