Ron Gamboa and Dan Brandhorst and their 3-year-old son, David, were among the nearly 3,000 people who died in the 9/11 attacks on Sept. 11, 2001.

Aug, 18 – Sep 15, 2001
For the last 21 years, I have reflected on the highs and lows of four weeks in my life that are forever etched into my memory. I have realized how important it is to put to writing the events of those 28 days. And so – here it goes…

Saturday, August 18, 2001 – My partner Jeff Porter and I were enjoying a typical weekend day in Ogunquit, Maine. To our surprise, we received a call from our friends Dan Brandhorst and Ron Gamboa. They shared with us that they were in Boston and thinking of traveling to Ogunquit the next day for a visit. With them was their 3-year-old boy, David. Naturally, we were excited to see them.

Sunday, August 19, 2001 – Dan, Ron, and David arrived at 1 pm. It was still early in the afternoon and the day was sunny and beautiful, so we decided to walk to Perkins Cove and have lunch at Barnacle Billy’s. Little David stole the show and captivated the owner, Billy Towers. We laughed and broke bread as Dan informed me they could only stay for a few hours. I was not happy that the visit was short, so I invited them to come back to Ogunquit the following month, a request that I regret to this day. While we were eating, we decided the weekend of Sept. 8 was a perfect time for all of us to get together again.

August 20 – September 7, 2001 – Being so close to the Labor Day weekend, I avoided traveling back to my office in Los Angeles to enjoy the late summer weather in Maine. I recall having numerous discussions with Dan about the upcoming visit and asking if he and Ron were okay if we hosted a dinner party for them on Saturday. Dan and Ron loved dinner gatherings and I wanted to make this visit meaningful since it would be the first time that many of our friends would be meeting little David.

We agreed on about 10 people and let Dan and Ron know we invited a few couples with children around David’s age so he would have some new friends to play with.

Friday, September 7, 2001 – Dan and I connected to confirm the weekend plans. They would leave LA for Boston early Saturday morning and by the time he picked up his rental car, he expected to be at our home at around 5 pm.

Saturday, September 8, 2001 – Dan, Ron, and David missed their flight out of LA. Ron was quick to point out that David overslept, but Jeff and I knew better. Ron liked to sleep, and we both believe that he was the one who overslept. In any case, they were diverted to another flight that would arrive in Rhode Island. Their estimated arrival time at our home was now 7 pm. Because they changed their flight, their return trip back to LA was now out of Rhode Island as well. I should point out that many people did not know this fact, and it would later rest on my shoulders to explain this change of plans.

Dan, Ron, and little David arrived a few minutes after 7 pm. The weather in Maine was exceptional and the evening was filled with a lingering summer air. It was so inviting, I decided to have our dinner outside on the patio facing Perkins Cove. In addition to missing their flight, the luggage didn’t arrive with them and when Ron (he had the most amazing sense of humor of anyone I have ever met) shared this with me, I quickly said “You can wear a pair of my pants,” to which he quickly quipped, “Doe-knot-toe” (Ron was by far the one and only person I knew who would pronounce my name the correct way) “I don’t wear pants with elastic bands.” Everyone laughed and we all seemed to know this was a very special evening. Ron had a lot of other funny lines that night that made everyone instantly like him. While I do not recall what we had for dinner, I am able to recall a few specifics of that evening. The first was me making a toast and asking everyone to raise their glass. “Look around at this beautiful evening with new and old friends at the table — let’s toast to it will never get better than this.”

To this day I have no idea why I used those words and have never uttered them again during any dinner outing. There was something magical about the evening, about having Dan, Ron, and David at our home again — and for more than three hours! Perhaps it was watching how these two gay men had grown into such loving parents despite having been told by an LA pediatrician that children are best raised by a mother and a father and not two fathers.

It would be for me and Jeff our last great evening at 385 Shore Road, Ogunquit, Maine. While we certainly had many other events at the home after 9/11, no other event after that tragic day could replicate the joy and laughter of that evening. Perhaps it is why I never fully regained my enjoyment from a home we designed and built.

One of the other memorable events of that evening was serving my mother’s famous banana splits in her signature dishes. It was a big hit, not only for the children, but also for many of the adults. After dessert at around 10:30 pm, little David and I were playing in the kitchen. It is one of the few photographs I have of that evening and one that I treasure to this day. David was in a sailor suit and we were sitting on the stools near the kitchen bar. It was getting late, and David was tired. Ron wanted David to go to bed and the little guy was just not having it. He kept saying to Ron, “just five more minutes…. just five more minutes.” These words would stay with me forever and constantly serve as a reminder about how temporary our lives are and how important five minutes can be for all of us. David was eventually brought to the downstairs bedroom for well-needed sleep while the adults continued the post dinner conversation.

Sunday, September 9, 2001 – Jeff, Dan, Ron, and I stayed up talking past midnight. We discussed many things before our conversation turned to our return trip to LA.

All of us worked in California. Dan’s office was in San Francisco, my office was in Santa Monica, and Ron worked at The Gap store not far from my office. As we were discussing our upcoming week, we were focused on all of us flying out together on Tuesday, Sept. 11. I thought it was good idea, as did Dan. He reminded me that their return ticket was originally from Boston but when they overslept and missed their flight, the entire ticket was rebooked to and from Rhode Island. However, because they were going to stay in Boston on Sunday and Monday night, his preference was to see if he could change it back to Boston. Dan stated he was willing to make this change if I would travel with them and he could get a first-class seat. My only big commitment that week was a speaking engagement on Thursday, so my travel was flexible on Monday and Tuesday. I then said that I would reach out to Ron Sherman, our in-office travel manager, to let him know of my plans to travel with them on Tuesday, Sept. 11. I connected with him later on Sunday.

Back in 2001, in-house travel managers were a rare yet wonderful perk for anyone traveling as often as I did. In essence, Ron was like a personal travel assistant to me and many others in the company who were flying weekly. He and I would often go back and forth many times in a given day, as well as prior to a travel departure on the same day, changing my ticket multiple times and at the last minute. Because of this relationship, there was never a need for me to work directly with any of the airlines.

Since I lived in Ogunquit and worked in Santa Monica, the Boston-LA-Boston itinerary was a frequent travel route for me, most of my leadership team, and other employees based in the Santa Monica office. It was important for me to be in Santa Monica a couple of weeks each month.

There were many times when back-to-back tickets were purchased (back then you could do this), whereby we would book two round trip Boston to LA tickets at the same time, with departure and arrival dates months apart, to take advantage of lower prices and the opportunity to change the ticket without a penalty. Additionally, back in 2001 you could literally walk up to the gate on the day of departure and change your ticket. This was the case for me on many occasions where I would be on the phone frequently with Ron requesting he use his travel skills to reserve multiple airline options for me for the same destination. My request on Sunday, September 9, was not an unusual task for Ron. I reassured Dan and Ron that if they were successful in changing their tickets out of Boston, it would not be a problem for me to travel with them.

I distinctly remember Dan telling me that his specific tickets were acquired through his frequent flyer miles and changing them again could pose a problem. On a side note, in the early morning hours Dan and I got into a lengthy debate about how he felt I did not know how to manage my frequent flyer miles and I was losing out on some great benefits. I remember kidding with him that he was the guru of how to fly with no money and it was something I just did not care to spend time on. It was a funny moment for us.

Dan clearly knew better than me how to manage the frequent flyer program. To this day I have never acquired that skill and perhaps it was because I simply depended on Ron Sherman.

We agreed to check out whether we could change our plans to leave on Sept. 11 together in the first-class cabin. Dan and Ron left for Boston early Sunday morning.

Later in the day on Sept. 9, Dan called me and confirmed that he did indeed reach out to United Airlines and flight 175 was leaving Boston on Tuesday, Sept. 11 at around 8 am. He was told by the ticketing agent that the flight was not full. This surprised me because with so much travel on this specific route, it was getting more challenging to fly first class since the flights were often full. I made nothing more out of the information other than it was unusual.

Ron Sherman confirmed what Dan shared, and since the flight was not full and because we had back-to-back tickets in reserve, Ron told me it would not be a problem to use one of those tickets to fly out on Sept. 11. Since it was Sunday, we agreed to connect on Monday morning to finalize everything. On Sunday, Sept. 9, I was committed to flying with Dan and Ron on Sept. 11.

I would often stay at the Boston Logan Airport Hilton when I had an early morning flight. The drive from Ogunquit was about 90 minutes, and it was always a concern for me that even leaving around 5 am from Ogunquit could create problems for me to arrive at the airport 90 minutes before takeoff. I decided I would stay in Boston on Monday night at the hotel. Ron Sherman confirmed that there were plenty of rooms available at the hotel.

I went to bed that evening around 11:30 pm and felt fine and invigorated after what I believed was a perfect weekend, and I was excited to travel with Dan, Ron and little David.

Monday, September 10, 2001 – I woke up on this day an hour before my normal 6 am due to pain in the front of my mouth. At first I didn’t think much of it. As the morning progressed, the pain escalated, prompting a call to my Boston dentist. I was speaking later that week at a healthcare conference in California and was concerned that a toothache would threaten the speech.

The dentist’s office assistant told me they were booked solid, but recommended that I stop by and they would try to squeeze me in. I was not thrilled with a stand-by appointment, but I also knew flying with a toothache was not optimal.

After finishing my call with the dentist’s office, I packed a few things because my plan was stay overnight in Boston. Since I commuted back and forth from LA to Boston, the hotel I stayed at in Century City stored many of my belongings, as did Ron and Dan, so that I didn’t have to bring too much back and forth.

I left my home around noon. On the drive into Boston, I called Ron Sherman. It was 9 am in California, the time Ron normally arrived at the office. We discussed my plans to fly out the next day, and I wanted to know if anything had changed with UN 175 regarding availability.

Ron confirmed that there were still many seats available. Monday was just as beautiful as the past weekend, and I remember as I was speaking to Ron and driving in the car that it was going to be a wonderful day in Boston for dinner

later that evening. Ron Sherman and I also talked about rooms at the Boston Logan Airport Hilton, and he indicated there were many available.

Ron and I agreed we would touch base after my visit to the dentist. I closed our call by saying it was my plan to travel on Sept. 11 with Dan, Ron and David. He confirmed they were booked on that flight, and I indicated I wanted a seat near them. Because the flight was wide open, Ron let me know my status with United allowed me to book in first class. This was not the case for the Monday night flight which would have me on a wait list for first class.

I arrived at the dentist’s office in the early afternoon of Sept. 10 and waited about 45 minutes before I was examined by Dr. Kirk Bankhead. He was a young dentist and a very caring person. The prognosis was disappointing. My front tooth was far more serious than expected, and the pain was due to the tooth dying — it needed to be extracted. The tooth could not be pulled this day since a temporary tooth needs to be created and there wasn’t enough time to do all of this. A long process for an implant would follow. I was upset at the news that my front tooth would be an implant.

After leaving the dentist office, I started to wonder whether Kirk’s assessment was correct. I thought maybe it made sense for me to seek out a second opinion from a dentist in LA while I was there for the week. At this time, I was running one of the largest health data/outcomes divisions and stressing the value of seeking a second opinion.

I called Ron Gamboa to share the news of what I had just learned, and asked if he knew of an LA dentist. He told me his dentist was great and humorously said “Donato, the only problem is he doesn’t do dentures.” I laughed!

During the conversation, I raised the possibility of all of us traveling out on Monday evening. It was now about 2:30 pm and I believed we had time to re- arrange our plans. I distinctly remember Ron’s response to this recommendation. “Donato, we have already changed our flight to go out together and we are not changing it again. It is also late in the afternoon and David would not be ready to leave today.” I understood his point.

It was clear Ron was not happy with the option of leaving Monday evening. He reminded me during our telephone conversation that little David was excited to have me travel with him. I was, too. Even though we all lived 20 minutes from one another in LA, Dan was commuting to San Francisco and I was commuting from Boston to LA, making it difficult for all of us to get together more often. I was excited to travel with them.

After my conversation with Ron, I decided I would head to Boston Logan Airport while deciding what my next step would be. To this day, I still remember that while driving, playing in my mind were opposing thoughts. Should I fly out Monday night and disappoint Ron, Dan, and David, yet have the opportunity to be in LA on Monday evening and have the entire week to see a dentist? Or should I travel on Sept. 11 and have fun with David on the airplane and enjoy 5+ hours of quality time with Ron and Dan and maybe not see a West Coast dentist for a second opinion. Something was pulling me away from going out on Tuesday — I simply cannot explain it. It was like a spiritual awakening that traveling on Tuesday was not a good idea.

I then reached out to Ron Sherman from our travel office to discuss the two flight options available to me: leave Monday night Sept. 10, or Tuesday morning Sept. 11.

The Tuesday morning flight was still wide open and Monday evening was getting full. Ron and I went back and forth and he suggested I could also make any changes at the airport, something I had done many times in the past. I thought this was a good idea and told him I would call him when I got to the airport.

I also reached out to my friend in LA, Andy Morley. I asked if he knew of any dentists I could see during the week. He did, and we agreed to get together while I was in LA. This prompted me to lean more toward flying out on Monday evening.

I arrived at Boston Logan Airport around 3:15 pm. I debated whether to park my car at the Hilton or the terminal. I decided on the latter and proceeded to the gate. For a split second while walking — for reasons I cannot explain to this day — I again felt an emotional pull between walking back to my car and heading over to the Hilton and leaving the next day or going directly to the gate to fly out on Monday evening. There was a sense that I would be disappointing Ron, Dan, and David, since David was so excited about our plans to travel together.

At the United Airlines gate I inquired about both flight options and was told that first class was available for the Monday 5 pm flight and I could upgrade to that class. I mention first class because if it was not available, this would have been the strongest reason for me to fly out on Sept. 11. With a worsening toothache, I was not interested in flying coach.

I informed Ron Gamboa of my decision to fly out on Monday evening. He was disappointed, but we agreed to meet Tuesday evening for dinner. That was the last time I spoke to him.

After the flight, I arrived at my hotel at 10 pm. Unfortunately, I never confirmed with my partner Jeff, Ron Sherman, or my office staff of my decision to depart on Monday evening, Sept. 10. In hindsight, this was a bad mistake on my part, and a terrible way to learn how important it is to let people know what you are doing.

Tuesday, September 11, 2001 – I woke up in LA around 5:30 am and went to the hotel gym to use the treadmill. I was watching the TV at around 6:15 am and saw that a plane crashed into one of the Twin Towers. I made nothing of it, thinking it was unfortunate that a small plane had crashed.

I returned to my room, showered, and turned on the TV at 7 am. It was 10 am in NY. Chaotic scenes on the news reported that the two airplanes had crashed into the World Trade Center, both were commercial, and one originated out of Boston. Thirty minutes later I learned that both planes had departed from Boston to LA, triggering my fear that Dan, Ron, and David must have been on one of the two planes.

My phone started to blow up with in-coming calls. Jeff was beside himself thinking that I decided to fly out with Dan, Ron, and David, and relieved when I answered the phone. I told him that I called Dan’s cell phone, and it was already full of messages. We hung up so I could call the Boston United Red Carpet Club. Because of my frequent travel, I knew many of the staff members and it was my hope they would be able to tell me if they saw my friends. However, keeping to professional decorum, they could not answer my question. Their silence did serve as an answer and it was at this point, around 11 am EST — September 11 — that I knew my friends perished on United flight 175.

To this day I am not sure how I was able to muster up the strength to do the following. I realized that my office did not know of my whereabouts and while many people were calling my cell phone to find out about me, I was not answering. I was too preoccupied calling the Red-Carpet Club, Dan and Ron’s cell phones, their housekeeper, and many others to be taking incoming calls. I was simply desperate to know whether they were part of this tragedy. Because of my relationship with the Boston Red Carpet Club, I took the liberty to ask “did you see my friends and their 3 year old in the Red Carpet Club this morning”. It was my fervent hope that they might have once again missed their flight as they had the previous Saturday. The Red-Carpet employee on the other hand did not answer me for about 20 seconds and then said “I cannot release that information.” – I responded – your silence just confirmed what happened to my friends. This was the first moment that the deaths of my three friends was in fact confirmed.

I then drove as quickly as I could to my office in Santa Monica and walked in at around 10 am. I can still remember Dr. Robert Brook, husband of one our business partners, leaning on the door of Ron Sherman, both breathing a sigh of relief when they saw me.

I also remember my assistant on the phone with John Doherty when seeing me – saying to John, “He is alive! He was not on that plane.”
By seeing me, it was immediate confirmation to my Protocare colleagues that I was okay. I then shared with them the news of my friends. The atmosphere immediately went from one of joy to one of severe sadness.

I met with my staff and I parked my emotions to the side for a few minutes as I spoke about the tragic events, how precious life is, and how we all need to come together. I gave everyone the option of either staying at work or going home. Many chose the latter. I then left and drove to see my friends in West Hollywood.

As I was approaching the house, I could see several cars in the driveway. I walked in and Brandon Yerre, who Dan referred to as his nephew even though they were not related, was in the kitchen. Someone else was in the kitchen, I do not recall who it was.

I shared with Brandon that Dan, Ron, and David were on the United 175 plane, and he initially challenged me on the facts. I then walked him through all the details. I think his initial disbelief stemmed more from him trying to process how I could already be in LA and they were not, when I mentioned they had been visiting me in Maine just 48 hours ago.

Brandon calmed down once he realized I was telling him exactly what happened. We then hugged and cried, understanding the magnitude of our loss and that I barely escaped the same fate.

We then decided to call the families and share the awful news with them. Our first call was to Dan’s brother David. His initial response, in a very strong manner, was that my version of events were simply incorrect and he had spoken to Dan over the weekend. He was told by Dan they were leaving from Rhode Island. It was at this point I lost it when I had to share the early Sunday morning conversation when we decided to change our plans and fly out of Boston rather than Rhode Island. Reality hit me. In the twisted fate of our lives, because of a toothache, I changed my plans not to fly out with them and it saved my life. Yet they changed their plans thinking we would all fly together and they lost their lives.

I stayed at Dan and Ron’s home until late afternoon. As the news started to spread throughout West Hollywood, people were delivering teddy bears to the front door of their home. To this day I do not know how they connected the dots to know that Dan, Ron, and David were on United flight 175. My only explanation is that the flight was due to arrive in LA at around 10:30 am and Dan and Ron were planning to go to work later in the day. The fact they never showed up was enough for most people within their LA network to conclude the three of them were part of this tragic day.

I left around 5:30 pm to meet a few of my fellow executives who knew I were distraught. I thought it might be helpful to me if we spent some time together. I lasted about 30 minutes at the restaurant and decided to return to my hotel in Century City. While on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills I remember taking a call from my friend Anthony Pacillo and telling him I have experienced one of the worst days of my life. Anthony was a new friend of just three years at that time and provided me a comforting ear thousands of miles away.

Despite many of the challenging events that occurred in my life prior to 9/11 (hearing loss, tragic death of my brother and sister-in-law, grandfather getting shot, etc.), I had never contemplated suicide. By now I was at such a low point, if it had not been for Anthony and Andy Morley (who also helped me on 9/11), I don’t believe I would have survived the day.

The night of 9/11 was the longest and loneliest evening of my life. I realized that LA would never be the same for me. In one quick second, I lost three of my friends and my closest ties to the city. I started to experience survivor’s guilt. I started to blame myself that had I not challenged Dan and Ron on August 19 to return to Ogunquit three weeks later they would all still be alive.

I so much wanted to be with Jeff — to just be with someone who could hold me — and allow me to cry and scream, but there was no one. The television replays were gut-wrenching to watch over and over again. Seeing the second plane hit the South Tower made me sick to my stomach knowing that Dan, Ron, and David were gone and this could have been my fate as well.

News circulated quickly at the hotel, and I will never forget the kindness and outpouring of love and support that the staff provided to me.

Watching TV was too painful, so I went to bed around 1 am but did not sleep that night.

Wednesday, September 12, 2001 – At 5 am, I got out of bed but was not interested in going to the gym. The reality of the last day was hitting me hard.

I was aware that from TV news that air travel was shut down and assumed it would resume sometime later today. I went back to Dan and Ron’s home at 10 am. A mere 17 hours after I left the day before, the teddy bears and flowers now surrounded the entire home.

It was too painful to stay so I called our human resources consultant, Barbara Warren, to vent. She recommended I come to her home in San Diego and stay with her and her husband Brian until air travel resumed. I replied that I would consider it but wanted to first check on the airports reopening. Ron Sherman informed me that air travel was shut down until Friday and he was monitoring the situation. I decided to drive to San Diego to be with Barbara and Brian as I was now concerned about my own mental wellbeing.

Ron Gamboa’s family were in complete shock and with the dynamics of his relationship with Dan now unfolding in public, it was even more intense. They are staunch Catholics and were in denial about Ron and Dan’s

relationship. Fortunately, Ron’s sister was very supportive and helpful throughout the ordeal. But it hit me that I needed some space, a safe environment to start my own mourning.

I arrived in San Diego around 4 pm. Barbara coached me on the importance of documenting everything and thought it would be helpful for me to accept an interview a Maine newspaper had requested. She thought it would help me to process the events of the last few days. I agreed because Maine was the last place Dan, Ron, and David visited, so it made sense.

Thursday, September 13, 2001 – My main focus today was to see how I could get back to Ogunquit and reunite with Jeff and friends. My strength was deteriorating, and I was feeling a deep sense of loneliness and guilt. I reached out to Ron Sherman and he indicated that Friday, Sept. 14, appeared to be the day when air travel would reopen. He called me later in the day and said he scheduled me to fly on Friday from LA to Boston. I informed Ron that I would need a hotel on Thursday night near LAX, so he booked me at the nearby Marriott. I left Brian and Barbara’s home at 4 pm and arrived at my hotel around 6:30.

Friday, September 14, 2001 – I checked out and minutes after I arrived at the airport, I was told the flight would not take off. The plan now was to reopen air travel on Saturday, Sept. 15.

I was so deflated with the optimism of reuniting with Jeff ruined by disappointment. I had checked out of my hotel and now had to stay another night in LA. I informed Ron Sherman and he held a seat for me on the Saturday, Sept. 15, United flight at 8 am. He also rebooked me at the Marriott.

Due to the severe melancholy I was feeling, I never booked a dentist appointment for a second opinion, one of the reasons why I left Boston for LA on Monday evening. I was too distraught and uninterested to see anyone and not even sure I could have found a dentist available if I were up to it. This week, all world order seemed out of place.
I checked back into the hotel and stayed low all day.

Saturday, September 15, 2001 – I arrived at the airport around 6:30 am to the good news that the airspace was open and our flight would be leaving on time at 9 am. There was something strange about this day of travel. You could sense that everyone was nervous to get on a plane. Security was tight, and everyone was looking over their shoulders.
For reasons still unknown to me today, LA’s United Airlines personnel were informed of what I had experienced and the Red Carpet Room at LAX was showing me unbelievable love, compassion, and support. They informed other passengers of my situation and people I had never met were coming up to me and giving me a hug. It was yet another tear-filled morning.

I remember distinctly boarding this flight with extra precaution. I was in first class and a few seats behind me were a few passengers that were from the Middle East and in traditional dress. Everyone around me were looking at them with suspicious eyes and I remember saying to myself we will never be the same.

As the plane went down the runway and we were airborne, everyone clapped with an appreciation that this part of our isolation was ending.

The 5-hour flight seemed like it lasted for a lifetime. Perhaps due to the exhaustion of the week, the anxiety of seeing Jeff, or the reality that three of our friends had now been part of a tragic page in history, whatever it was I was not sure if my life would be tainted with anger and guilt, or would I be able to find a way forward.

When our flight arrived, everyone in the cabin clapped their hands with joy. As we approached the gate and the doors opened, I noticed a United Airlines Red Carpet employee approaching me. She escorted me off the plane to an area where there were hundreds of people who I did not know. Still, they clapped their hands in applause when they saw me. What struck me about this was that they did not care whether I was Democratic or Republican, straight or gay, black or white. What mattered to them most was that I was an American who had just endured an extraordinarily painful experience and unspeakable loss. I hugged many of these people not knowing who they were. I was then reunited with Jeff and the healing process began.

We drove back to Ogunquit and my only request was to not see anyone else that evening. Those who know me know that I get my strength and energy from people. Not this time. I needed to be alone with Jeff and our two dogs, Prego and Scuzi. The dogs could sense that something was not right with me. I spent that evening thinking about how just exactly one week ago we were all toasting to “It will never get any better than this” and sadly, it never has.

Weeks and months after arriving home from LA on September 15th