Never Forget

I remember driving to work that Tuesday morning. I was running late, and when I was about a mile from the office I heard the announcement on the radio that a plane had crashed into the WTC. My first thought was that it was some sort of fluke, like when that private plane hit the Empire State building. As I was walking in the door, the second tower was hit. No one was at the front desk, no one was in their office. Every employee was gathered around the television in the kitchen, watching in disbelief.

I remember calling my mom and telling her she needed to turn the TV on. She had just gotten out of the shower and hadn't heard anything yet. I couldn't even tell her what was happening - there were no words. I just said "Turn it on" and hung up.

I remember the rumors, and the awful waiting of the next hour or two: reports that the White House had been hit, reports that there was a car bomb at the Pentagon. Reports that there could be as many as ten, twenty more planes in the sky that would be used as weapons. Advice that people avoid gathering in large groups, and that we all collect emergency rations "just in case." A rumor that one of the planes had taken off from Dallas. My daddy was working at the airport at that time, and was also Air Force reserve, so I called him to see if he had any information and to make sure everything was alright out there.


I remember wondering what sort of horrible people could have planned this. I knew Osama bin Laden had done a lot of bad things, but this...this was beyond evil. I was so angry to know that somewhere in the world there were people who were happy, celebrating this horrific event. I knew it would change our world, but I had no idea how much would change, and how every one of us would feel a little less safe, and think of some people just a little differently - as either heroes or monsters - after this day.

I remember the announcement that every single plane in the air was being order to land immediately, wherever they were, and that any plane that didn't risked being shot down. This sent a lot of people to the phones to check on relatives that were traveling or friends in the airline industry. That's one of my most vivid memories of that day - people constantly on the phone, reaching out to friends and family to try to make some collective sense out of the senseless.

I remember that about the time the first tower collapsed, people started leaving to pick up their kids from school. The news alternated between footage of NY, Washington, and local (we didn't find out about the fourth plane for awhile, as I remember it), and the local news was saying that schools would release any kids whose parents came for them. I can't imagine being a kid, or a teacher, on that day. School is all about routine and normalcy, and September 11,2001 was the most non-normal day I have ever lived through.

I remember that not long after the second tower collapsed, a couple came in to the office to choose some tile, and were irritated that there was no one to help them. Our receptionist asked them "Haven't you seen the news? Planes hit the World Trade Center and they have fallen, killing thousands of people." And the wife said "That? That happened hours ago! People need to get over it. We have a life, you know!" I just thought how sad and disgusting that reaction was, and how people like that were what made other countries hate Americans.

I remember seeing Ashleigh Banfield, a local reporter who had made it to one of the national news stations, huddled in a stairwell only a block or two from Ground Zero (as they were already calling it), and she was absolutely covered in ash - even her eyelashes were coated. Everything was grey, and she was coughing to the point that she could barely speak. It looked like she was reporting from a war zone. I guess in a way, she was.

I remember going to the doctor that afternoon, where the TV was on, and how when I got home all we did for hours was sit and watch looped footage and listen to talking heads who had no more idea what was happening than we did. I think at that point, we were still hoping and expecting that they would find at least some survivors in the rubble of the collapsed buildings. I had never been to New York, never seen the size of those buildings, and didn't think about the effects of burning jet fuel coupled with the hundreds of tons of concrete. I think it was days before I gave up hope that they would pull any more bodies, living or dead, from that pile.


I remember wondering what I would have done, if I'd worked in one of the towers and survived the first strike. Would I have been brave enough to help rescue coworkers? Would I have bolted for the stairs, or tried to stay behind to find out what was happening, or gather my things? Would I have tried to make it down alive, or had that horrible realization that I was trapped, and gone out the window, as some did?

I remember what a long time it was before I could see a plane flying over downtown, or a college campus or a sports stadium, and not feeling a twinge of worry.

And one of the things I remember most was the way people changed. For weeks, people were kinder and gentler to neighbors, friends and strangers. They spoke more softly. They thought of others. They made donations and attended memorials and bought red-white-and-blue everything. I wonder where that spirit went? Have people forgotten? Is it unimportant now that the economy is bad and the weather is unpredictable and the biggest legacy of 9/11 is the security line at the airport? How many people agree with my sister, who told me the other day "I wish we could skip Sept. 11. I just don't feel like rehashing the whole thing."

9/11 changed me. I have a more global view of US policies. I am both more and less tolerant of differences now; more-so because I realize that extremists (of any kind) do not define a nation or a religion, but less because I feel that you don't have to believe the same way I do, but that does not give you the right to kill me or attack my country because of that disagreement. Some days I am less than proud to be an American, but I still cry at the national anthem. And I still think that September 11 is an important day. We NEED to "rehash the whole thing." Because we should Never Forget.

If you have time, please leave your 9/11 memories in the comments section. I have a scrapbook that I put together ten years ago, and I would like to update it with stories from other people in other places.