Remembering September 11th
I'm writing this for posterity sake. It's the 8th anniversary of the twin tower attacks in New York, but of course most everyone just remembers it as 9/11. It's still unreal, how a day like any other shifted the whole world, and shook so many Americans to their core.
For me, I was a sophomore in High School sitting in art class in the third floor of Roosevelt High School. The first thing that alerted us that anything was wrong was a kid, I can't remember his name, or honestly what he even looked like, but he was flipping out. He kept checking his cell phone, and blatantly calling some unknown person over and over again.
This was also before everyone carried a cell phone- they weren't a novelty but were not quite to the point of everyone having one, like it is nothing more than carrying a wallet with you. In any case his dad was in one of the towers for a meeting. He was chastised by the teacher for doing so quite severely and the details get hazy, but I just remember during the second half of the 40 or 45 min class the principal got on the loud speaker and said that one of the Twin towers had been hit by an airplane. It was shocking news, but I really didn't know why it was worth disrupting class for.
From there shock and mass disorientation took over the school. The normal noise and bussel of high school was replaced by droves walking almost like robots, and groups huddling quickly talking to one and other.
Some of course cried, I saw one of my teachers break down in the middle of class and told people that we could be excused if we wanted. They also set up a TV in the library and let whom ever wanted to go watch the coverage go.
At this point in time,I still didn't get it. The word terrorism was not even in the majority of our minds, our vocabularies and certainly wasn't floating in the air in the slightest bit. I think I slightly remember knowing we'd been attacked, and yet it still wasn't more then a buzz, a sad, tragic energy, but nothing more.
It's funny how even then, logically knowing that this was an important event, a major turning point, how little of it concretely stuck.
It certainly did shake me though, and as the passing days came few anywhere could really concentrate. One of my best friends at the time refused to take part in practicing show choir because he thought it was such a sad event, and that to dance and sing was in bad taste, and disrespectful.
The thing I remember more than the day itself (although I do have an eerie recall of seeing the second plane hit, and I can not certainly either way remember if it was live or not, as I have seen that image played over again probably hundreds of times)is the aftermath.
As a side note, my family had a house fire on September 12th, and so we had to be relocated while my house was refurbished. When I got to the new house, there was no cable, and only the basic three networks, plus fox. There was no regular programing only 9-11 coverage. Everyone, everywhere talked at nauseum about the events of 9/11. The hunt for survivors, the speculation as to who did it- replaying the scences of fire and smoke. Every update from the fact that there was so much hazardess material at 'ground zero', to every press conference was televised non-stop. It was horrifying to watch and let sink in, but yet you couldn't take your eyes off it.
In the week that came, everyone played their roles but everything was overshaddowed by the one massive event. I remember so vividly having my football coach at the time sit everyone down at the end of one of the practices and look up at the sky. He asked us if we saw anything, and we said no, not really understanding why he was asking. He then said that in our lives, we will probably never see this again. There were no contrails crisscrossing the sky. All air traffic was grounded. Thats the first time, I think it truely hit me.
Everyone got back to their normal lives, and the other major events like ex-President Bush calling up all to a fevor pitch, the Patriot Act all happened, and I was virtually unaware. By then it was back to classes, girls, outside school activities as normal. It was like a dream that happened somewhere else.
That is until the summer after, when my church group went on tour. We went to New York-on the agenda was seeing ground zero. I thought this to be cool, and moving. I had no idea. Nervousness came over me for no real reason as we approached it(at least thats what I thought at the time). There was a long, winding line waiting to see. At this point I was more starstruck by the big buildings extending to the skies, and so many people like ants marching to and fro. In any case we passed a small graveyard and an eerie feeling shot up my spine. We had arrived at ground zero.
There was a wooden plank way that you walked up, and it was littered with pictures, teddy bears, flowers -the all too familiar markings of a memorial. I did not look in depth at the handwritten notes, or the pictures of lost loved one, and yet it still haunts me to think about. I can't imagine what those things would have meant had I took it in, had those things been more than just glossed over symbols of loss. I knew they were too real, to unphathomably heart crushing even then though.
There was still nothing to see, just head and bodies slowly moving. As we approached the hole left after the the debris was removed things got calmer, quieter. No one dared utter a word. Then the group and I got to the top of the walkway. It was like a small deck, and although shuffling along it was like no one was moving. Time was just so unreal, and yet there was still nothing left to see but the utter nakedness, the very real and deep sense of a void could be felt. The lack of sight was what struck me, and although the very loud chaotic noise of was logically clear in the background there was an effect of utter silence there. It was like a slideshow of that 9/11 came back, while alternating between what it meant personally and for the country. It was almost like an out of body experience, but at the same time made you feel this deep weight. All it was, was a hole, a deep, large hole but it so perfectly told of what was lost that day.
We were maybe up looking at the ground zero for 2-3 mins max. But everyone in my church choir went away silent, wrestling with their thoughts and feelings. It transformed us back to the way we were the days following 9/11- zombie like and fully on autopilot. It was like visiting the grave site of someone. You knew it was profound, so unforgettable and yet you didn't realize or believe they were really gone. it was just an idea until that point.
I sometimes wish I had a better recall of 9/11. I often think I am lucky to not know that burden, that weight-To be sheltered from it as much as I was. It's hard looking back to separate what has become crystallized by over-exposure and controversy from what those events looked like back then.
For me, I was a sophomore in High School sitting in art class in the third floor of Roosevelt High School. The first thing that alerted us that anything was wrong was a kid, I can't remember his name, or honestly what he even looked like, but he was flipping out. He kept checking his cell phone, and blatantly calling some unknown person over and over again.
This was also before everyone carried a cell phone- they weren't a novelty but were not quite to the point of everyone having one, like it is nothing more than carrying a wallet with you. In any case his dad was in one of the towers for a meeting. He was chastised by the teacher for doing so quite severely and the details get hazy, but I just remember during the second half of the 40 or 45 min class the principal got on the loud speaker and said that one of the Twin towers had been hit by an airplane. It was shocking news, but I really didn't know why it was worth disrupting class for.
From there shock and mass disorientation took over the school. The normal noise and bussel of high school was replaced by droves walking almost like robots, and groups huddling quickly talking to one and other.
Some of course cried, I saw one of my teachers break down in the middle of class and told people that we could be excused if we wanted. They also set up a TV in the library and let whom ever wanted to go watch the coverage go.
At this point in time,I still didn't get it. The word terrorism was not even in the majority of our minds, our vocabularies and certainly wasn't floating in the air in the slightest bit. I think I slightly remember knowing we'd been attacked, and yet it still wasn't more then a buzz, a sad, tragic energy, but nothing more.
It's funny how even then, logically knowing that this was an important event, a major turning point, how little of it concretely stuck.
It certainly did shake me though, and as the passing days came few anywhere could really concentrate. One of my best friends at the time refused to take part in practicing show choir because he thought it was such a sad event, and that to dance and sing was in bad taste, and disrespectful.
The thing I remember more than the day itself (although I do have an eerie recall of seeing the second plane hit, and I can not certainly either way remember if it was live or not, as I have seen that image played over again probably hundreds of times)is the aftermath.
As a side note, my family had a house fire on September 12th, and so we had to be relocated while my house was refurbished. When I got to the new house, there was no cable, and only the basic three networks, plus fox. There was no regular programing only 9-11 coverage. Everyone, everywhere talked at nauseum about the events of 9/11. The hunt for survivors, the speculation as to who did it- replaying the scences of fire and smoke. Every update from the fact that there was so much hazardess material at 'ground zero', to every press conference was televised non-stop. It was horrifying to watch and let sink in, but yet you couldn't take your eyes off it.
In the week that came, everyone played their roles but everything was overshaddowed by the one massive event. I remember so vividly having my football coach at the time sit everyone down at the end of one of the practices and look up at the sky. He asked us if we saw anything, and we said no, not really understanding why he was asking. He then said that in our lives, we will probably never see this again. There were no contrails crisscrossing the sky. All air traffic was grounded. Thats the first time, I think it truely hit me.
Everyone got back to their normal lives, and the other major events like ex-President Bush calling up all to a fevor pitch, the Patriot Act all happened, and I was virtually unaware. By then it was back to classes, girls, outside school activities as normal. It was like a dream that happened somewhere else.
That is until the summer after, when my church group went on tour. We went to New York-on the agenda was seeing ground zero. I thought this to be cool, and moving. I had no idea. Nervousness came over me for no real reason as we approached it(at least thats what I thought at the time). There was a long, winding line waiting to see. At this point I was more starstruck by the big buildings extending to the skies, and so many people like ants marching to and fro. In any case we passed a small graveyard and an eerie feeling shot up my spine. We had arrived at ground zero.
There was a wooden plank way that you walked up, and it was littered with pictures, teddy bears, flowers -the all too familiar markings of a memorial. I did not look in depth at the handwritten notes, or the pictures of lost loved one, and yet it still haunts me to think about. I can't imagine what those things would have meant had I took it in, had those things been more than just glossed over symbols of loss. I knew they were too real, to unphathomably heart crushing even then though.
There was still nothing to see, just head and bodies slowly moving. As we approached the hole left after the the debris was removed things got calmer, quieter. No one dared utter a word. Then the group and I got to the top of the walkway. It was like a small deck, and although shuffling along it was like no one was moving. Time was just so unreal, and yet there was still nothing left to see but the utter nakedness, the very real and deep sense of a void could be felt. The lack of sight was what struck me, and although the very loud chaotic noise of was logically clear in the background there was an effect of utter silence there. It was like a slideshow of that 9/11 came back, while alternating between what it meant personally and for the country. It was almost like an out of body experience, but at the same time made you feel this deep weight. All it was, was a hole, a deep, large hole but it so perfectly told of what was lost that day.
We were maybe up looking at the ground zero for 2-3 mins max. But everyone in my church choir went away silent, wrestling with their thoughts and feelings. It transformed us back to the way we were the days following 9/11- zombie like and fully on autopilot. It was like visiting the grave site of someone. You knew it was profound, so unforgettable and yet you didn't realize or believe they were really gone. it was just an idea until that point.
I sometimes wish I had a better recall of 9/11. I often think I am lucky to not know that burden, that weight-To be sheltered from it as much as I was. It's hard looking back to separate what has become crystallized by over-exposure and controversy from what those events looked like back then.