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Ah, Jersey City, New Jersey, a diminutive twin of the world's financial center that shimmered so majestically across the river.

The day broke glorious. A late summer sun-filled time deleted thoughts of autumn close. My train from Bergen County was jammed with its usual suspects destined for Hoboken. Executives, brokers,traders and support personnel from the city's business district were sleeping or quietly reading the financial or sports pages. Many would be connecting with PATH to the World Trade Center, while others would be manning satellite offices on the Jersey side. Ironically, some were making the last commute of their lives.

I reached my ninth floor office at a major brokerage firm precisely at 8:20AM, as was my custom. I considered myself blessed to have such a beautiful view of the harbor with the skyline of Manhattan as its backdrop. Today seemed extraordinary, crystal clear panoramas sweeping left and right 180 degrees. My usual routine fell calmly into place. Turn on all five computer screens that most traders utilize, watch the talking heads pontificating on the business channels and prepare for the opening of trading on Wall Street commencing shortly. Then, at 8:46AM, the earth stood still.

I was not in my office when the first airliner hit the North Tower of the World Trade Center. Back just seconds later, I noticed smoke pouring from the tower, which was directly in front of my view. Then, television began reporting a small plane had crashed into the tower. Imminent help had been dispatched. Seventeen minutes later, while watching the drama unfold from my window, I saw what I thought resembled a large ICBM type missile hit the South Tower. The sun had flashed a glint from the silver fuselage so it seemed like a projectile without wings. I knew we were under attack. But from whom?

Shortly thereafter, New York City was placed under a lock down. In the office, we clung to each other, praying that those in the financial district would be safe. Most had relatives, friends and business associates in those buildings. At 9:45AM, American Airlines flight 77 crashed into the Pentagon in Washington D.C. Within minutes, the order was given for our building to be evacuated. An immediate withdrawal ensued. We hit ground level, joining thousands. Police manned each intersection, siphoning traffic away from the water.

One could not have ever dreamed of the emotional groundswell at that location. People felt helpless, adrift. Many were angry. Then, at 10:05AM the

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