Read an Excerpt

Chapter 1

Unlocking Resilience

RingRingRing!

I groaned, rolled over, and stuffed my head under the pillow. My machine would pick up the call. The sun wasn’t even up yet, so that meant it was way too early for me to be up. I needed every minute of sleep I could get.

Silly East Coasters, I thought. It’s been three years!

After completing college in my native state of New Jersey, I picked up and moved west. I spent a few years living in beautiful Southern Oregon before transplanting to the San Francisco Bay Area, living in Marin County. But I understood the deal: right now, three time zones east of me, my friends and family would be having their morning coffee, thinking they had a nice chunk of time to call a buddy. Problem was that if the buddy was me, they’d wake me up because of the time difference. This was pretty common on the weekends, but today was a weekday! I hoped if my machine picked up enough calls that maybe everyone would figure it out and start calling me after work. Either that or I’d have to go straight Jersey on them, throwing down the gauntlet and saying, “No one is allowed to call before lunch!”

After five rings, my machine clicked on. Remember, this was when phones still had a cable attached to the wall and there was another mysterious box that recorded your messages for you. I had the volume down, but I knew the person on the other end was hearing the smooth sound of a certain Daniel Fusco breaking down for them the exact info I wanted them to leave me so that I could call them back. Finally, back to sleep.

Except the phone rang again. My machine picked it up again. Why is someone bugging me so much? What’s so important?

I was in my early twenties, working my first real job (in an office building with a watercooler and copier room and everything), so getting out of bed on a Tuesday before my alarm went off at seven-thirty was a definite no-go.

When the phone rang for the fourth time, I reached over and turned up the volume on the answering machine. “Pick up the phone, Daniel! Pick up the phone! C’mon, pick up, pick up!”

Yikes. That did not sound good. I reached past the machine and grabbed the handset. “What?” I grunted, rolling back onto my pillows.

“Where’s Chris?” asked the voice. It was my buddy Rob from Jersey. Chris was a mutual friend.

“Chris?” I repeated.

“Yes, where’s Chris?” Now Rob was yelling. “Chris works in the Towers, right?”

What in the world is he talking about? “Bro, it’s like six in the morning!” I protested. “How the heck am I supposed to know where Chris is? I don’t even know who he’s working for these days. What’s going on?”

“Wait, you don’t—oh man, you’re three hours behind. You’re not gonna believe this. Go turn on a television right now. Any channel. There’s a huge thing going on with the Twin Towers, and I think Chris works there.”

Click.

I sat up, stunned. Nothing was making sense. And to make matters worse, I didn’t have a TV.

So I found the next best thing and cranked up the radio on my alarm clock. The news anchors were talking about some sort of accident at the Twin Towers and an explosion. I didn’t catch the whole story, but just the tone of their voices was chilling. I jumped into sweats, pulled on a hoodie and some flip-flops, and raced out the door to my car. I had to get to a television and find out more. Who did I know who worked in the Towers? I still had tons of friends and family back East, including a bunch who worked in or around Manhattan, but how many were at the Towers?

I left my street and turned onto the main road. Does my buddy Chris work there? I don’t know.

There was a strip mall up ahead. I think my brother-in-law might work at a law firm with an office in the Twin Towers.

I drove around and around. Nothing was open.

Finally, I found a chain diner, open for breakfast. I seriously don’t know where anyone I know works!

My stomach was clenching and unclenching as I parked and ran inside the diner.

And I watched in horror as I saw the Twin Towers coming down.

How are we going to make it through this? I wondered.

* * *

If you are one of the majority of Americans today who can remember 9/11, I’m sure you could tell me exactly where you were that day.

As I watched the news on TV and talked with family and friends that day, I learned my brother-in-law did work in the Towers. But he wasn’t there that morning. His was one of the many miraculous stories we heard later. Because he’d worked late the night before, his boss told him to come in a bit later the next day. But his firm lost dozens of people. My buddy Chris wasn’t there that morning, thank God.

Still, even without knowing anyone who lost their life there, I knew in my gut that I’d never forget those attacks. And the same way we remember 9/11, others remember exactly when they heard about the space shuttle Challenger exploding or the assassination of John F. Kennedy or the day that will live in infamy, the attack on Pearl Harbor. There’s just something about certain catastrophic events that sticks in our minds and refuses to leave.

And it’s in the face of these events that we wonder how people are going to make it through it all.