9/11 - Tell me your stories (Part 2)
CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS POST..
nephele's story:
Mine are pretty much all here. [Gioia's note - Nephele's blog about her life as a resident of NYC that day is definitely worth reading!] Did I mention I knew people there? I did. Everyone I knew personally or well got out, but a few people I knew by association, or in the past, did not: a co-worker's father-in-law, a former co-worker's husband, a guy I went to middle school and high school with... Probably many more that I'm not aware of simply because we weren't in touch.
tasyfa's story:
It's not something I like to talk about; it makes my words stutter and stumble over themselves, and more frequently than even broken words it brings tears. Yes, still, and yes, even though I didn't personally know anyone involved. I will say that I was working downtown Toronto, and I was at a new employee orientation seminar that day - I'd started that job less than two months prior - and my building was just outside the evacuation radius around the CN Tower. And I took the subway home, and wrote this poem, and almost missed my stop for my head being elsewhere.
September 11
My life became a film today
Of blood and death and fear
Of steel ripping through steel
And wing-shorn glass
Any second now
Arnie’s gonna say, “I’ll be back”
And we’ll all laugh hysterically
Knowing that it couldn’t really be happening
Not here; not to us
And yet…
jandjsalmon's story:
Interesting. Every June 6th is very special to me - keep in mind that I'm a Historian and my minor focused quite a bit on WWII. I get upset when people around me don't show their appreciation on D-Day and am moved to tears every year.
Perhaps it's because I'm Canadian (though that sounds trite) and maybe it's because I was not as affected but now today was just another day to me. I remember being shocked when it happened. We woke up to the radio saying that one tower had fallen and we ran to CNN to see what was going on. It was shocking and scary and I wondered what kind of world I was bringing my first child into (he was born Oct 1st 2001) - but I'm not as affected now. But--- I am sending you lots of huggles to help you feel better tonight! *huggles*
laurenc21's story:
At the time, I was a Junior in college and my morning routine was dropping Jason off at his boss' house and then driving to school for my 8:30am class. I had just dropped Jason off when my mom called and told me that something crashed into the World Trade Center and I basically needed to see it NOW.
I turned around and drove back to Jason's boss' house, went inside to watch. I was there when the first tower fell, which was horrifying. I had to then go to school, where I was driving and flipping between radio stations, listening to the coverage.
I watched the rest of events in the small cafe at Cal State Fullerton before my class. I remember it was packed and people were just watching in silence. When I had to get to my class, we were in session for most of the class and at about 10 minutes before 10am a man walked into our classroom. Our professor gave him a "hang on a sec hand" and he waited for about 5 seconds before interrupting with, "I'm sorry but we're closing down campus and everyone needs to leave NOW."
Scary.
I left and went home... I had to go to work that night at the bakery because apparently, people wanted cake? I'll never get that.
martinigrl's story:
I was a senior in high school. I hadn’t wanted to go that day, much like the rest, but I had to drive my sister and somehow I got roped into showing up. I was beyond ready for college by this point.
I just remember it being the end of third period when it happened, right after I'd woken up from a typical 3rd period nap during film class (I was more than ready to graduate by then) -- there was some announcement that these towers had collapsed by our less than exciting principal and I don't really remember that much else except a sort of surreal excitement that we might just get out of school early.
That didn't happen.
Instead we spent the rest of the day acting like nothing had happened -- they didn't want us watching the news and some of our more empathetic teachers tried to talk about it -- we spent weeks talking about it, not doing work. There were other teachers who tried to make us work, ignore what was happening 75 miles or so away.
I think I blamed Bush, even at the time (and definitely found myself rolling my eyes at his press conference), saying that he had to have known something and if Gore had just won than there was a better shot this wouldn’t have happened. I know that a lot of people said that Colin Powell’s place in the cabinet made them feel safer -- too bad he was pushed aside.
I remember a lot of people resenting those teachers for that and I joined the chorus, mostly because given the option, emoting was better than being forced to do work that I found incredibly dull. Now, though, I know that if I were a teacher I probably would have done the same. Funny how that works out.
There was a girl who ran out of my fourth period class, one of the classes where all we did was discuss it and ignore the paper that I had sort of not done but was due that day (something, I’ll add, I was very relieved about -- as were my two friends who had both also failed to do it the night before). She was crying and freaking out, having just learned the flight numbers -- her parents were supposed to be one one of the ones out of Logan to LA -- somehow they’d switched at the last minute, missed their flight due to some unknown circumstance. I think that was probably the most striking moment of the day.
After that we left, went home and I found myself sitting on the couch watching CNN, like I did a lot, and it struck me that this was like the time I watched the constant coverage of Columbine and of Elian Gonzales -- three distinctly different stories that had nothing to do with one another, really and yet they all felt incredibly surreal.
As for what it feels like now -- it really is just another day for me. I wrote a little about it in my LJ.
rhetoretician's story:
11 September 2001 was the day before my son's second birthday. My in-laws had just paid to have a swingset put in our backyard, and I was fretting about how safe it was while my 7-year-old went bonkers over it.
I'd just gotten a new job within the University (a wonderful job that I was allowed to keep for less than three years) that required me to walk a bit from the parking lot to my office. It was a gorgeous day and I was thinking about how lucky I was to be in that new position. As I rounded the corner near the Episcopal Church, a man (I remember him as the proprietor of a news stand, but there isn't a news stand on that corner) asked me whether I'd heard that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. I whistled and muttered something about letting idiots get pilots' licenses; I was thinking about the small plane that hit the Empire State Building during the 1930s.
I got to my office, booted up the computer, and got onto one of the news sites. Everett, my boss and my friend, was already there and he looked more worried than I felt. Not too long after that, my mother phoned to tell me that a second plane had hit the other tower.
That was the moment I realized what was going on. I walked into Everett's office and told him. Now I've never had a day of military training or experience in my life, but Everett worked his way up from Private to Captain in the Infantry, and when I say he looked "grim" I don't think it conveys the sight. He immediately switched gears and began thinking about the students' safety; a few minutes later he started talking about their need for reassurance and comfort. He told me to notify the faculty that there were likely to be a lot of kids needing absences today, and not to hassle them.
The rest of the day is a blur. We listened to the news, we waited to see what would happen next. I do have a distinct memory of hearing that there were crowds of Palestinians in the West Bank cheering about the attacks, and getting very angry. I have another memory of suddenly recalling that my friend John worked in the World Trade Center, and that he'd been out of the office when it was attacked the first time. (It took him a few days to contact us, but it turned out that he'd retired -- at forty -- a few months previously and no longer worked in the WTC.)
I have two other clear memories from the next few days. One is of playing with the kids on the new swingset and noticing how very quiet it was without the planes (we live on one of the major approach routes to the airport). The other is of watching my daughter build a tower out of Legos, hit it with a toy airplane, and then scold the toy, "Bad airplane!"
lapaglia44's story:
I was at home that day. I can't remember if I had worked the night before or was just being lazy and sleeping in. but my roommate at the time was up getting ready to leave for work. I think her mom had called and told her what was going on. Well, probably not really what was happening but that a plane had hit the towers. She yelled up to me about it in case I wanted to see what was going on. I was like, "yeah, ok" and I’m pretty sure I rolled over and went back to sleep for a bit. When I finally got up and turned on the tv I think the second tower had already been hit and they were pretty sure by then that it was a terrorist attack. After that I was pretty glued to the tv. So I saw the towers coming down. I don't think I realized that people were trapped in the tower until after the reports came in about how many ended up dying.
I went to my church that evening and sat in on a prayer service. I don't know if I prayed because I don't think I knew what to say. I guess I was there mostly because I didn't really know what to do and yet I had to do something.
Later on in the week the city held a rally where they honored ems workers. Well, the fire department anyway. I remember being kinda angry about that. No not kinda, I was really angry. (Oh I suppose I should mention that I’m a paramedic.) I was angry because the city never saw fit to honor ems workers before then. And they haven't since. at the time I was thinking something along the lines of, "I’m just doing my job. I don't need a frick'n parade."
But today, I didn't realize it was September 11th until I heard Alan Jackson’s song about that day on the radio. I was just parking my car at home when it came on. I sat in my car to listen to the song. And I almost started to cry. After the song was over I went inside and had my quiet time. I read psalm 1. It speaks about how God is watching over us and how the wicked will parish. It brought me comfort to know that God is watching over us even when bad things happen. Do I understand why the happen? no, but I know that ultimately He is working things for our good. it also made me feel good to know that, one day those, bastards who have still eluded justice will face the ultimate justice.
So I hate to say it but, unless something comes up to remind me I probably will not recall the events of that day. Even though it has forever changed this world. I mean you say the words "September 11th" or "9-1-1" or "9-11" and people automatically know what you mean. I know it's sad, but it's true. So I suppose I’ve moved on. Well pretty much. Like I said I came close to crying about it today.
nephele's story:
Mine are pretty much all here. [Gioia's note - Nephele's blog about her life as a resident of NYC that day is definitely worth reading!] Did I mention I knew people there? I did. Everyone I knew personally or well got out, but a few people I knew by association, or in the past, did not: a co-worker's father-in-law, a former co-worker's husband, a guy I went to middle school and high school with... Probably many more that I'm not aware of simply because we weren't in touch.
tasyfa's story:
It's not something I like to talk about; it makes my words stutter and stumble over themselves, and more frequently than even broken words it brings tears. Yes, still, and yes, even though I didn't personally know anyone involved. I will say that I was working downtown Toronto, and I was at a new employee orientation seminar that day - I'd started that job less than two months prior - and my building was just outside the evacuation radius around the CN Tower. And I took the subway home, and wrote this poem, and almost missed my stop for my head being elsewhere.
September 11
My life became a film today
Of blood and death and fear
Of steel ripping through steel
And wing-shorn glass
Any second now
Arnie’s gonna say, “I’ll be back”
And we’ll all laugh hysterically
Knowing that it couldn’t really be happening
Not here; not to us
And yet…
jandjsalmon's story:
Interesting. Every June 6th is very special to me - keep in mind that I'm a Historian and my minor focused quite a bit on WWII. I get upset when people around me don't show their appreciation on D-Day and am moved to tears every year.
Perhaps it's because I'm Canadian (though that sounds trite) and maybe it's because I was not as affected but now today was just another day to me. I remember being shocked when it happened. We woke up to the radio saying that one tower had fallen and we ran to CNN to see what was going on. It was shocking and scary and I wondered what kind of world I was bringing my first child into (he was born Oct 1st 2001) - but I'm not as affected now. But--- I am sending you lots of huggles to help you feel better tonight! *huggles*
laurenc21's story:
At the time, I was a Junior in college and my morning routine was dropping Jason off at his boss' house and then driving to school for my 8:30am class. I had just dropped Jason off when my mom called and told me that something crashed into the World Trade Center and I basically needed to see it NOW.
I turned around and drove back to Jason's boss' house, went inside to watch. I was there when the first tower fell, which was horrifying. I had to then go to school, where I was driving and flipping between radio stations, listening to the coverage.
I watched the rest of events in the small cafe at Cal State Fullerton before my class. I remember it was packed and people were just watching in silence. When I had to get to my class, we were in session for most of the class and at about 10 minutes before 10am a man walked into our classroom. Our professor gave him a "hang on a sec hand" and he waited for about 5 seconds before interrupting with, "I'm sorry but we're closing down campus and everyone needs to leave NOW."
Scary.
I left and went home... I had to go to work that night at the bakery because apparently, people wanted cake? I'll never get that.
martinigrl's story:
I was a senior in high school. I hadn’t wanted to go that day, much like the rest, but I had to drive my sister and somehow I got roped into showing up. I was beyond ready for college by this point.
I just remember it being the end of third period when it happened, right after I'd woken up from a typical 3rd period nap during film class (I was more than ready to graduate by then) -- there was some announcement that these towers had collapsed by our less than exciting principal and I don't really remember that much else except a sort of surreal excitement that we might just get out of school early.
That didn't happen.
Instead we spent the rest of the day acting like nothing had happened -- they didn't want us watching the news and some of our more empathetic teachers tried to talk about it -- we spent weeks talking about it, not doing work. There were other teachers who tried to make us work, ignore what was happening 75 miles or so away.
I think I blamed Bush, even at the time (and definitely found myself rolling my eyes at his press conference), saying that he had to have known something and if Gore had just won than there was a better shot this wouldn’t have happened. I know that a lot of people said that Colin Powell’s place in the cabinet made them feel safer -- too bad he was pushed aside.
I remember a lot of people resenting those teachers for that and I joined the chorus, mostly because given the option, emoting was better than being forced to do work that I found incredibly dull. Now, though, I know that if I were a teacher I probably would have done the same. Funny how that works out.
There was a girl who ran out of my fourth period class, one of the classes where all we did was discuss it and ignore the paper that I had sort of not done but was due that day (something, I’ll add, I was very relieved about -- as were my two friends who had both also failed to do it the night before). She was crying and freaking out, having just learned the flight numbers -- her parents were supposed to be one one of the ones out of Logan to LA -- somehow they’d switched at the last minute, missed their flight due to some unknown circumstance. I think that was probably the most striking moment of the day.
After that we left, went home and I found myself sitting on the couch watching CNN, like I did a lot, and it struck me that this was like the time I watched the constant coverage of Columbine and of Elian Gonzales -- three distinctly different stories that had nothing to do with one another, really and yet they all felt incredibly surreal.
As for what it feels like now -- it really is just another day for me. I wrote a little about it in my LJ.
rhetoretician's story:
11 September 2001 was the day before my son's second birthday. My in-laws had just paid to have a swingset put in our backyard, and I was fretting about how safe it was while my 7-year-old went bonkers over it.
I'd just gotten a new job within the University (a wonderful job that I was allowed to keep for less than three years) that required me to walk a bit from the parking lot to my office. It was a gorgeous day and I was thinking about how lucky I was to be in that new position. As I rounded the corner near the Episcopal Church, a man (I remember him as the proprietor of a news stand, but there isn't a news stand on that corner) asked me whether I'd heard that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. I whistled and muttered something about letting idiots get pilots' licenses; I was thinking about the small plane that hit the Empire State Building during the 1930s.
I got to my office, booted up the computer, and got onto one of the news sites. Everett, my boss and my friend, was already there and he looked more worried than I felt. Not too long after that, my mother phoned to tell me that a second plane had hit the other tower.
That was the moment I realized what was going on. I walked into Everett's office and told him. Now I've never had a day of military training or experience in my life, but Everett worked his way up from Private to Captain in the Infantry, and when I say he looked "grim" I don't think it conveys the sight. He immediately switched gears and began thinking about the students' safety; a few minutes later he started talking about their need for reassurance and comfort. He told me to notify the faculty that there were likely to be a lot of kids needing absences today, and not to hassle them.
The rest of the day is a blur. We listened to the news, we waited to see what would happen next. I do have a distinct memory of hearing that there were crowds of Palestinians in the West Bank cheering about the attacks, and getting very angry. I have another memory of suddenly recalling that my friend John worked in the World Trade Center, and that he'd been out of the office when it was attacked the first time. (It took him a few days to contact us, but it turned out that he'd retired -- at forty -- a few months previously and no longer worked in the WTC.)
I have two other clear memories from the next few days. One is of playing with the kids on the new swingset and noticing how very quiet it was without the planes (we live on one of the major approach routes to the airport). The other is of watching my daughter build a tower out of Legos, hit it with a toy airplane, and then scold the toy, "Bad airplane!"
lapaglia44's story:
I was at home that day. I can't remember if I had worked the night before or was just being lazy and sleeping in. but my roommate at the time was up getting ready to leave for work. I think her mom had called and told her what was going on. Well, probably not really what was happening but that a plane had hit the towers. She yelled up to me about it in case I wanted to see what was going on. I was like, "yeah, ok" and I’m pretty sure I rolled over and went back to sleep for a bit. When I finally got up and turned on the tv I think the second tower had already been hit and they were pretty sure by then that it was a terrorist attack. After that I was pretty glued to the tv. So I saw the towers coming down. I don't think I realized that people were trapped in the tower until after the reports came in about how many ended up dying.
I went to my church that evening and sat in on a prayer service. I don't know if I prayed because I don't think I knew what to say. I guess I was there mostly because I didn't really know what to do and yet I had to do something.
Later on in the week the city held a rally where they honored ems workers. Well, the fire department anyway. I remember being kinda angry about that. No not kinda, I was really angry. (Oh I suppose I should mention that I’m a paramedic.) I was angry because the city never saw fit to honor ems workers before then. And they haven't since. at the time I was thinking something along the lines of, "I’m just doing my job. I don't need a frick'n parade."
But today, I didn't realize it was September 11th until I heard Alan Jackson’s song about that day on the radio. I was just parking my car at home when it came on. I sat in my car to listen to the song. And I almost started to cry. After the song was over I went inside and had my quiet time. I read psalm 1. It speaks about how God is watching over us and how the wicked will parish. It brought me comfort to know that God is watching over us even when bad things happen. Do I understand why the happen? no, but I know that ultimately He is working things for our good. it also made me feel good to know that, one day those, bastards who have still eluded justice will face the ultimate justice.
So I hate to say it but, unless something comes up to remind me I probably will not recall the events of that day. Even though it has forever changed this world. I mean you say the words "September 11th" or "9-1-1" or "9-11" and people automatically know what you mean. I know it's sad, but it's true. So I suppose I’ve moved on. Well pretty much. Like I said I came close to crying about it today.