Mountain View News Saturday, September 5, 2026 
22 LEST' WE FORGET 
Mountain View News Saturday, September 5, 2026 
22 LEST' WE FORGET 
GOING TO THE TOP OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTER 

It was September 3, 2001, and I was aboard Jet Blue enroute 
to New York, the first leg in my adventure to sail across 
the sea, thus moving to England to attend University andstretching beyond my comfort zone. 

This meant giving up my career, leaving behind a supportivehusband and caring family as well as my secure Sierra Madrehome. I wasn’t too scared about the move, after all, everyone 
spoke English there and my hubby’s family would beavailable for me to visit in both England and Wales. 

However, studying in a graduate program when I hadn’t beena full-time student in more than twenty years, combined withtaking a home equity line of credit to finance this wild rideof mine was scary - unnerving in fact. Little did I know ourwhole world was about to change forever, and my concerns 
would soon be overshadowed by catastrophic events. 

After landing in New York, we checked in to our hotel: TheMarriott, address: Number 3 World Trade Center, then we 
headed next door for the amazing sky-ride to the top. It waslate so we squeaked by just as they were about to close. Theelevator ticket man was young, handsome and friendly -he 
left an impression. (We wondered later, of course – did hemake it? What if we’d been there the following week?) 

I thought we’d feel chilly on the observation deck, it’s VERYhigh up, but was happy that the temperature was like a 
balmy Indian summer. The sky was super clear, the starsabove twinkling as well as the lights of Manhattan below.
Lady Liberty could be seen in the dis-tance, under a brightmoon, her beckoning torch lit up, creating patterns over theshimmer-ing water. 

September 4, 2001, we hailed a yellow cab and headed forthe pier to set sail on the leg-endary Queen Elizabeth 2.
The reason both Jet Blue and QE2 were chosen as modes of 
transport had less to do with glamour, and more to do withluggage allowance. 

After all, I was moving abroad and had my summer andwinter clothes, bulky jackets and boots, and skinny and not 
so skinny clothes. You gals understand this. I wasn’t going to 
buy a new wardrobe there (in pound sterling!) on my limitedbudget, preferring to save funds for short trips and theatretickets. 

The airline and cruise line at the time had unlimited luggageallowance and I had SEVEN pieces! 

As the ship’s horn blew and we sailed slowly away from one 
of the world’s greatest cities, I stood on the deck and tookendless pictures (film, not digital) of the World Trade Center 

-clearly the star of the show. If you haven’t ever sailed in orout of New York, I cannot recom-mend it highly enough. Forme, there was no greater ‘goose bumps’ moment than sailingpast the Statue of Liberty, reminding me of our immigrantforefathers, their sacrifices, their patriotism. 
Arriving in Southampton, U.K. on September 10, my hubby’scousin was at the dock, gazing at the amount of luggage that 
we had to smash in his car for the drive to Wales, a four-
hour journey to the west. In the small village of Ammanford, 
we turned in our film at ‘Boots the Chemist’ (drugstore) to 
be developed and headed to the hillside cottage of my father-
in-law, who asked me to call him “Dah”. 

September 11th, 2001 – Let’s go into town and pick up ourpictures of New York and the ship! I said. Ronda agreed.
Off we went to shop in the village with its pedestrianizedcobbled streets, pubs, ‘fruit and veg’ stands, and meat pieshops. We were in an old-fashioned hardware store withuneven wooden floors and handmade candies in jarswhen two ladies in their lilting Welsh accents mentionedsomething about a plane crashing into a building in NewYork City. That’s weird, I thought. After picking up thedeveloped pictures, we headed back home. 

Poppet, there’s some news on the radio about plane crashesin New York, Dah said. Forget radio, let’s turn on the T.V., 
I replied. We, along with the rest of the planet, lookedin horror at live coverage of the hijackings and attacks. 
Throughout the rest of the day, it felt like we were trying toswim through Jello – everything was moving in slow motion. 
Our brains did not want to accept what was happening andour hearts hurt unimaginably. 

My very first thoughts were: I was just on top of the WorldTrade Center, I am away from my American people, and Iwant to help them. I do not want to be here. Forget the UK,
Universi-ty, my dreams. I want to go home. Now! 

Being in the travel business, I thought of the tangled,
difficult logistics of grounded flights and stranded people.
I felt helpless watching while people were trapped in thetwin towers: rescue workers, civilians and tourists. Sobbingin disbelief while watching the television, it reminded me of 
War of the Worlds on the historic radio show – this is fake, 
not true – it was all a bad dream, and we would wake upsoon. Ronda and I called our families in California, just tomake sure they were ok, even though they were miles fromthe east coast. 
Poppet, take this sleeping pill, I’m taking one too, Dah said. 

He was a World War II veteran, an officer in the Royal Navywho witnessed carnage - but watching people fling themselvesfrom a New York skyscraper live and in technicolor was notin his repertoire of things he wanted to see in his retiringyears and declining health. The images dredged up horriblememories of his war experiences, and he had nightmaresfrom them. 
Later that week, we took a train ride on the Heart of Wales 
line to Shrewsbury, England. We visited an ancient Abbey, 


lighting candles in a makeshift shrine erected to honor the 
fallen, the American and British flags side by side. Back in 
Ammanford, we shopped at a fabric store to fashion blackarm bands and when we told the shopkeeper what the fabricwas for, she insisted on not charging us. 

Over the next few weeks, it was surreal living in London,
attending university with young adults from many cultures.
Most were sympathetic towards me, and as one of the few 
Americans, I appreciated their kindness. One snarky lad,
who happened to be both Irish and Christian said to methat he thought the USA deserved this and had it comingto them. Another student was from Pakistan, a Muslim, sheheld me tight and said I am so very sorry that this horriblething has happened. In the privacy of my room, I grieved.
Living across the street from London’s largest Mosque wasdisconcerting, and later when the US invaded Af-ghanistan,
students demonstrated outside my window. 

Tourism took a nosedive and London’s West End theatres 
were half empty, as much of the audience came from abroad. 
Many shows had to close. I attended award winning productions 
in my free time for as little as £5.00 – about $8.00 
dollars, for a show that would cost at least $100.00. 

Throughout the year, I studied hard and worked on my thesis 
at the British Library. My mother Carole came to visit metwice, and I also enjoyed visits from my stepmother Mar-leneas well. Grateful to them, for their visits helped me throughmy feelings of isolation. In their suitcases, they brought mea little familiarity and comfort from home, authentic corntortillas, for example. (Contrary to some beliefs, food is verygood in England, but good Mexican food hadn’t made itover there yet.) When my husband came to visit me, I madesure to book him on Air New Zealand instead of American 
or United, I just couldn’t help feel-ing better that he was on a‘neutral’ plane while we were ‘at war’. The year passed by andsuddenly it was the first anniversary of 9/11/01. 

Do not go to the ceremony at the American Embassy,
Poppet, please, said Dah, pleading with me by phone onSeptember 11, 2002. 

It will be the safest place in London, I must go, I replied. Icontinued: I haven’t had the chance to be with MY fellow 
Americans for a year now. I want to honor the fallen. Securitywill be tight, you’ll see. Boy was it ever. 

Back then, the American

Embassy in London occupiedsome of the most expensivereal estate in Mayfair, calledGrosvenor Square. Large 
areas were cordoned off 
with police barri-cades. 
Many dignitaries attendedincluding the American 
Consul General, membersof Par-liament as well as 
the press. A giant tent withphotographs from groundzero was impres-sive andincluded a guest book, which 

I signed. The presentations were heart wrenching, especiallywhen New York firefighters gave to British firefighters their 
country’s flag: a charred Union Jack salvaged from thewreckage of one of the two towers. One area of Grosvenorsquare was dedicated to the sixty-seven British citizens whodied that day, their names engraved on bronze plaques. Ithought I could hold it together and not weep - I was wrong,
but not alone. A Welsh choir, all male and one hundred 
voices strong, from the very area that our cottage is located,
broke into song: The Battle Hymn of the Republic! 

I met a lot of my fellow citizens that day including formerfirst lady Mrs. Carter, it was the second time we’d met. WhenI thanked her for being with us, she replied in that sweetsouthern accent: how naaaace to see you again. Makingdeep connections at the Embassy with other Americans for 
the first time in a year made me feel less anxious and alone;
more centered. 

During these past 25 years, I’ve listened, watched, studiedand wept over the many stories of 9/11/01. While the evilof that day is unspeakable and it blows my mind to ponderman’s inhumanity to mankind, I try instead to think about 
the many that day who were, and still are, compassionate,
brave, strong, resilient. I’ll echo what others have said about 
those who lost their lives on that day, do not dwell on thetragic way they perished, but rather hon-or the heroic waythat they lived. 

Oh, and my photos that I had developed from Boots theChemist on 9/11/01? At the cottage that day, I was hesitantas I opened the package during a necessary break from theTV and its devastating news. Hopeful that I captured adecent picture of those twin towers, I was so disappointedto discover that most of my photos were of the ship, andinterior shots of the public rooms. 

Suddenly I remembered that it was drizzling with rainon deck and my camera was getting wet while trying tophotograph New York City. I looked again at each picture 

-carefully. 
Then I saw it. A photograph of Manhattan’s skyscrapers –
and - as if it were outlined in sa-cred splendor- stands theWorld Trade Center, framed by a rainbow overhead. 

~ Catherine Enmark Addé 


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