In the past few years, I’ve actively sought ways to commemorate the heroes and lives lost on 9/11/2001. Last year I bought “The Only Plane in the Sky” and vowed to read it in the weeks leading up to the 19th anniversary. In the early hours of the 10th, I read the story of Ron Fazio.
Constance Labetti, accountant, Aon Corporation, South Tower, 99th floor
Our boss, Ron Fazio, knew he had to get us out of there. He said, “Go to the staircase.” I started to climb down the steps, heels on, and sneakers in hand. I remember hearing the PA announcement— the PA announcement said, “Do not evacuate. Stay where you are. We have no structural damage. There’s structural damage to Tower One, which we’re evacuating, but Tower Two, go back to your work stations.” I continued on down.
It especially moved me that even though he was given specific instructions to keep his workers where they were, Fazio acted on his instinct and evacuated his employees. We now know that he did so in the mere minutes before Tower Two was struck. I wanted to let him know how much his heroism meant to me.
Dear Mr. Fazio-
I wanted to write you a thank you letter. I wanted you to know how deeply moved I was by your heroism, how it gave me goosebumps. Your acts evoke the incredible nature of the American spirit. They encourage me, and they remind me. Through your story, those of the people you saved, and others like yourself, I re-connect with the pain and sorrow of September 11th. You prevent 9/11 from fading into obscurity, from becoming some date and label on a timeline. I wanted you to know that and more.
I looked you up. I sought your address, your current place of employment. I needed to know where to send my letter. I didn’t get very far. It took .47 seconds for me to pull up a StoryCorps article from 2013. Twelve years later, they weren’t talking about your acts; they were talking about your sacrifice. Nineteen years later, I realize that I can’t send you my letter. It isn’t fair. I hope somewhere you can see me typing on my keyboard at 1 am. I hope you can see my tears, and know that 19 years later, your life still has meaning, and you’re still cared for by people whose lives you never touched in your lifetime, but who will remember and keep your name alive, long after the world starts forgetting.
Through Mr. Fazio I found the stories of three others. See below: