9/11/2001: Do You Remember?

It was a bright September morning, a Tuesday. I didn't need to be at work until 9:00. Getting ready, I had ABC news on the TV, not paying much attention. At some point, I sat down and watched for a while.




The oddest thing happened: The people reporting the news suddenly looked puzzled, as if they weren't hearing correctly through their earphones. Furrowed brows. Surprise. It looks, they said, as if someone ran a plane into one of the Twin Towers in New York City. The show broadcasts from New York and has the skyline visible behind them. What about that? How strange. How could that happen, the pilot must have had a heart attack or something.

How bad is the damage? They wondered, wanting as all newspeople do, to have all the details immediately. Where I sat, I wondered what happened but wasn't particularly concerned. Bummer. But that's in New York, not anywhere near me.




What did get my attention was the serious and concerned looks on their faces: It didn't seem to be just a story about a random plane crash. I sensed more danger than that. As they tried to fill time with talk, waiting for particulars, there was another explosion and a lot of black smoke visible behind them. A lot of it. Big plumes.




At this point, the news anchors glanced at one another in shock. There's something really unsettling when a TV news anchor is shocked.


And one of them said,


"That was not an accident. Someone just deliberately flew into that buillding. And if that's true, then I suspect the first plane was no accident, either." The tape of it was played over and over, as we watched in stunned silence as that second jet turned, dipped down, and almost seemed to fly straight through the tower. On purpose.

And just like that, our history changed.




Airports were shut down for fear of more attacks. How many more planes would do that?  There was one headed for the Pentagon. One headed for the White House. Two more headed who knows where. We considered ourselves under attack. What do we do now? If we're going to be attacked, I want to be at home, not at work. I want my children with me. But what do I tell them?




In just a moment, our lives were changed. Before, it was the threat of a bomb being dropped on us or maybe chemical warfare. Occasionally, not that often, we'd think: What if?




It never occurred to us that people would hijack a regular commercial airline in order to drive it into a regular building on a regular, early Fall, sunny day. That there were people who were willing to kill themselves along with a huge number of others, both in the planes and in the buildings.




Heroes emerged: People who refused to let the hijackers complete their plans, even though everyone in the planes died anyway. People who made every effort to save others. While victims struggled to get down the stairs of these buildings, time and again firefighters climbed back up to rescue everyone they could, losing their lives in the process.

The quiet of the next few days was eerie as we reeled from the horror of it: thousands of people dead. Papers with faces and descriptions begging for information, pleading for a loved one to be all right, were stapled everywhere in New York City. Hundreds upon hundreds of them. And slowly, we realized they would never be found-they were simply gone-changing the lives of those who loved them forever. The papers became tattered and damaged and washed out by rain as surely as the tears that were shed in realization.

Heart-wrenching stories of bright and shining lives destroyed, children who would not remember their parents, parents who lost children, families interrupted and broken. Hopeful people trying to make a start in New York City, others who had worked in those buildings for years; people just making a trip to California, the trusting faces of kids on their first plane rides...a terrible waste for all of us. So much was lost on that day, along with our naive opinion that no one would dare come here and attack us.




So what did we do? We started anew. The wreckage, almost unbelievably massive, was cleared. A new memorial was placed at the site of the Twin Towers that has walls of water, appropriately, and a new structure defiantly even taller than the old ones. Survivors are still healing, families still grieving, victims gone forever. It's been 16 years, and yet only the blink of an eye.

But in the days after, when out among people in stores and going on with their lives, there was a quiet, sad, sense of unity. We didn't need to talk about it, we knew the sadness and disappointment we were all feeling. Smiles came easier. Everyone seemed to say, "We're OK. We'll be OK." That strength you can only feel when shared with others in the same situation.


What can we learn from the attacks of 9/11? Anger? Tolerance? Suspicion? Hope? Being prepared? ?




Maybe we start from home. We start by reminding ourselves what really matters to us. Then we add a ring, our neighbors: how are they doing? Do they need help with anything? Add another ring, our community: What's going on that's good and bad? How can we get involved? And another ring: how can we change what we don't like in our country, and how do we support each other? There's strength in numbers. We can be stronger together than divided. And we'll never forget that day.