Remembering 9/11

I would be amiss if I didn't take the same opportunity that everyone else is doing and talk a little about 9/11 on it's 10th anniversary.  Pardon me for following the masses, but I feel like I should.

I use to skeptically listen to my mom recount where she was exactly when she heard that President Kennedy had been shot.  I never could understand how someone could remember something so insignificant as their location so many years later unless they were directly involved in the incident.

On September 11, 2001, I was in the shower when I first heard of the attacks on the World Trade Center buildings.  We had this little fish radio that hung on the shower head that I would listen to every morning as I showered for work.  The radio DJ's just said that a plane had hit the World Trade Center in New York.  I finished up my shower and then went and told Wade.  In my head, I thought it was some pilot error or mechanical problem.  Wade didn't from the get go.  He said that it was a deliberate act.  And I didn't believe him.  I never believe him when he says that something is done deliberately to hurt others.  Sadly, he's usually right.

Wade ran out to the living room and plugged the tv in.  His sister had given us the television, after she had upgraded to a new one, shortly after our wedding three months prior.  We didn't plug it in until September 11.  We were able to then watch as the second plane hit the World Trade Center live on television.  It was an eerie feeling to watch and realize that these were deliberate acts.

Life had to go on as normal for us, we were so far removed from the incident, and we had to leave for school and work.  It was a somber day at work.  Our headquarters were in New York, though not in the city, and we had a co-worker that was from New York.  We would rush into the break room in between calls and work to watch the news coverage.  I remember someone running out to tell us that the second tower had collapsed.

Being from a fairly small metropolis, I couldn't--and still can't--comprehend the sheer size of these towers.  My office building had five floors.  In my head, I reasoned that most everyone would have gotten out by running down the stairs.  I was horribly wrong.  The realization that not only did thousands of people who worked in the buildings die, but also hundreds of firefighters and police officers who had run in to help, was a terrible moment.

I can also remember someone running out to tell us that the Pentagon had been hit and we all crowded into the break room to watch as they came across and said that a fourth hijacked plane that was headed for the White House had crashed in Pennsylvania.

That night Wade and I sat on the couch and watched coverage.  We cried as loved ones held up pictures of their missing brother, sister, mom, dad, husband, wife in hopes that somewhere they'd be found safe.  It was an overwhelming feeling to know that so many people had woken up that Tuesday expecting it to be like every other day and in a split moment, their lives  were changed forever.

I remember this all like it happened yesterday.

Over the days, we watched and listened as the stories unfolded.  The last known messages from loved ones on the phone, the heroics of those on Flight 93, the survivor stories and the stories from those who didn't make it.  It was all encompassing.  We were mesmerized every night in front of the television.

Driving home one night from my organic chemistry class, the realization hit me that the world I lived in would never be the same.  I knew that this was a  defining moment in my generation.  That, like the assassination of JFK, I would always remember where I was at on 9/11.

Take a moment today to remember those who suffered so terribly on 9/11.  Those who were in the buildings, those on the planes, the firefighters and police officers, and those left behind to pick up the pieces.  Also remember those who are fighting for our freedoms overseas, especially those who have given the ultimate sacrifice--their  life--in this fight.