Meet Amy Krakow - #AlembikaWomen

I woke up around 7, 7:30 am and then got in my car and drove to 18th St to pick up edited copy that I needed for a meeting later that day.  Got back home, parked the car, then  due to being total exhausted, debated which bank to go to- the one across the street from City Hall, or the one in the WTC.  Went to City Hall. Back at home, listened to voice mails and heard. what sounded like a plane speeding up that then went THUD. It sounded like it crashed on the other side of the WTC, south of it. I figured I would wait until I heard the sirens before I went downstairs to see what was going on. But it seemed like the sirens were taking a while to arrive. I was sure they arrived quicker in 1993. 

So, i went downstairs and glanced left to see almost all of my neighbors and a few strangers standing together on the corner of West Broadway looking up.   I said to one neighbor: small plane?  And one of the no -neighbors said: "Commercial plane.  American." It took a me a day or two to translate what she said, and she was totally correct.  It wasn't a small plane, it WAS a commercial plane, an American airlines plane. Having been around for the first bombing of the WTC, most of us in the neighborhood expected another attack.  So we knew it was a terrorist attack. 

This story continues as my neighbors and I spoke of our concerns, waiting to see what would happen next.  And then it did.  Second plane hit.

Unpleasant to live without your medication, a laptop computer, because you couldn't take a big computer, per the guards, makeup, clothing, etc. 

So, why was life never the same:

I became a practicing Buddhist because I was so frustrated and angered by war and terrorism, our government and the actions they took. It seemed to be the best way to deal with what I saw and experienced.

Our neighborhood looked like Vienna at the end of WW II.  Our backyard: the WTC, was gone.  Buildings that people never saw on TV  because the press was kept a long way away, were damaged beyond repair, and many were torn down. The collateral damage was intense. Living there was challenging.  What happened to the people who worked in mall underneath the buildings? The young woman who served me my daily coffee on my way to the gym?  What happened to all the people who worked at the gym, who checked me in, who ran the classes, my trainers?

More important, it made me understand why so many did not leave Poland, or Germany even though they knew the Nazis would be sending them to their death in the camps.   This was my home. My friends. My neighbors. My community.  The shoe repair man.  The dry cleaner.  The tiny Vietnamese sandwich counter  that grew to be a lovely neighborhood restaurant. The local Mexican place on the corner that also went from small to large, to larger. 

I was always a fighter, and I was not going to let terrorists drive me from my home, even though, to this day, 20 years later,  I still believe someone will return to bomb the new buildings there. 

We stayed for five more years  and then moved miles away, still in NYC, but as far from downtown as possible.  I loved that neighborhood and the community because we had been pioneers.  The rebuilding made it into something it wasn't, something that wasn't our neighborhood.  So things were never the same...

There is bad, good, and so-so from life never being the same...

 

My business was destroyed, as it too, was in the area, and I had to make the decision to rebuild it to 30 employees or choose to keep it much smaller. 

I chose to keep it small so I could do more of the things that I enjoyed about the work. 

I remained married, even though we dealt with enormous emotional and financial stress and tough times due to not being able to live in our own home, not being able to go to or even do my business for many, many months. 

I've had to deal with one of the illnesses that befell many of us who worked or lived at or near the site. No, Im not going to die from it, and I do not receive money from the fund.

Our dog was fine in the kennel, I was able to pick him up  on 9/12 and he provided lots more unconditional love. Then, one week after we moved back in, while walking him, I fell on some of the leftover 9/11 debris, and broke my ankle.

I continue to practice Buddhism.

And the apartment we live in now has an amazing view of the Hudson and NJ. 

Usually,  I like to clear my mind and then sleep on it.  If it requires more than a night or two of sleep, then I'll get in the car, alone,  and go for a ride: perhaps to Shelter Island, perhaps to Coney Island, Rockaway or City Island. Wherever there's water nearby. Then go for a walk on the beach.  Or the boardwalk, Or sit at a restaurant and contemplate the bay.  Or, just go for a walk in town wherever/whenever it's quiet, which usually means something like Wall Street on a Sunday, or early in the morning.