Sept. 11th: a memorandum
6 years ago today:
I woke up and decided it was a good idea to eat chinese food for breakfast. (This was the last time I ever ate chinese food for breakfast.) It apparently was not, as it was not a good start to an odd day. I sat, watching TV, went up stairs, got ready to go to class. I was a Tuesday just like today. I had a 9:30 class - American literature, followed by a writing class.
I remember coming down stairs, hurrying to make the bus. I was grabbing my stuff from the kitchen when Abby called to me "Oh my gosh, a plane just ran into World Trade Center." This was the first plane. I ran quickly to the living room, watched the TV briefly, and we had a short discourse over what the fuck just happened.
I ran and made the bus. Thoughts of the plane hitting the building left my brain. I was focused on Tom Sawyer (Or was it Huckleberry Finn?). I headed up to my next class - same building. As the students arrived, the class was a buzz. More planes crashed. Fear, concern, and worry filled the room. My teacher entered the room, looking grave. She gave us the latest information on the attacks. Classes were canceled. We were to go home.
I walked home, in a haze. I didn't know what to do. My brain felt overloaded, confused.
I got home, and sat in front of the tv, like millions of other Americans, watching the news. Watching the planes smash into the towers over and over again. Looking at the wreckage of the Pentagon. I called Anna. She came over, we smoked pot. In the moment, we knew it wasn't the most logical thing to do, but we didn't know what else to do. I talked to my sister. I talked to my dad. I don't remember any of the words that were spoken. But we talked, and talked. I think we all felt that if we kept talking it would fill the avoid we all felt growing in our chests.
Anna took me for ice cream. Ice cream is my comfort food. We drove with the windows down and I felt privileged to have the warm breeze on my face. To be alive. To be safe in this small college town.
I got back home and tried to watch more of the news, but I couldn't take it. So, I took a nap and got up and went to work. When I arrived, my manager was in the midst of an American flag crisis. We had sold out in less than an hour. Less than an hour. What were we to do? I didn't know. I had no answers. We couldn't get anymore until the next day.
People kept flooding in, asking for flags. I hated telling them we were sold out. I felt like I was letting them down. That I couldn't even help that way. That I could fulfill these people's needs for flags. People wanted to show their support. We all felt so helpless, and putting up a flag was all they could think to do immediately. IT's really all they could do. My co-worker mainly sat on the floor, feeling empty and confused. We had no flags, and beyond that, no customers.
After work, I had to call pistolpfm. Even though I knew he was fine, I had to hear his voice. I had to confirm he was fine. I had to talk to him. The phone lines were packed that day. It was so difficult to get through to anyone - especially in the New York area. I called him probably 20 times before I got through. We talked for a while. I don't know how long. I don't remember what about. It was a sad conversation. Bittersweet. That's just what kind of day it was.
*******
I don't think I'll ever forget that day. Even though what I did was trivial, and unimportant, I can't ever forget it. We can never forget that day. More horrible atrocities will occur, but we will always persevere. Say what you will about Americans, but we are strong and we will always make it through whatever adversities the world throws us.
I woke up and decided it was a good idea to eat chinese food for breakfast. (This was the last time I ever ate chinese food for breakfast.) It apparently was not, as it was not a good start to an odd day. I sat, watching TV, went up stairs, got ready to go to class. I was a Tuesday just like today. I had a 9:30 class - American literature, followed by a writing class.
I remember coming down stairs, hurrying to make the bus. I was grabbing my stuff from the kitchen when Abby called to me "Oh my gosh, a plane just ran into World Trade Center." This was the first plane. I ran quickly to the living room, watched the TV briefly, and we had a short discourse over what the fuck just happened.
I ran and made the bus. Thoughts of the plane hitting the building left my brain. I was focused on Tom Sawyer (Or was it Huckleberry Finn?). I headed up to my next class - same building. As the students arrived, the class was a buzz. More planes crashed. Fear, concern, and worry filled the room. My teacher entered the room, looking grave. She gave us the latest information on the attacks. Classes were canceled. We were to go home.
I walked home, in a haze. I didn't know what to do. My brain felt overloaded, confused.
I got home, and sat in front of the tv, like millions of other Americans, watching the news. Watching the planes smash into the towers over and over again. Looking at the wreckage of the Pentagon. I called Anna. She came over, we smoked pot. In the moment, we knew it wasn't the most logical thing to do, but we didn't know what else to do. I talked to my sister. I talked to my dad. I don't remember any of the words that were spoken. But we talked, and talked. I think we all felt that if we kept talking it would fill the avoid we all felt growing in our chests.
Anna took me for ice cream. Ice cream is my comfort food. We drove with the windows down and I felt privileged to have the warm breeze on my face. To be alive. To be safe in this small college town.
I got back home and tried to watch more of the news, but I couldn't take it. So, I took a nap and got up and went to work. When I arrived, my manager was in the midst of an American flag crisis. We had sold out in less than an hour. Less than an hour. What were we to do? I didn't know. I had no answers. We couldn't get anymore until the next day.
People kept flooding in, asking for flags. I hated telling them we were sold out. I felt like I was letting them down. That I couldn't even help that way. That I could fulfill these people's needs for flags. People wanted to show their support. We all felt so helpless, and putting up a flag was all they could think to do immediately. IT's really all they could do. My co-worker mainly sat on the floor, feeling empty and confused. We had no flags, and beyond that, no customers.
After work, I had to call pistolpfm. Even though I knew he was fine, I had to hear his voice. I had to confirm he was fine. I had to talk to him. The phone lines were packed that day. It was so difficult to get through to anyone - especially in the New York area. I called him probably 20 times before I got through. We talked for a while. I don't know how long. I don't remember what about. It was a sad conversation. Bittersweet. That's just what kind of day it was.
*******
I don't think I'll ever forget that day. Even though what I did was trivial, and unimportant, I can't ever forget it. We can never forget that day. More horrible atrocities will occur, but we will always persevere. Say what you will about Americans, but we are strong and we will always make it through whatever adversities the world throws us.