A walk in the park was all Jane Tedder of Lawrence had on her mind last Sept. 11 in New York City.

“It was such a beautiful day,” Tedder said.

She didn’t know that morning would change her life forever.

At the time, Tedder worked with Security Benefit Group of Topeka and was in New York for the National Association of Business Economics annual conference in the World Trade Center Marriott Hotel, which was immediately adjacent to the twin towers.

Tedder and her sister, Roberta Krause of Seattle, were staying on the hotel’s 16th floor and had met the Friday before the conference for a long weekend of walking tours of the city.

The day dawned so beautifully that Tedder decided to play hooky from the conference’s morning business meeting and extend her weekend a bit with a walk with Krause.

The choice was crucial.

“Had I not so chose,” Tedder said, “we would have been separated when the disaster occurred.”

Dressed for their 10K hike, Tedder was brushing her teeth when a tremendous shudder rocked the building.

Alarms blared

“Oh, Jane, it’s an earthquake!” Krause yelled. “We’re going to die.”

“We’re not going to die,” Tedder said, “We’re going to get out of here.”

Alarms blared.

Hotel staff shouted, “Get out! Go down the stairs!”

Leaving everything behind, Tedder opened the door to the hallway where the sisters entered into uncertainty with the growing stream of people.

Near the eighth floor, strong fumes filled the stairwell. “That’s jet fuel we’re smelling,” a man said from the crowd.

Tedder assumed a plane with mechanical troubles had hit the building.

Emerging on the mezzanine level, a heavy rain of broken glass and debris fell outside.

Hotel staff in the lobby ushered everyone from the building where police waved the crowd across the street toward the World Financial Center.

The sisters held hands as they ran so as not to be separated.

As they stopped running, Tedder and Krause turned and saw clouds of smoke and fire roiling from the north tower’s upper floors.

“God help the people! God help the people!” Krause said.

Plummeting bodies

The crowd gasped. Tedder saw what seemed unreal: the plummeting bodies of those who chose death by falling instead of death by fire.

She turned Krause away from the sight.

A faint sound caught Tedder’s attention. An engine’s whine grew closer and louder, screaming in acceleration. Bursting into sight, a jet slammed into the second tower.

As flames erupted from the south tower, Tedder realized the buildings were being attacked.

With debris and ash rolling down on them, the sisters ran south with the crowd toward Battery Park.

Having walked the route already, Tedder knew there was a pay phone on the park’s edge.

She rang her office’s toll-free number and let them know she and Krause were safe. She also asked them to contact their families.

Tedder and Krause then settled alongside several people sitting on a low, brick wall, all quietly watching the churning flames and smoke.

Tower collapses

As the women watched, they could feel the ground begin to tremble.

The south tower began to collapse.

“A gigantic cloud of smoke, pulverized concrete, dust and other debris poured across the landscape toward us at an incredible speed,” Tedder said.

Police shouting, “Run, run, run,” waved everyone southward.

As the cloud overtook them all, Krause’s breakfast napkin, dampened and torn in half, was all the sisters had to cover their noses and mouths.

At the docks by the island’s south end, restaurant workers and vendors ripped open crate after crate of bottled water, giving it to all in need there in the great cloud.

Everyone was covered in ash and many were crying “as ashes stuck to the streams of tears on their cheeks,” Tedder said.

Another rumble

The wind gave momentary relief from the cloud.

And then the rumble came. Tedder heard, but could not see, the collapse of the north tower. With it, the great cloud thickened and grew.

Police told everyone to get close to the fences by the water where there would be more breezes.

Tedder and Krause stood overlooking a bronze figure of a soldier reaching down to rescue a fallen friend from the water below.

But theirs would be a rescue by sea.

At first, a single ferry pulled up to a dock. It carried away a few of the throng.

Soon, another ferry arrived, then all types of watercraft, public and private, began approaching the island.

Tedder could see that if the sisters would brave the dense ash cloud for a short distance, they would find themselves at a less-crowded spot from which to embark.

The women “ran through the thick, heavy cloud,” Tedder said, covering as much of their faces as possible.

Their daring was rewarded with a short line waiting to board a ferry.

“With hearts still pounding, Krause and I found a seat on the ferry and finally collapsed in tears, in each others’ arms,” Tedder said.

Instant refugees

Tedder and Krause were among the very fortunate who were able to escape at the onset of trouble.

But the sisters’ journey had just begun.

Arriving at the Jersey City ferry docks in mid-afternoon, they were covered in pulverized concrete, asbestos and other debris. They were safe, but without identification, fresh clothes, or money.

Refugees for the next three days, they were the recipients of the kindnesses and goodwill of strangers in Hoboken at a Senior Center serving as a makeshift shelter as well as at Sts. Peter and Paul Parish, where they were told that they were the first women ever to spend the night in the rectory.

More generosity came from the staff at a Manhattan Holiday Inn and ticket agents at home as well as from airport personnel at LaGuardia Airport.

An article and photograph in the Hoboken Reporter proved the most helpful serving as identification in securing both lodging and airline tickets, which were paid for through Tedder’s memorized American Express card number and the help of a very trusting American Express agent.

Heading home

That Thursday, Krause would return to Seattle.

It would be Friday before Tedder returned to Lawrence.

Tedder’s daughter-in-law, Cindi Tedder, and her then-5-year-old grandson, Austin, were waiting for her.

“If they hadn’t been there to grab hold of and hug  and shed tears, I probably would have kissed the Kansas ground,” Tedder said. “I’ve never loved Kansas as much as I did in that moment.”

In the months ahead, Tedder would often be aided by the comfort of family and friends. The Plymouth Congregational Church Choir, of which she is a member, continues to be a special source of support.

In her return to everyday life, Tedder found she had changed.

Before Sept. 11, Tedder decided to take advantage of her company’s retirement package at year-end 2001. Her plan had been to find another job and do something else for a while.

In the days after the attacks, Tedder realized that it was time to start giving back.

“Having been through that experience and having experienced the generousness and the kindness and the helpfulness of other people, experienced it first-hand from the accepting side rather than the giving side,” Tedder said, she would take the retirement package and not seek another job. “I’ve elected to do volunteer work and to spend my time doing that. I’m working with several local groups. I absolutely love it.”

Tedder’s volunteer activities include Audio Reader, Health Care Access, Meals-on-Wheels, Lawrence Own Your Own Art, the Plymouth Congregational Church Choir and the church’s endowment and trustees committee.

For Jane Tedder, that was the best outcome of the whole event.