I was in the office. I’d only been at St. Barts for a few months. I’d gotten to work early because I needed to finish some paperwork before driving to Rochester. Doreen, a parishioner, was volunteering, taking calls and organizing the mail. I was listening to the radio when it seemed to turn off suddenly. At least I think it did. It came back on with the announcement that the towers were struck.
I made some phone calls to my friends who were working there. One person watched from his office not too far from the towers. I called a parishioner in White Plains who had once worked there himself. But my memory remains foggy, and only the emotional impression remains.
The Divine Latitude 