Today's a day of reflection, remembrance and personal introspection.
It was the other side of disaster, a dose of humanity in a sea of horror, a refuge of love in a maze of confusion.
I found myself at my desk, looking for a semblance of normalcy and a familiar setting.
Instinctively I wrote this column, which was published that evening on TheStreet.com.
The Day the World Changed
By Todd Harrison
09/11/2001 08:33 PM EDT
Numbness. Shock. Anger. Sadness.
As I sit here with family and friends, awaiting calls that may never come, I am drawn to my keyboard -- and I'm not quite sure why.
Perhaps it's an attempt to somehow release the tremendous sadness that's locked inside me. Maybe I have hopes that sharing my grief will stop these images... stop the shaking.
It's ten hours after the fact, and I still feel the "boom" that shook my trading room.
I can still see the bodies falling from the first struck tower, one after another, as we gathered by the window in shock and confusion.
I can still hear the screams in my office "Oh my God! Oh my God!, Oh my God!" as the second plane hit ... and the image of that fireball rolling toward us will forever be etched in my mind.
I often write that "this too shall pass," but I will never be the same. Maybe that's a selfish thought, as tens of thousands of people won't have the opportunity to put this behind them.
Each time my phone rings and I hear the voice of a friend who I feared was lost, I break into tears.
Every time I get a call from someone who "just wanted to make sure" I'm still here, I'm reminded of how lucky I am to share relationships, memories and a past.
I know many of you read my column to make money, but do yourself a favor and surround yourself with loved ones this evening.
Some of the wealthiest people I know don't have two dimes to rub together, and a few of them will never see their children, parents or friends again.
More than anything else, I wish I'd kept my date to share a drink with my good friend at Cantor Fitz.
I was tired, opting to grab a good night's sleep rather than down a couple of apple martinis with my sage friend.
I'm sitting by my phone, brother, waiting for your call.
Drinks are on me.
Picking up the Pieces
Friends of mine that shared a similar experience dealt with their grief differently.
Some left the business entirely, opting to enjoy a life where bells wouldn't bookend their days.
Some married and others divorced as the specter of death shifted their path in life.
Folks fell into drug and alcohol addictions with hopes that self-medication would dull their pain.
We each did what we could.
We all did what we had to.
My personal path was reflexive and subconscious, guided by motivations I didn't fully understand at the time. I spent one more year with our fund before stepping down, shifting course and starting Minyanville.
Most of my peers thought I was crazy to relinquish such a high profile, lucrative position—and perhaps I was—but I wanted to do more with my life and create an existence where self-worth wasn't dictated by net worth.
Trading, for all its vice and virtues, offers little in the way of social redemption or societal benefit.
It wasn't easy—in fact, the following few years were the most difficult of my life as I simultaneously launched a fund, was the only writer on Minyanville and created The Ruby Peck Foundation for Children's Education to honor my grandfather and best friend, who had died a few months prior.
I didn't realize it at the time but for a period following the attacks, I suffered from depression. I worked twenty-hour days and when I wasn't hiding in the familiarity of business, I locked my doors, turned off the phone, closed my blinds and stayed in bed.
I didn't see my friends or seek the comfort of family. I simply wanted to pass time until I was again too busy to digest the overwhelming sadness that saturated my soul.
I always believed I was humble, particularly in a business where humility is viewed as a weakness. During that dark and vulnerable time when I looked deep within myself, I discovered what true humility was.
Lou Mannheim once said “Man looks in the abyss, there's nothing staring back at him. At that moment, man finds his character. And that is what keeps him out of the abyss.”
I put on a brave face each day largely because others were looking to me for guidance.
Ironically, it was that purpose—that self-imposed obligation—that allowed me to summon the strength to pull myself out of that seemingly endless crevasse.
I often tell people that New York City, America and the world forever changed that fateful day but each time I say that, I can't help but wonder if it's me who's changed.
I'm not the same person I was before the attacks but I'm a better man because of them.
Life Goes On
Something good comes from all things bad and the blessing of September 11th was one of perspective.
I appreciate the little things I once took for granted but never thought to question.
I understand the difference between having fun and being happy.
I realize time is a precious commodity and the arbiter of fate.
I’ve learned that a dream is only as powerful as those who believe in it, the difference between lessons and mistakes are the ability to learn from them and friction between opinions is where true education is borne.
And after a long, hard road, I’ve found that negative energy is wasted energy, money comes and goes and viewing obstacles as opportunities defines success.
Seven years after that fateful day, our country finds itself in a fragile socioeconomic state edging towards an election that has bifurcated society and brought our differences to bear.
It’s easy to be angry, place blame and lash out, particularly as cumulative financial imbalances unwind, debt is destroyed, homes are lost and policy makers desperately seek solutions that will burden future generations.
Today, however, is a day of reflection, a day of remembrance, a day of personal introspection.
The greatest wisdom is bred as a function of pain. We’re blessed with the opportunity to evolve and the experience to remember.
It should never take something bad to make us realize we've got it good and we all have profound reasons for gratitude.
On this day—and hopefully many others—let’s take a moment to appreciate what we have rather than lament about what we don’t.
May peace be with you.
Todd Harrison is the founder and Chief Executive Officer of Minyanville. Prior to his current role, Mr. Harrison was President and head trader at a $400 million dollar New York-based hedge fund. Todd welcomes your comments and/or feedback at email@example.com.
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