Where were you? That’s the question greeting a lot of us today and stories are being shared in remembrance and honor of the memory of those who died on September 11, 2001.
My story? Having recently moved to the Washington D.C. metro area, I was working in Alexandria then, about to sit in a meeting, yawning, wishing for another cuppa. Someone rushed in and told us to go to the board room where we saw the smoke coming from the first tower in NYC. I wasn’t really grasping that I was watching live tv, when the second tower was hit. OMG. My thoughts flew to my dad who worked in the World Trade Towers and while retired still consulted there. Where was he? He had already survived the car bombing of the towers a few years previously and I had humorously made him a “survival kit” of candy, magazines and other “pass the time” items he had complained he missed while waiting to exit the building. He had climbed down almost 80 flights and went straight home, only to wonder why folks stared at him – he had soot on his face from the smoke of the bomb/fire.
I was lucky, while it took hours to hear, I found he was at home, safe and sound. Others weren’t and while we talked in shock and support, we heard of the Pentagon and rushed to the upstairs windows of the office to see smoke was billowing. The company’s evacuation plan was put into effect and what was originally shock turned to fear. For days, weeks, we saw nothing but F16 thundering overhead and made sure water, food and clothes were in the car filled to the brim with gas. Stories of friends or friends of friends in the Towers or in the Pentagon surfaced and sorrow intermingled with fear – and later thankfulness and anger as we closed ranks as a country and appreciated others support or wondered why us.
What is your story, your memory?
As a person employed in my own family business I was at home and my family communications network alerted me to tune in to see what was happening. That was 7 years ago and while I knew no person in World Trade Center that day what it taught me was to be thankful I have a family that does communicate with each other – it may only be by email and occasional phone but I know they are there since they do not live next door. Now, on 9-11 I am even more thankful while reflecting on those that are no longer living since then.
Now 9-11 has new meaning for me. At 7:30AM my first grandchild was born and that communications network filled me in on the details, I heard little Audrey cry in background from her mama’s hospital room. Going forward my message is to commemorate those who are precious to you on this day, both living and no longer living, as I will now with especially double meaning forward.
Each story is impactful and shows how important the events of 9-11 were/are to each of us. I also remember thinking with sadness how much our world changed in one day. Thanks so much for sharing.
as a person self-employed in the Washington ‘burbs’ I am rarely in downtown DC during morning rush hour. I had a ‘networking’ group mtg at a place two blocks from the white house. we broke up just at 9:40 – having looked at the clock as I walked out. ambled up to Farragut West and hopped on an orange line train. As we reached Rossyln the conductor said – there was an incident at the pentagon. I thought – well – some other idiot has stepped off the platform; grateful I was on the orange line. as the orange line came out of the ground in Ballston; you could see a stream of police cars – going towards the city – Arlington county, FFX county, state police. I knew something was wrong – but remained clueless. Once the awful truth was known; I returned to my home office. Typically under the flight path of Dulles airport – it was remarkably quiet. Until the fighter jets started to scream over head every 30 minutes or so. Another day that will live in infamy…And as the daughter of a first responder (a policeman) – I felt the pain of those who lost someone that was simply trying to help rescue others.
I think we will all remember what we were doing on that day–like our parents remember when Martin Luther King and JFK were tragically assassinated. I was doing something so mundane–going to the dentist a block from the White House. I emerged from the basement level office around 10 a.m to rumor and uncertainty. “A plane was flown into the White House!” someone said. It was impossible to make a cellphone call. I rushed uptown to pick up my infant and toddler from grandma’s–narrowly missing what was complete gridlock downtown. I listened to the the radio, horrified at what I was hearing. When I reached a high point near Gallaudet Univ I could see the smoke from the Pentagon which made it all too real. We didn’t know if there would be more attacks or how many people had been killed.
It’s odd the things you remember. I still remember how annoyed I was that my mother-in-law insisted on going to an optometrist’s appt. and after dropping her off, what should have been a 20 min. ride home took 2 hours as everyone began to stream out of the city in fear. It was also the only time that my infant–who hated riding in the car–did not cry or make a sound as we sat for hours in traffic.
My employer at the time was headquartered in NYC and I was so worried about my colleagues. It was such a sad, tragic day. For so many people, life has never been the same.
I was at the work when they hit the Pentagon, all I could think about was my sister’s being inside. I can honestly say I was truely blessed, neither one of my sister’s were hurt they survived without a scratch. God was truely with them on that day!
There are thousands of horrific stories as a result of 9/11. Mine is a universal one – one of disbelief and mourning. The movers had come in on 9/10 to empty our RI house for renovations. My husband had returned to Tampa the week before, and I slept on the floor in a totally empty house that night, intending to fly back to Florida the next day. On the morning of 9/11, just before I left for the airport, my son called with the news of the Towers, and told me that he doubted I would get a flight out. Unable to get my mind around the idea that this was anything other than a tragic accident, I drove the hour to the airport, only to find it surrounded by National Guard troops, waving me away. This was no accident.
My family lived with terrorism, both in Argentina and Peru. In Lima we had 24-hour armed guards, on the roof and around the perimeters. We had to stagger our comings and goings, we had to check in with a security check post every few minutes by walkie talkie to give them our location in code, and we had armed chase cars back and front when we went out. Despite the risks, we loved our time in Lima, but when we came home to the States on vacation, there was that special warm feeling of security and well-being. We all let out a sigh as the plane touched down on US soil.
I mourn the loss of that feeling, I mourn the fact that there are generations born after 9/11 who will never experience that feeling, and I mourn the loss of thousands of innocent lives, in NYC, DC, and around the world, snuffed out because of religious fundamentalism.
When I’m asked whether I was personally affected by 9/11. I always answer “yes”. Thankfully I didn’t lose family or friends on that day, but I lost that special feeling of “home”.