Where were you?

The following is Rich's account of September 11th, 2001:

I recently started working with Design Electric as an electrical apprentice. This job was not just any old job; this was my first “real” job. Working for Design Electric was great. There was nothing more enjoyable than waking up at seven in the morning, strapping on the old work boots and seeing what bit of knowledge I could beat out of Jameson. Jameson was my mentor, he was a young proud man, he stood about six-two, he tipped the scales at about two hundred thirty pounds and loved to drink, boy did he love to drink. He never talked much about his problem with the bottle, or for that matter what his bottle of choice was. He didn’t have to. His blood shot eyes, red filled face and the pungent smell of Mad Dog 20/20 said it all, not to mention his relentless use of Advil. Jameson‘s personal life really didn’t mean much to me. However, his superb electrician skills did. His ability to teach me and show me the ins and outs of the trade led me to grow a great deal of respect towards him. When he spoke I listened, when gave me some meaningless job to do I did it, and when he told me something I knew that he wasn’t bullshitting me, like the rest of the electricians on the job. For this, I trusted him.

It was September 11, 2001: “its break time boy” Jameson shouted, determined to finish a wire pull that I was struggling with; I replied “I’ll be down in a minute”. Without missing a step Jameson headed down to the job site trailer where we took our morning breaks. Still struggling with the wire pull I decided that it was a good possibility that I needed some help. After setting my pride aside I easily talked myself into joining the rest of the guys for morning break. As I drew near the trailer I noticed a silence, this was very unusual. Morning breaks are usually filled with yelling, shouting, and an unhealthy amount of disgusting profanity. When I reached the trailer I was stopped by one of the other apprentices with his head hung low, in a soft voice said “the World Trade Center has been attacked, and there maybe a number of causalities.” In disbelief, I immediately scanned for Jameson. When I looked into his watery blood shot eyes I received a slow painful head nod. It was this simple gesture that said more than any words could.

To all my fellow Americans lost and victims who suffered a loss; you will be loved, remembered, and forever in my heart.