A Decade of Hope

by Dennis Smith

  My dad was an immigrant, and he actually died as a Japanese citizen. He was trying to get American citizenship. He had a green card, and I think he represented the idea that everyone comes to America and tries to make a living for himself. He represented the American dream and what America stands for, like freedom. My dad wanted my brother and me both to grow up to have an American education, and I don’t think he liked Japanese society too much. My folks moved from Japan when they were about thirty, so they spent most of their adult lives outside of Japan. So I really do think my dad represented the American dream, and that’s what al Qaeda attacked.

  They recovered my dad’s body very quickly, in the last week of September. Two police officers came to our house and told us that they found him early in the morning. They told us that his body had been severely damaged, that it had been burned, and in water, and they recommended that we not look at it. So I have no idea how intact it was. I like to think it was pretty much intact. I’ve never verified it, but it’s probably pretty easy to do so. There were fewer than three hundred intact bodies recovered, and I always consider my dad to have been one of those. We were able to have a service for him around the first week of October. At that time I had no idea how lucky, relatively lucky, my family was, that they recovered his body.

  I’ve met people who had only an elbow or another small part of their loved one recovered. I can’t imagine how hard that is. I think finding my father helped me, because it happened at the end of September, so I was able to kind of start the process of closure earlier than most. You know, you start accepting the reality, just trying to move on.

  We had had hope, but then I had to accept that my dad had passed away at the World Trade Center. We had him cremated, and we buried him. I was able then to start the healing process.

  There was a gentleman who passed away at the World Trade Center whose name was Keiji Takahashi, and my dad was Keiichiro Takahashi. Because the names are so similar, a lot people mixed them up, and we would get things for Keiji Takahashi, or the other family would get things for Keiichiro Takahashi. Part of me still kind of thinks that maybe they mixed up the DNA, and the person that we actually buried is Keiji Takahashi. I don’t know if they found Mr. Keiji Takahashi, and because of that, sometimes I think that maybe my dad’s still out there alive. I just sometimes feel that he became something like a dissociative figure and just picked up and moved to another city and set up a whole new life. You know, he never had that option beforehand. And I know that that’s unlikely, but it’s a small hope. But for the most part, I have accepted that he’s not going to come back, ever.

  One of the things I think about when I go into the Tribute Center is that I had a very sheltered childhood. I didn’t really have many worries. My biggest worries when I awoke on 9/11, since it was the beginning of the semester and I didn’t even have to worry about tests, were getting my reading done for class, or what party I was going to go to that weekend, or what I was going to wear. Typical college issues. But after 9/11 that all changed, and my worries became, Okay. Well, how is my mom going to take care of herself? She didn’t work, and my father was the provider for the family. More important, What is she going to do for health insurance? Then there was the filling out of paperwork, getting a death certificate, and the whole beneficiary payouts for the life insurance. My mom speaks English, but for something like going to Pier 94, she’d rather just have me take care of it, because my English is better. And I remember thinking, I don’t want to do it. Or my dad had been paying for my tuition, so I was fortunate in that I didn’t have to take out student loans or work during college. But then I realized, Oh, I guess I have to start working. I remember thinking that I had to grow up pretty quickly, and I guess at nineteen most people think they are grown-up already. But I wasn’t grown-up yet, and it was a dramatic shift. My mom had been taking care of me, but now I felt as if I had to take care of her, and I felt that dramatic shift.

  The Euro Brokers people were amazing—they were so helpful. They did everything that they could to make it easier for the family members. They actually provided health insurance and life coverage. That was the biggest thing I worried about, because it’s so hard to get health insurance. They were also very supportive and set up a fund in which one day every year all the brokers give up their commissions and donate it toward the Euro Brokers fund for the families [the Euro Brokers Relief Fund]. They also held a service for the sixty-one employees they lost.

  But after 9/11 it was hard on my mother. I think it was the first time I saw my mom cry. She has really supportive friends. She always had friends in from town, always over talking and supporting us. I think we had people over almost every day just for company, to make sure we were eating. And one of our family’s friends came and stayed with us for about a week. My mom doesn’t really like talking about it. I don’t think she has gone down to Ground Zero. We get invited to go to the memorial every year, and she’s never gone down there for that. Even for the memorial.

  I think she’s actually doing okay. In addition to moving into the city, one of her greatest assets is that she has a group of good friends who are very supportive. I’m sure she gets lonely sometimes, but I don’t think she’s depressed or anything. I think she’s dealt with that.

  One of the things that changed for me is that I now think often about how glad I am that my dad was in my life. Right after 9/11 one of my friends who had lost her dad to cancer said to me that she was so happy to have had him. I had never thought about it much then. It was hard for her to come to this point, but she was just really glad that he was a part of her life, because she had all these memories of him. But I think about it now a lot, and I’m just so glad that my dad was a part of my life. Going to Europe, or walking through town with him, I’m just glad he gave me the opportunity to be exposed to these things. Of course, I had those days where I was mad at him for something or other, but that quickly fades away. You don’t even think about that.

  My dad was a very calming presence. I always felt safe when he was around. It’s also that the whole world was a lot safer and secure when he was around. I miss that so much. And it is hard to think that he’s not going to be around for milestones.

  At my high school graduation, he took a million and one pictures of me walking up, getting my diploma, and walking back. He was so happy doing that. I was just thinking about my college graduation—he wasn’t there. When I get married, he won’t be there for that either. I wish my dad could have seen how well my brother turned out and what an amazing person his wife is. It would have been so nice if they could have met each other.

  For the most part I don’t like to think about how my dad might have died. We have no idea where he was or what he was doing. He was in the South Tower, but we don’t know at all if he had tried to get out, or where he was at the moment he died. I was thinking about this recently: He died all alone. It’s an awful way to die, to be scared, and by himself. I always think about that—an awful way to die. He probably knew he was going to die, he was alone and scared, and it’s just . . . I don’t really want to think about it. I don’t know if I’ve integrated that. I don’t know . . .

  I definitely am surprised that it’s been ten years. It feels like it went by really fast. There’s an absence still felt, and I don’t think it’s ever going to go away. Holidays are hard. When my brother got married, I definitely felt it. But it doesn’t feel like ten years.

  I think I would have changed a lot even if my dad were alive—just growing up, going to college, getting a job, all that stuff that has happened regardless. But I think sometimes that my life would have been more complete with him here. When I think about the past ten years, I think, What have I accomplished that I’m most proud of? I guess I’m independent, and my mom isn’t supporting me, which I think is good. I think my relationship with Mom has matured. Because my brother went to school in London, he wasn’t around much, so we weren’t close at first. But now we talk more often. In the last ten years my relationsh
ips with my family and my friends have changed for the better. While some of it would have happened with or without 9/11, after 9/11 it became so important to have good relationships. And to find meaning in things.

  Another thing that has changed for me is that I started to do volunteering at the Tribute Center. I wanted to do volunteer work, and part of the reason I chose the Tribute Center, a major charity in New York City, is that I was looking at the New York City government Web site, where they have all the charities listed. You can go through what you’re interested in, and the time you have that is available, and Tribute came up. So I wanted to remember 9/11. I don’t want to forget or ignore it; I just want to be a part of it.

  When I found out that you actually give tours and talk to people about your experience, I was like, What am I going to say? I thought, Just how would I best honor Dad’s memory? I kept thinking about my dad and being part of the American dream, and I think the decision I came to was that we all need to be sending out the message of hope. And so that’s the message I wanted to send in honor of my Dad. I’m about to turn twenty-nine, and I’ve never had to deal with anything but losing my dad. I thought that getting older would help me to deal better with not just losing my dad, but losing my dad like this, in 9/11. I remember I only got through it because I received so much support, not just from my friends but from random strangers—when people came to our house and dropped off food, whenever I went to the Pier 94 and social workers would come and talk. I had one friend who was friends with a volunteer firefighter in Buffalo, and he wanted to come down and volunteer at Ground Zero. He just wanted to do something to help. Yes, there are people out there who don’t care for others, who could care less about my dad, or what the terrorists did to my family, or what they did to everyone else, and all of those families. But there are a lot more people who want to help out, a lot more good people than bad ones. The message that I want to send, and why I joined Tribute to speak to those visitors to Ground Zero on our tours, is really peace. The world needs peace. And that’s what I wanted to do, to honor my dad.

  The first time I did the tour, I started out as a support person. I didn’t actually give the tour, but I made sure people kept up with us, and I also gave a five-minute speech about my own story in the middle of the tour. At first I wasn’t sure what to expect. I wasn’t sure what kind of people would be on the tour, what their reaction would be, or why they wanted to take the tour in the first place. In training you were prepared for people who just want to talk about, maybe, terrorists, and how to take it into that direction. Or how to talk about whatever is going on with the war in Afghanistan or the war in Iraq, and take it in that direction, but not so much remembering 9/11. And so I was thinking, I hope I don’t get a bunch of people who just want my opinion on the war. I was a little bit nervous at first, but then I did the tour, and nobody has asked anything about Iraq. They have just wanted to know our own 9/11 stories, the lead tour guide’s and mine. I was so touched by that.

  I can’t believe these people come to us, out of all the things to do in New York City, but they take the time to learn more about the World Trade Center and 9/11. And they listen to me, about my memory and about who am I. We get to chat with the visitors, and they are so pleasant and supportive. A lot of people, I can see, are just silently praying. They might say, I didn’t know your name or your dad’s, but I was praying for you.

  When I started doing the lead tours and had to talk, and give all these facts—when the World Trade Center was built, how many floors there were, how many elevators there were—I was nervous, because I’ve never really done public speaking, and I’m not good at it. And I was nervous that I might mix up facts and my words. But everyone has been reassuring. They are interested, and they haven’t grilled me. They thank me for taking the time to give them the tour.

  My tour takes only about an hour and fifteen minutes at most, because I talk and walk really fast. There’s a firefighter who’s a tour guide who rescued one of the last guys out of the building. He goes into a lot of detail, and he probably takes about two hours. It’s just an amazing story.

  When I first started volunteering I sometimes felt a little bit selfish, almost. I wasn’t going out mentoring kids, or trying to make a cancer patient’s life better. I was just giving tours and talking about my dad. But then it came clear to me that giving the message of 9/11 is giving the message of what happens when people are intolerant. The people that are on the tour come away with the idea that war and hate aren’t the answer.

  I am also on the junior board of Tuesday’s Children, an organization that helps and mentors children of 9/11 and others affected by global terrorism. I think it’s hard for any of us to lose a parent under any circumstances, especially the kids who lost a parent on 9/11. Many kids today of course probably don’t really remember that day, for it’s hard to grasp its enormity when you’re three. So I think it’s a great organization, and I am glad I am able to help.

  My father was just fifty-three. He had a full life ahead. My parents looked forward to not having to take care of the kids anymore. When I was a freshman my mom and my dad took a trip together to Washington, D.C., just the two of them, which they hadn’t done in ages. They were looking forward to that simply because they hadn’t done that: taking a trip by themselves to just reconnect. Usually they would always include my brother and me.

  I feel our country is getting worse. You’re always hearing about terrorist attacks, more attacks and more intolerance. My personal belief is that the mosque shouldn’t come to the World Trade Center. I think they have every right to build a mosque. Islam is a religion of peace—it’s just a small minority who advocate violence and become terrorists. It’s not like Muslim equals terrorism. But I just feel like people are growing more wary of each other, more distrustful. We hear about more terrorist attacks, or read how the government thwarted an attack, or about the screening at the airports. I know these things are supposed to make the world a better place. But I sometimes feel like they’re not.

  When I was in elementary school there was a camp for kids who were Palestinian and Israeli. When they went to camp together, they realized that they’re all just kids who actually have a lot in common. They could get along, and they became friends, and they didn’t understand the whole Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Kids are more tolerant, and if they are exposed to one another, maybe this won’t be an issue. They will all be friends. I guess we have to teach tolerance to become more tolerant. And our politics in America—[we] don’t really seem to be getting along. I think it’s kind of bleak.

  I just hope that people will always remember 9/11. Remember the tragedy. The outlook is bleak, but if people remember 9/11, they will have hope, and make sure it doesn’t happen again. I hope . . . I hope so.

  Ray Habib

  Ray Habib is a docent volunteer at the Tribute WTC Visitor Center, where he gives walking tours of the Ground Zero site. His wife, Barbara, worked in Midtown as an executive with Marsh Inc., a subsidiary of Marsh & McLennan Companies. On the morning of 9/11, though, she was at a meeting with senior members of that firm at their World Trade Center offices. The firm lost 295 employees and 60 contractors that day, including Barbara Habib.

  I was a former teacher of health and physical education at Bishop Ford High School in Park Slope, Brooklyn, where I had started right after college. The wife of a coworker of mine worked for Marsh & McLennan, where she was a managing director in the aviation division and was like a superstar with the company. She knew Barbara very, very well. In those days Marsh had a pretty big expense account, and my buddy’s wife had access to the Madison Square Garden box that Marsh rented for the year. It happened that there was an oldies concert, and my buddy and his wife had extra tickets, and said, “Ray, why don’t you come by?” It was not a setup; Barbara and a few of the other Marsh employees happened to be there in the Skybox too. We chatted a little. She was living in Staten Island at the time, and I was working in Staten Island at the time, so there was some
common ground. By the time the concert was over I thought I had made a little bit of a connection.

  I followed up with my buddy, What’s her story? And so on. His wife did not want to introduce me to her, but finally she did, and gave me Barbara’s number. So we talked, we went out, had a few dates, and it all went well. Barbara had gone to Kingsborough Community College in Brooklyn, but college really wasn’t for her. She stepped right into a position with Marsh and was so dedicated and hardworking an employee that she had a great potential for advancement. She stayed with the company, had a number of different promotions, and rose to a position of high responsibility. After two years we moved in together, and two years later we were married. Barbara had been married previously, but it was my first, and I was fortytwo, so a little bit late in life to get married. We were going to have one of these big, grand extravaganzas, and she was all for it. Maybe if I had been ten years younger we could have put it together, but we ended up having a small but very nice church wedding at Our Lady of Angels Church. We were both Catholic, and a good friend of mine who is a priest came and officiated at the service. We had the reception at a small restaurant in Staten Island. Funny thing, it was actually pouring rain on our wedding day—like buckets. The minute the service was over the rain stopped. All sunshine. We had four years of a wonderful marriage. Some might not consider that a long time, but for me it was a lifetime.

  We were living in Staten Island and decided we really preferred to live in Brooklyn, so we bought a place on Ridge Boulevard in Bay Ridge. We renovated it for seven months and actually moved into the apartment the week before September 11. We had everything ordered—furniture, lamps, rugs, everything—and on September 10 spent our first night there. She made her first pasta meal. We enjoyed it—good food, new furniture, an apartment we loved, a kind of milestone in our marriage. And then, the next day.