by Lucinda Ruh
It was time to find my coach a new home. Since they had never lived in America before and had no financial credit, I thought to make it easier on them I would get an apartment under my name and one that we could all share in the beginning. Then once they were used to the city, they could venture off in their own direction. I would have to be their tour guide so I wanted to be close to them so they could rely on me for the all the new experiences they would have to live through upon arrival.
My mother and I, knowing he would teach in the city, were looking for an apartment close to the ice rink. I would be skating there as well so it would all work out well. We found a wonderful apartment in Tribeca, right on the waterfront. From the apartment the view was beautiful on the peaceful Hudson and the other side you could see a glimpse of the Wall Street buildings standing tall and strong, and of course the stoic Twin Towers rising above the rest. It was perfect. My coach was still in Japan and through phone calls and visual interpretations of the apartment he agreed to it and the lease was signed. My apartment in Hackensack was up as well so the timing was perfect. We would move into the apartment at the end of July and they would arrive a few weeks later in August.
My mother and I decorated the apartment. It was two bedrooms and two bathrooms so that my mother and I could have one half and they the other. We would share the kitchen. We made sure they would feel comfortable by adding an Asian flare to it as well. We knew that moving to a different country and continent together with a foreign language would have its challenges and we were sensitive to all the little nuances. We had done it so many times before that we knew what was needed.
August arrived and I was enthusiastic about their arrival. My mother drove to the airport. I had driven in Sun Valley but I was not comfortable driving in big cities. The cars rushing by scared me and brought back memories of driving the highways in California. Something about the speed absolutely terrified me. I felt like all the high speed was generating too much energy around me, like life was passing by way too fast. I did not feel in control of my life; therefore, I did not feel in control behind a wheel.
At the airport we waited for them, looking intensely at the passengers lugging their suitcases coming out of the doors that opened and closed and opened and closed. Every time the doors opened we would feel a rush of adrenaline and when it turned out not to be them, we’d feel a wave of disappointment. Up and down our emotions went. Were they even on the plane? Did they freak out in the last minute? Our minds were going fast but to our delight they finally exited. They looked totally lost but grateful to see our faces and they rushed over and hugged us. It was to be the start of an incredibly mournful journey.
They loved the apartment and were grateful for our all that we had done for them. The next few weeks we let them settle in and my coach started work right away in the city. We skated together and he taught me on the ice, but more importantly taught lessons on life, and helped me get back on my feet in preparation for the tour. For them everything was very new and different. New York City takes a while to adjust for some since it “never sleeps” and wherever you look there is a lot of live flesh and a lot of dead concrete. You could feel suffocated and engulfed and so alone and alienated, and I was hoping they would not give in to it. You could tell from their bewildered eyes they would need some time to adjust.
My coach and I got bicycles so that we could bike up and down the Hudson River to the ice rink. He looked the most comfortable on these rides, loving the freedom of the bike and his expression with the wind blowing in his face made him look like a little kid loving his very first ride. I loved that about my coach. He put meaning in everything he did and said, throwing nothing away into the universe. Everything and every moment were sacred and beautifully orchestrated.
My mother and his wife sometimes stayed home. They would cook together, and my mother took her around the area to show her places such as Chinatown and taught her how to use a washing machine and dishwasher. She had never seen appliances like ours and to her they must have seemed as foreign as space objects in their shining silver metal. It was like placing a woman from the 1800s into the world of present day. She was overwhelmed and had a lot to learn. My mother and she went for evening walks after dinner and they became friends with no speech. I was very close to my coach and we would skate together, do off-ice together, and play tennis together. We were a great student-teacher team. It was a special and memorable time of two totally different cultures living together under the same roof, understanding each other, helping each other out, and devouring each other’s foods and culture. On top of all this I was also elated that my father had scheduled to come visit us in New York on the thirteenth of September. I couldn’t wait.
During the duration of that short one month everything was going very smoothly. No trouble, no fighting. His work and my skating were good and they both liked the city. On September 10th in the early evening I felt like going to the World Trade Center shopping area to look around a little. I had been to the shopping area numerous times and loved the hustle and bustle of it and the atmosphere. It felt so grand and powerful to be in the presence of people that were such a huge part of the whole world’s economy. To me it seemed like history was being written on every desk that was deeply rooted in the ground yet way up above on every floor that rose to the sky. I went to the shops and bought a few things and walked back home.
The next morning was September 11, 2001. My coach went to the rink earlier than I since he had lessons to teach. My mother and I left home around eight a.m. My coach’s wife stayed home. My mother en route to the ice rink mentioned she had forgotten her phone at home. We were going to go back to retrieve it, but there was already so much traffic that morning and we thought we would be back home soon enough so we continued our way to the rink. As usual I got on the ice around 8:20 a.m. The ice rink was at Chelsea Piers and there were many televisions in the dining area adjoining the two ice rinks. The morning news was always on. The ice rink was sparse with only a few skaters and a few coaches. Students had already left for school.
I was having a lesson with my coach when suddenly the rink manager came into the rink and told the parents of the skaters to come take a look at what was happening on the television. I and some other skaters and the coaches continued with our practice. The parents came back into the rink and sat back down and continued to watch us. Not longer than five minutes later the manager came back in and said that we should all get off the ice since something serious was happening. His voice had urgency to it and without questioning him we took our belongings and got off. As we got off the ice we could see in the distance smoke rising into the sky. It looked frightful. Not knowing what had happened, we all with our skates on huddled in front of the television screen. The first tower had been hit and when the parents had first seen it, the event had not seemed so bad but by now the situation had escalated. We were all speechless looking at the television monitor.
Then we became motionless as the second tower was hit. Still with our skates on, we watched. People in the rink were running back and forth and chaos started. We skaters just sat there with big eyes not comprehending the situation. My coach called his wife and they briefly spoke. My coach sighed with relief that she was all right. He told her to stay put and not go anywhere. We called my father and told him we were at the ice rink and were okay. We couldn’t believe our eyes and ears. The journalists were still trying to figure out what was happening.
We all stayed glued to the television. I was still at the ice rink with my skates on long after both towers fell down. We did not move, not knowing what to do or where to go. By now hundreds of people were running uptown and it felt like they were all rushing to where we were. I felt like we needed to run uptown too. We all started to panic. My mother, coach, and I would not be able to get back to our home. Our home was in zone one and everyone had been evacuated. My coach became more frantic as he tried and tried again to call his wife. By now all cell phones were not working and there was no way h
e would be able to reach her. His face turned white. It was arranged for us to stay at another skating coach’s apartment for one night. We thankfully accepted her invitation and that evening was terrifying.
This is what war had to feel like in the olden days where everyone was hiding in their homes, not daring to step out, and just huddled together watching the news. It felt like the sounds from the radios and televisions were echoing throughout Manhattan. For a city that never sleeps the city felt dead since there was no soul in the streets. There was the smell of death and burning metals that layered the city from the fire downtown and it would stay for weeks. You could smell it all the way uptown.
That evening my coach could still not reach his wife and he looked so devastated. He looked like he was about to collapse. My mother said that maybe she had been evacuated to New Jersey or to Brooklyn and we were sure she was being taken care of. My mother and I felt so responsible and we hid our fear. We could only stay one night there before we would have to find another home to stay at. It was arranged through another skating friend that we could stay a week at a beautiful friend’s home on the Upper West Side by Central Park. We felt like balls being juggled left and right.
The next morning before we left to go to the next home, we all went to the ice rink so I could practice. Like I have said before, even if the sky were to fall above us you would have found me at the ice rink lacing up my skates. They had wanted to use the ice rink as a morgue but all the bodies that were found in the rubble had disintegrated so much that the ice rink was not needed. It was available for us skaters. I tried to skate but could not. I just burst into tears. Skating seemed so pointless after what had happened, so irrelevant, so useless at that point. I did not want to practice. I got off the ice.
My coach continually tried to reach his wife and at long last after my practice he was able to reach her. His face lit up like I had never seen it before! She said was going to bike up to meet us there. My mother, coach, and I waited for her. As we saw her approaching he ran towards her like welcoming home a war veteran. It was beautiful to see such love and admiration and care for each other. They tearfully hugged for a while and my mother and I smiled from our hearts. As we understood, this is what happened to her. Since my coach had told her to stay put, and since she did not understand a word of English, she just stayed in the apartment. The building was evacuated but she followed her husband’s orders. She only once quickly ventured out to the rooftop to see the fire but had to quickly get back in since the smoke was suffocating her. Once back in the apartment she could not see anything as the black smoke engulfed the whole building. She lit candles since there was no electricity.
Earlier in the evening she had taken her bicycle, and following a policeman she rode all the way to Chelsea Piers but could not find us, so she rode back down to the apartment. How she rode back and was let through I have no idea but luck was on her side and she slept that night in the apartment! It was quite a story to tell and she was a remarkable lady. She even said she was not scared. Her survival instincts had kicked in and she just did what she thought needed to be done. All back together again we went to the new home where we would be staying for a week or so. We felt homeless but we felt cared for and grateful that we had a roof over our heads. On the other hand, half way around the world my father was stuck in Switzerland. He was supposed to arrive the next day but all the flights had been cancelled. He said he would wait there until the first flight took off again to New York City.
Every day my coach and I would go to the ice rink to practice. I had many shows coming up and rehearsals for Stars on Ice would commence soon and I could not be off the ice. I forced myself to go through the motions. The atmosphere was heavy and it was hard to even try to work on the ice. My heart went out to those who were suffering so much through this ordeal. On the Hudson River, Pier 40 had transformed into a meeting point for those who needed to retrieve their pets and for those who needed to go back to their homes to retrieve belongings that were down in zone one. My mother, while we practiced, would walk to Pier 40 to see if they would let her go down to our apartment to get our passports and all the necessary belongings and paperwork we needed. The authorities said we probably would not be able to return to live in our home for a month or more so it was urgent that we go there to retrieve some valuables. They would however not let anyone go down there yet. It was too soon.
My mother walked to this pier every day. She recalls these walks as being like those she had walked in war stricken Tehran twenty two years ago. Sometimes I went with her after skating and sometimes she went alone. My coach told us that if and when we were allowed to go to retrieve our belongings he wanted me also to bring back one of their suitcases for them. They explained to me which one they wanted but since I had never intruded into their bedroom, I had only a visual image of their description. They were old-school and since hiding money under the mattress was a normal occurrence to them, this suitcase probably had all their savings in it! It was very important to them that I take this suitcase. I promised I would.
We were not allowed to go to our home until about one week after 9/11. We were first in line and my mother and I were granted permission. My coach and his wife wanted to go down with us but they had no identification that they lived there, so they were not allowed to go. Two policemen escorted us to our apartment in Tribeca. It was a long walk from Pier 40 and there were hundreds and hundreds of people lining the streets of the West Side Highway cheering with their flags and applauding all the ambulances, fire trucks, and policemen that were driving up and down the highway with their sirens echoing in the air. It was an eerie experience to be walking down this highway with two armed policemen, one in front of us and one behind us. It felt like we were part of the military and on a mission to save lives.
At long last we reached our home. Our apartment was on the 20th floor and since all the electricity had been cut, the elevators were not working. The building was quiet with not a soul anywhere. It was spooky and the disaster area was just a short walk away. It gave me the shivers. All four of us walked up the twenty flights of stairs. By the time we reached our apartment my mother was so nervous that she fumbled with the house key. The policemen had a look on their faces indicating they thought that we might not even live there, but I took the key from my mother and calmly opened the door. The policemen said we had only five minutes to pack up and go. They would look at their watches and time us.
My mother and I ran into the apartment and as quickly as we could we filled two suitcases and I grabbed the suitcase my coach had described to me. “Time’s up,” the policemen shouted and out we had to go. We were nervous, and panicky. We closed the door and locked it with the key. Down we went twenty floors with our suitcases in tow. We tripped a lot but the policemen did not help us with our load. We had one policeman in front of us and one behind us. Walking down in silence we heard only our footsteps and the occasional bump of the suitcase on the walls that made the staircase so narrow.
As soon as we were out we parted ways with the policemen who said they had to go to help other residents like us who were waiting for their escort into their apartment.
My mother and I were left on our own to walk back up the highway to Pier40. The side streets were so packed with people behind the barricades and policemen holding them in that we were told to walk up the highway in the right car lane where it was empty. We were the only ones walking up this highway. We heavily put one foot in front of the other lugging our heavy suitcases, exhausted physically, and mostly mentally, and as we passed the people they started clapping and cheering us on. They must have seen our despair on our faces, or they might have thought we had been rescued, but whatever the cause, we were cheered on like heroes. It was wonderful and at the same time embarrassing since we had just gone to retrieve our belongings and felt unworthy of such cheering. It did help us tremendously, however, to give us the strength for us to be able to walk all the way back up.
My coach and his wife told
us they would be waiting for us at Pier 40. We trudged on. Finally we saw them from a distance and as ambulances and police and FBI cars were continuously whizzing by us we were able to manage a smile when we saw their faces in the crowd. We reached them, and the police let my coach and his wife out of the barricaded area to greet us. But as soon as we hugged them his wife started to scream at me — really screaming and shouting at me. I realized I had brought the wrong suitcase and she was fuming. I started to cry, feeling they had not been appreciative and had not even voiced a thank-you before complaining. As she was screaming at me in Chinese and I was crying, my coach tried to pull her back and police surrounding us tried to calm us down. Even psychologists that were on hand appeared to ask if we needed help. She quieted down and we left the area distraught and took a taxi to the place we where we were going to stay.
We were all hurt in one way or another by all that had happened and the tension rose among the four of us. My mother and I would go to eat Japanese food for dinner and they would go to eat Chinese food. We became separated and it felt like they were mad at us for making them go through all of this. But it hadn’t been our fault that 9/11 had happened. Although we felt sorry for them that this had to be their experience of America just one month after arriving, we were doing the best we could as well. While my mother and I stayed a little longer in the apartment, my coach and his wife must not have felt comfortable, and they left to stay in Brooklyn with another Chinese skater’s family he taught. We lost communication for a few weeks thereafter. It always feels like you are intruding in someone’s space when you stay too long and it began to feel like that in the apartment. Although everyone in New York City stuck together during this time, it can’t be overlooked that the people were tense and scared and it did not help the situation. It seemed to work perfectly that I had to go to the International Skating Center of Connecticut in Simsbury, Connecticut for a skating show the third week of September and then continue to stay there to start rehearsals with Stars on Ice. I departed the city with a big skating fan of mine and went by limo up to Connecticut leaving my mother behind. With my father arriving on the first flight available to New York City shortly after I left for Simsbury my mother would wait for him. Together they stayed at yet another friend’s apartment for a short while before they joined me. It felt a relief to be able to escape from the city. I felt like I could breathe again and step back away from all the chaos. In many ways it made me feel guilty that I had not stayed in the city and suffered together with the New Yorkers but I had work to do and promises to keep. I felt that it was a time that people needed to see joy as well as sorrow and I hoped to contribute in that way the best I could. Because I had no costumes with me and had not been able to retrieve them when we went back to the apartment, I did the show with practice clothes. It did not matter. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Glitz became irrelevant. Truth and life became virtues.
