Ayala Cohen: An eyewitness account from the Chanukah Wonderland

Posted Wednesday, December 31, 2008 2:25 am

In My View

By Ayala Cohen

Issue of Jan. 2, 2009 / 6 Teves 5769

It is three days since the tragic event of Thursday afternoon, and I am still trying to cope with the scenes that keep playing out in my mind.

I had big plans for that day. The kids' vacation from school actually coincided with mine from work, an unusual occurrence, so I was looking forward to enjoying the Chag with Betzalel, 6, Leah, 5, and Meira, 11 months. My husband Binyamin, the magician, was working, of course, because Chanukah is among his busiest times of the year, but that wasn't going to keep me from showing the kids a good time.

The plan was to visit Cedarhurst Park, then head over to Chabad's Chanukah Wonderland just in time for the Children's Concert advertised on their flyer. It was too cold to stay in the park for long, so around 2:30 we packed into the car headed for the warmth of Chabad on Broadway in Woodmere.

After parking in the lot behind Pizza Pious, I walked the kids over to the Wonderland storefront at 1052 Broadway. The first thing I noticed was that the place was crowded with mothers, fathers and children enjoying the activities but was not so crowded as to be oppressive. Chabad had laid out the room in such a thoughtful way that every activity had its own unique station, from the curtained-off show area to the Lego menorah construction site, and this minimized crowding in any particular spot.

After picking out craft projects, the kids and I headed to the craft tables to settle down for some coloring fun. I took out my camera and snapped a couple of pictures. As I put the camera away under the stroller, I noticed that Meira was waking from her nap. She seemed content so I left her strapped in, and scanned the crowd for familiar faces.

It was pretty noisy, but above the din I suddenly heard a sound that caused me to turn in the direction of the windows facing Broadway. As I looked for the source of the sound I saw a big car crashing into the store from the street. At the time it looked larger than an SUV, taking on mythical proportions in my mind. The scene was so surreal that for a brief moment I remember thinking, "how nice of Chabad to hire a Hollywood-style stunt show to entertain the kids." (The mind does funny things when under extreme stress.)

After smashing through glass and the outer wall, the car accelerated across the room, bulldozing everything in its path before coming to a stop 30 feet inside, on top of a moonwalk-type inflatable ride, which deflated very quickly.

There was a moment of eerie silence as people digested what had just happened. Then there were screams of panic as parents rushed to find their children. There were a few minutes of pandemonium during which I grabbed my children and yelled to them over the noise, "Don't move, you are OK, just don't move." I was afraid that they would get crushed in the stampede of panicking parents and children rushing around.

The car had cut a path across the room less than three feet from where I sat frozen in my seat next to Leah and across from Betzalel. It all happened so fast that even if I had the presence of mind to move myself, and the children, out of harm's way I wouldn't have had enough time. We were so close to the danger that I still find it hard to believe that none of the glass or flying debris hit my kids or me. The baby's stroller was parked especially close to where the car had zoomed across the room.

My daughter, Leah, starting crying as she noticed that there was a woman lying on the floor bleeding and a child lying on the other side of the room also bleeding. I didn't have time to cry because my mind was racing, trying to decide what to do. I noted that my children were not hurt but I was trying to figure out if we were still in harm's way, if I should take the kids and run out, or if I should try to do something to help those that were injured. I felt helpless and torn.

I heard someone saying that Hatzalah was called and not to panic, so I decided that the best course of action was to wait until the professionals arrived to help out. I have no medical training, and the sight of blood was starting to make me feel nauseous and faint, so I didn't think that I could help anyone considering that I could barely stand up myself.

While we all waited for Hatzalah to arrive, I heard a man yelling for help to lift the car off of people that were trapped under the car. Since I knew that he was calling for help from strong men, I averted my eyes from the scene and instructed my children to do the same, but I saw that there were over 20 men struggling to lift the massive car off the ground. Then another man started shoving the craft tables out of the way to make space for the injured people to be evacuated. He was literally throwing the tables out of the way and I remember thinking "What a pity! Chabad has put so much effort into setting up this wonderful room full of activities for the kids and now it's all ruined." (Again, I was not thinking very rationally at the moment.)

When Hatzalah arrived, they instructed everyone who was not injured to leave immediately. I helped my children into their coats (Leah insisted that we take our craft projects which were still intact; I guess kids need to find some normalcy at a time of extreme duress) and I walked unsteadily, steering my children and the baby's stroller over the broken glass and scattered Lego to walk out the door and out of Hatzalah's way.

We passed between several parked ambulances as we crossed Broadway. I don't know how I managed to strap the kids into their boosters and put the baby in her infant seat, then fold up the stroller, pack it into the trunk and start up the car, all while my heart was hammering away in my chest and my body was shaking like a leaf.

As I steered the car out of the parking lot, in the opposite direction of the scene, I started talking to Hashem. I said "Hashem, thank you for sparing me and my children from harm. Please take care of those people who were injured and make sure that they are all right."

Halfway home, I had to pull over to the side of the road and call my husband. He was on a break between performances and I told him we were alright. He had not yet heard anything about the accident but as I explained to him what had happened, he reassured me that he was waiting at home for me and that I should drive carefully.

Some thoughts that occurred to me as I was driving home: Was it a terrorist attack? The car had not slowed down at all when it crashed through the wall; quite the opposite, it had actually accelerated and picked up speed as it drove through the room. What if the car's trunk had been full of explosives? Why had I just sat there with my children and waited until Hatzalah shooed us out of the building?

Betzalel, my six-year-old, started to ask me "why" questions as I drove and I couldn't really answer him, except to say "I don't know." I posited that maybe the driver was drunk or was having a heart attack and left it at that.

When I got home, I told Binyamin to call both his parents and my parents because they knew that I had plans to take the kids to the Chanukah Wonderland in Woodmere, and I didn't want them to panic if they caught the news on the radio or on TV.

Then I grabbed a siddur and started davening; first Mincha, then perek after perek of Tehillim. I was feeling nauseous, dizzy, trembling and my heart was racing. I thought that I must have been having a panic attack or early onset of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Binyamin had to leave to go to his next magic show, so when my parents offered to come from Brooklyn, I accepted their offer. I felt that I was in no condition to be alone with the kids that evening.

I'm still traumatized by what I saw Thursday afternoon and probably will be for some time to come. I'm praying that everyone who was hurt will have a complete recovery –– not just a physical recovery, but also an emotional one.

My children have been acting a bit more fearful since the accident, but mostly they have demonstrated the remarkable ability of children to rebound from adversity. I'm glad that I was able to tell them the next day that it was an accident and that it doesn't usually happen that cars crash into buildings. I was also able to tell them that everyone in the building has survived and will recover (please G-d). May Hashem bring about a speedy recovery to all those who were injured, and may He protect us from harm now and in the future.

Ayala Cohen is Media Research Manager at Johnson & Johnson, wife to magician Binyamin (Ben) Cohen and mother of three.