Where Were You?

Today marks the 12th anniversary of the September 11th terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center, then Pentagon and then one hijacked flight that crashed in Pennsylvania.  One of the questions frequently asked after the event happened and also the first couple anniversaries of the attacks was, "Where were you when the twin towers fell?"  Today's post will be my reflection on that day.

It seemed like a normal school day.  I was in 11th grade (one year before high school graduation).  It was mid-morning when someone from the school office came to our classroom (of about 20-25 students) and said, "You'd better turn on the television for the news."  The teacher immediately turned on the classroom's television, which was programmed to only have the news channel (to prevent inappropriate channels from being seen).  I think at that time one plan was in the 1st WTC building.  I can't remember if both planes had crashed.  We were all pretty quiet in the classroom as we watched the news coverage of the event, which at this point was still filled with confusion as to who was responsible and why it happened, but when the second plane flew into the buildings it was probably beginning to be apparent that this was an act of terrorism.  We had occasional outbursts like, "Why would someone do this?" and "How could we not know about this soon enough to prevent?"

Eventually, we saw the buildings collapse.  I remember watching in horror and murmuring, "We just witnessed hundreds of people dying."  It was a sickening feeling.  The saddest thing was hearing about people jumping from the burning buildings to their death several stories below.  And to think that from the time the plane was hijacked to the time the plan crashed those people were terrified the whole time.

That night, my parents made it a point to have a meal as a family around the dinner table.  Once my dad had taken a job out of town we often didn't eat all 5 of us together, it would be that my brother, sister and I would eat around 5 pm and then my dad and mom would eat together when he got home around 6 pm.  But that night we all ate together at 6 pm so that we could talk about what had happened.  My sister would have been in 8th grade and my brother in 6th.

Throughout the next few days the death tolls grew.  Not just for those who perished in the planes or the buildings that collapsed, but for the firefighters, medics, police, etc. who perished in trying to save people.

Fortunately, I did not lose anyone in the terrorist attacks.  But that doesn't mean that I was without grief.  I was scared, angry and confused as to why someone could hate so much that they would kill so many.  I remember being terrified for months afterward whenever I heard a plane flying overhead.  I told myself I would never fly on a plane (which I have several times since then and have enjoyed every flight).  I remember being disgusted when hearing about store owners in America not allowing people who are or look of Middle Eastern descent into their stores because they "must be" terrorists, since I believe that you can't base an entire culture based on a sub-groups choices for violence.

I saw on the 60 Minutes program a news segment about a museum they are building right on Ground Zero to commemorate those who lost their lives.  It looks like it will be so beautiful.  I wish I could go to see it but cannot afford to travel much.

So that is where I was at on 9/11.  And today I sit, 12 years older, and think about what that event has meant to me and meant to this country.  And I pray for those still grieving and for a more peaceful world.