Sept. 11 changed the world as we knew it. A by-product of the atrocities is the engendering questions of who we are as a nation and who we are, personally, as human beings. It created a new thermometer that measures how mercurial is our inner strength, how high is our resilience to pain, what apex is possible in an environment that isn’t secure like it used to be.
Our son was a vice president of Cantor Fitzgerald working on the 105th floor of Tower One, WTC. Compassionate, always curious, handsome and successful – between the plane hitting the building and its immolation from jet fuel – Christian managed to call his wife and three young children to say goodbye. As I write this, I can feel myself sinking into that abyss of sadness that I have never known before, but have frequently experienced since that dreadful day. But I won’t fall there today, because I have the armament of anger to pull me up, up and away.
Bob and I decided to move downtown in July into a floor of a four story historic home. We were thrilled by its inner arches: the space, light and remnants of Charlotte Amalie circa 1790. On Sept. 6 an intruder came in and took my handbag, Bob’s glasses, my watch and the portable phone and casing. We filed a police report. Two weeks later, my car was sideswiped by someone careening along Back Street – in the wrong direction – in the middle of the night. We filed a police report. Ten days ago leaving for work, we went to get into my car and his van, respectively, and found the windows totally bashed in. We filed a police report.
At this point, Bob visited police headquarters to ask if there was a program to take the streets of downtown back from the thugs. He asked for greater police presence, car patrolling and foot patrolmen in the downtown area during the night. He asked if anyone worked an 11 p.m. to 7 a.m. shift. After an hour and a half, he had no answers and was in receipt of polite disinterest.
Last Saturday, Nov. 3, our 8-week-old Dalmatian puppy, whom we purchased three weeks ago, got out of the house and ran down the outside steps and through the gate to follow Bob to work. It was 7 a.m. and I called to him to come back. In the two minutes it took me to get the keys to the gate, he was gone. Eyewitnesses saw two men stop their car, pick him up and take him away.
Bob and I have posted a reward for his return. No questions asked. But, we are asking the good people of St. Thomas to keep an eye out for him. If someone tries to sell you this purebred…call us first. If you see him anywhere….call us. After all, in these terrible times, he made us laugh. We did not file a police report.
Please contact Bob at 690-2964 or at Coral World at 775-1555 ext. 249.
Ruth Butler
St. Thomas, VI
