I have very similar memories to others whose posts I have seen this morning. Everyone observing and remembering where they were and what they were doing nine years ago this morning.
Like others, I recall weather very like today's. Calm, sunny, crisp, gorgeous NJ Fall day.
Had heard a quick report on the car radio, after dropping our daughter off to school, about the first plane accident at WTC. Turned on the home TV in the 8:00 hour to find reports about it. Watched Charlie Gibson live – and saw the images in real time - as the second tower got hit.
Went numb for a few moments, followed by massive adrenaline rush. A sense of fear and shock unlike anything ever experienced before.
The questions began to form. Was this the start of something bigger and even scarier? Is this how Pearl Harbor felt? Is this how it feels to the Brits when a bomb goes off in London? The husband of a work colleague works in the WTC. Is he there today? What must his family be feeling? Did we know anyone else who works in that neighborhood, or who might have been flying today? Should I go get my family and gather at home? Should we be leaving the area?
Is there any family in the Northeast who wasn’t thinking exactly the same kinds of things in that hour?
Years earlier I had sat to dinner with a middle-aged Brit at her home in the English countryside about an hour south of London. The memory of that evening rushed in. Innocently, I’d mentioned that my ancestors had probably been Northern Irish and how proud we were of our Irish heritage in the States. Her expression turned serious, her eyes dropped, and storm clouds gathered. After a brief pause, she spit venom - her hatred of the Irish because of IRA bombings. Oops, hadn’t meant to step in it like that. She had expressed hope that the Americans would someday see what it was like on their own soil. Wish granted. Wondered if she would be feeling satisfied or saddened today?
Got my husband on the phone at work and made him check the Internet. He saw a little video, before all the phone and computer lines jammed up.
Called my brother in Arizona to tell him what was happening. Soon news of collapsing buildings and Shanksville began to emerge. Military craft began flying in and out of our neighborhood airport. Could not stop ourselves from spending the rest of the day glued to the TV and radio.
Slept fitfully that night, continuing to hear military aircraft movement a few blocks away, and argued with myself to stay calm and rational. In reality, the attacks of September 11th, 2001 had not hit us personally, and probably wouldn't aside from the obvious economic ramifications. But it was hard not to feel overwhelmed anyway on behalf of all those directly impacted and feel afraid of what might come next.
In the weeks that would follow, we would learn that our work colleague and her children had lost their loved one in one of the Towers. He rests now - under a black gravestone - in Princeton, NJ.
Today I find myself wondering how they are coping as time marches on, especially the two sons, and how they will choose to spend this day. I hope they have joy and peace today, even in the face of such an enormous loss and all the media coverage reminders. These folks have more reason to hate than anyone. September 11th took away from them something precious that could never ever be replaced. Still, I hope they are able to move beyond hate and into a better place.
I like the following article...The Healers of 9-11. http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/09/opinion/09kristof.html?_r=1
© 2009 Patricia Fletcher.
