That morning I was in my office on the 78th floor of the North Tower of the World Trade Center when the first plane exploded into the building above us.
I’ve been blind since birth and my incredible guide dog Roselle led me down 1,463 steps to safety, just minutes before the tower collapsed. I was tremendously grateful to have survived, but questions nagged at my soul.
How could a tragedy of this magnitude happen? Why did Roselle and I survive and thousands of others didn’t?
Only a few days after the attacks, I threw myself back into my work as a regional sales manager for Quantum ATL, a company that provides computer backup systems for businesses. I worked from home and from rented offices in New Jersey. I was also asked by TV stations and newspapers to share my story.
Initially I was hesitant. I walked down a bunch of stairs—that wasn’t heroic. My wife, Karen, said, “The country needs healing, Michael. And so do you. Tell people about what you and Roselle went through. Give them hope.”
I did a few interviews. The more I told my story, the more I realized there was also value in talking about some of the things I learned growing up blind—things that went a long way toward helping me survive that day.
Like the importance of trust and teamwork. The trust I had in God and Roselle, and the teamwork I had with her and the people who were with us all 1,463 steps down.
I began to wonder if I was meant to do something other than work in the computer business. How can I best help people? Guide me, Lord. I’m listening.
In December, 2001, I got a call from Bob Phillips, the CEO of Guide Dogs for the Blind—the nonprofit I’d been getting guide dogs from for 38 years, ever since I was matched with my first dog, Squire, at age 14. “Michael, will you serve as the spokesperson for our San Rafael, California, campus?” Bob asked.
A spokesperson for the organization that had changed my life? And at the San Rafael campus? That’s where Roselle and Squire had gone to school! It was Harvard for guide dogs! Karen and I were both native Californians and had always dreamed of moving back.
But taking the position would mean giving up a comfortable salary. We spent a week in prayer. The more we prayed, the more it was clear: We had changed. I had changed. Money wasn’t as important. I called Bob. “I’d be honored to take the job,” I said.
Working for Guide Dogs was a dream come true. I was bringing people the same confidence, hope and freedom I’d felt having a guide dog. And I got to spend time with Kay and Ted Stern, who had raised Roselle. She was one of the first puppies they’d trained to be service dogs.
“Hearing what you went through gave us validation,” Kay said. “We’re going to continue working with service dogs.”
More folks wanted to know how Roselle and I stayed calm that terrifying day and how we worked together. I remembered what Karen had said not long after September 11, that our story gives people hope. If they want to hear it, why not share it?
So, after six and a half years of working for Guide Dogs, I resigned to tell Roselle’s and my story at schools, corporations and churches.
Roselle passed away this year at age 13. I miss her often, but keep busy with our other dog, our cat and my new guide dog, a yellow Lab named Africa.
I may never know the answers to the questions that plagued me after 9/11. But I know if we lean on God and each other, we will be guided…to a better, brighter future.
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