Where were you on 9/11/2001?

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Me, I would have been eleven. Sixth grade. I remember coming downstairs and seeing the news on the TV, which was strange. My parents never really watched the news. A building was burning, but I thought it was just on fire. Because of the time difference, a few minutes later I watched the plane hit the second tower. My brother saw it, gave my parents a look. We were supposed to fly to Arizona after school that day to start a big road trip that was going to include one of the Disney parks. I forget which one, though. It’s funny what you remember and what you don’t.

We still went to school, though. Our class was split fifth-and-sixth grade. A lot of students didn’t show up, or went home. Mr. Cater played the news on the radio all day, tried to explain it to us in the gaps. I don’t think I really grasped it until a few days later, though. When you’re eleven, no matter how smart you might of been or what your interests were, that sort of information takes a long time to digest.

The curriculum changed a lot, that year. I mean, we still did the usual science projects and mathematics and all the rest of it, but there was what you could almost call “Elementary School Political Science”. We learned a lot more about what the news was, why it was important, and why it was important to be objective. We learned what was possible for ten and eleven year-olds to learn about tensions between the West and the Middle East. It was the first time most of us had ever heard about Islam, or Afghanistan, for that matter. There was a lot of stress placed on the fact that the men who actually committed the attacks weren’t representative of the Middle East, or Islam, or Afghans. The schools started to focus a lot more on tolerance and politeness.

By the next school year, I knew a lot more about news and politics. I watched it in the morning, read the paper when dad was done with it. I still remember where I was the day it was announced that Canada would be joining the US in the war on terror… on the other side of the continent, in a seventh-grade classroom. The principal interrupted French to give the announcement. His son was one of the first soldiers to deploy.

I can’t say the 9/11 attacks forced me to grow up early, because I really can’t remember much else about that period of my life. Sitting where I sit now, ten years less two days down the road, I can see how it certainly changed my interests. I’d always wanted to be a businessman, and that’s what I still want to do. But instead of thinking mostly about pet shops or whatever the scheme of the day had been, it started to be politics. International Trade. History. For a while, I really wanted to be a soldier. Not to “get these people”, but to help the ones who were already fighting. I think it was a common sentiment with most of the “macho” guys. Now, well… it’s either the business studies or the morality talking, but I don’t think I could ever be a soldier.

Ten years. Ten years ago I couldn’t legally own property, determine my own medical treatment, join the military, or vote. Now, I can do all of those things. And even though they sent away the older cousins and the uncles and fathers to fight in Afghanistan, it wasn’t until this year that the soldiers started coming home. The ones who did weren’t our cousins and fathers and uncles. They were our friends, our contemporaries. Boys I used to trade hot wheels cars and pokemon cards with are coming back as men with injuries, decorations, and hearts heavy with trauma and guilt.

I guess what I’m saying is that I remember where I was ten years ago… but I also know where I am today.
 
I had skipped school that day and woke up to my Nana calling me into the living room to fix the tv. It was new with a more complicated remote and, bless her, she frequently hit some odd button to make it not work. I played with it and couldn’t get a picture, so I told her I was sorry and headed back to bed. I turned on the radio in my room and heard something odd about the towers so I switched to a news station and got more details. I tried my tv and found I also had no picture.

We didn’t have cable at the time, so we were limited to broadcast channels- which were locally broadcast off one the twin towers, so when the first plane hit, we lost our tv. I eventually found that channel 4 (their antenna was on the empire state building) worked, just in time for Nana and I to watch the second plane hit. I then had to go downstairs to wake my mother and tell her the twin towers were gone. 😦
 
I was a Naval Officer serving on a ship home-ported in New Jersey just across the water from Manhattan. I stood top-side on the ship and watched the first tower burn. After the second plane hit, we didn’t do much standing around. The ship received orders to get underway, along with every other ship in the fleet, and we spent the rest of the day taking on stores. We finally pulled away from the pier late that afternoon. I’ll never forget the color of the sky as we headed out to sea. It wasn’t blue…
 
i was a little kid in elementary school i remember being clueless about what happened i member some of the teachers having tears in their eyes
 
I was in Greenfield Park, Quebec, Canada, about 20 minutes from Montreal without traffic. I was in Secondary 3 (8th grade had I been in the US) and the only U.S.American in school.
Of course, 2001 was shortly before everyone had cell phones, so I couldn’t communicate with my family until after school (my brother and sister went to a different school at that point).
I first heard about it when all my close friends were on lunch break at one of my best friend’s house (he lived a half block away from school). We had the tv on in the background and were fooling around, just like any other day, when someone noticed something about the twin towers. We watched for a minute, then had to book it to class (we were about to be late, as usual).
I told everyone there’s no way that was real…that we had switched the channel to a clip from some movie…yeah, that was it…I had seen that movie just a couple of months ago…that had to be it!
We got back to class…a minute after the last bell rang. The teacher told us to take our seats. Then she asked if we had all heard the news. She allowed a few comments but we had to move on; she didn’t want to discuss anything based on incomplete information. The only thing I remember saying: “Il va y avoir une guerre! Je connais mon pays. On ne se laissera pas faire! On va avoir une guerre!” (There’s going to be a war! I know my country. We won’t let ourselves played! We are going to have a war!) I completed the day, then got home and stayed glued on the tv for hours. My parents got home early that day too.

The next day:
Our biology teacher took our class time to discuss everything. I was the most cheerful guy in school so I think it surprised everyone that I was the first one our teacher had to hand the tissue box to.
 
I was living in California, as was the rest of my immediate family. My Mom’s ‘branch’ of the family is in New York. I was awakened by my phone machine, my youngest sister’s voice which was greatly disturbed, “Look at the TV! They’ve hit the towers. Mom is upset about Cousin Jack.”

That was all but I knew immediately, as if by instinct, it was a major terrorist attack and I said out loud (pardon me but this is the truth and it’s what I felt in the moment), “D. those **** Muslims. They did it again.” (I had been studying terrorism with Israeli experts for some time so knew a bit more than the average.)

Cousin Jack is my Mom’s cousin who had an office in Tower One. He was on his way to his office at the FIRST WTC attack years before. At the last minute he changed his plans and did not go to work there. Same story on 9/11, he was on his way but something diverted him at the last minute and he was fine.

However, what emerged as phone calls flew from coast to coast during the morning is that my Cousin Liz had just recently started a new job with Cantor Fitzgerald. Her office was on the 105th floor of Tower One. No one could reach her by phone, nor could she reach us. We don’t know how she died, in the flames, in the smoke, or possibly even by jumping as so many did. She would have been in that location. Her remains were of course never recovered.

Liz was murdered by Muslim terrorists. She was 30 years old. She was engaged to be married in 2 months. She was a practicing Catholic and a bright, loving person. I pray her death and all the others of that day may be avenged.
 
I was at work. Back then, our work group was on the top floor near the windows in back, and we worked very close together. I was alternately doing work and flipping more Internet than I should have. About 8:30, I buckled down, and then I heard about some crashed plane in New York from one of my workmates who always had the CNN newsfeed on. I sort of stopped and took a look, but then I righteously went back to work, sure it was a small plane and no big deal.

But things got worse, and pretty soon work kinda ground to a halt, and we went downstairs to watch the news or chatted worriedly. A lot of people were worried about their family members, and I was worried about my brother in DC but couldn’t admit it to myself. It made me snappish online later with people to whom I shouldn’t have done it, and I’m still ashamed of that.

They said that we could leave and go home at lunch if we needed, but I stayed and worked. I knew I’d just watch the TV and brood, otherwise, I didn’t have kids, the traffic was terrible to my parents’ place, and it seemed better to stay at my post if I couldn’t help.

A lot of it is a blur of horror, except for the blue, blue sky out the windows and the silence that usually was full of jumbo jet noises. I remember anger and incomprehension. But I also remember how close we were to each other.

I’m glad I didn’t see live footage of the jumping.
 
On 9/11/2001 I was in 5th grade. Our class watched the events unfold on the television as did other classes and staff members that passed by. It was very sad and surreal.

Ten years later there is much hope.

Requiescat in pace
 
I was in college, getting ready to go to class, running a little behind. I walked out of my room to leave the building (I lived in a dorm) and as I walked by the rooms I could hear different TV’s, the doors that were open had girl’s intensely watching their TV’s inside. I walked to the Mech. Eng. building and noticed there were a lot of whispers and heaviness. When I got to my classroom and a friend told me an airplane had hit the twin towers. I didn’t understand. Then another one hit. I couldn’t believe it. It was hard to concentrate in class (some were cancelled or made shorter, but most went on). The student union had all the TVs on with the news. Everyone… professors, cleaning people, students, food service people, were glued to the TVs. Everyone was walking around with sombre looks. A few hours later while in French class (we were talking about what was happening) I received a phone call from a friend that was on a plane when it happened, on their way to my college (they were going over Philadelphia when the planes hit) and had their plane turn around back to the city of departure many miles away. My friend said the stewardesses were all crying, and then the pilot announced it to everyone.

Then we started hearing the stories (and are still hearing them)…some amazing, many heartbreaking. The brother in law of one of my mom’s friends worked in the WTC and had never missed work (not even called in sick) in all his many years of working there. He had called in that morning to say that he wasn’t going to go in because he had decided to go to a school event for one his kids. I have read/heard so many sad stories. I cannot imagine the pain these families went through (are going through). God Bless them, and the soldiers that are out there now, and all countries and people that are victims of terrorist acts and cruel violence. We need to pray more for peace in the world.
 
Lady_Marchmain said:
I was living in California, as was the rest of my immediate family. My Mom’s ‘branch’ of the family is in New York. I was awakened by my phone machine, my youngest sister’s voice which was greatly disturbed, “Look at the TV! They’ve hit the towers. Mom is upset about Cousin Jack.”

That was all but I knew immediately, as if by instinct, it was a major terrorist attack and I said out loud (pardon me but this is the truth and it’s what I felt in the moment), “D. those **** Muslims. They did it again.” (I had been studying terrorism with Israeli experts for some time so knew a bit more than the average.)

Cousin Jack is my Mom’s cousin who had an office in Tower One. He was on his way to his office at the FIRST WTC attack years before. At the last minute he changed his plans and did not go to work there. Same story on 9/11, he was on his way but something diverted him at the last minute and he was fine.

However, what emerged as phone calls flew from coast to coast during the morning is that my Cousin Liz had just recently started a new job with Cantor Fitzgerald. Her office was on the 105th floor of Tower One. No one could reach her by phone, nor could she reach us. We don’t know how she died, in the flames, in the smoke, or possibly even by jumping as so many did. She would have been in that location. Her remains were of course never recovered.

Liz was murdered by Muslim terrorists. She was 30 years old. She was engaged to be married in 2 months. She was a practicing Catholic and a bright, loving person. I pray her death and all the others of that day may be avenged.
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I am so sorry for your family. 😦
 
Lady_Marchmain said:
I was living in California, as was the rest of my immediate family. My Mom’s ‘branch’ of the family is in New York. I was awakened by my phone machine, my youngest sister’s voice which was greatly disturbed, “Look at the TV! They’ve hit the towers. Mom is upset about Cousin Jack.”

That was all but I knew immediately, as if by instinct, it was a major terrorist attack and I said out loud (pardon me but this is the truth and it’s what I felt in the moment), “D. those **** Muslims. They did it again.” (I had been studying terrorism with Israeli experts for some time so knew a bit more than the average.)

Cousin Jack is my Mom’s cousin who had an office in Tower One. He was on his way to his office at the FIRST WTC attack years before. At the last minute he changed his plans and did not go to work there. Same story on 9/11, he was on his way but something diverted him at the last minute and he was fine.

However, what emerged as phone calls flew from coast to coast during the morning is that my Cousin Liz had just recently started a new job with Cantor Fitzgerald. Her office was on the 105th floor of Tower One. No one could reach her by phone, nor could she reach us. We don’t know how she died, in the flames, in the smoke, or possibly even by jumping as so many did. She would have been in that location. Her remains were of course never recovered.

Liz was murdered by Muslim terrorists. She was 30 years old. She was engaged to be married in 2 months. She was a practicing Catholic and a bright, loving person. I pray her death and all the others of that day may be avenged.
TheRealJuliane;8347221:
I am so sorry for your family. 😦
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I too am so sorry.
 
I was watching the Today show and saw the towers fall “live” on TV. I was crying all day.
 
At school. I still remember that day, where I was when I first knew something was going on, and so much more. I can’t believe it’s been 10 years.
 
I was at work in the break room and was waiting for my assignment for that day i had just taken my first sip of coffee when my boss came running in telling me to turn on the TV in the break room when I did the second plain was crashing into the towers we both watched long enough to see the building next to the twin towers come down By the way I just celebrated 25 years at that same job.needless to say none of us were our mischevious selves that day My boss didn’t even make his usual wisecracks that day he eventually closed the store early which was totally unusual because I work for a major retailer in human resources.
 
My wife & I were @ a gym in Diamondhead, MS, working out. I was getting in shape to attend an upcoming police academy. When the planes flew into the towers, the whole gym just kind of stopped & got silent. The heroic, selfless acts I witnessed & heard about during the next few days made me truly believe that working in the public safety business is truly a vocation given to us by God. I feel truly blessed to have been called by the Lord to serve my fellow man in this career.
 
I was recently engaged and working at my Dad’s practice that morning. The week before I had arranged to have my voice lesson that day in Manhatten on the upper west side, but for some reason, I changed it to Thursday and I thank God I did because I think I would not have been able to come home. A patient came into the office and told us that a plane had hit the first tower. At first we all thought it might have been an accident, but then when we got word about the second tower being hit by another plane, everyone immediately thought they were Muslim terrorists. My father and his colleagues discussed about seeing if they should travel from PA to NYC to help, but were later told that they weren’t needed. We all listened to the radio and got more news from other patients as they came in for their appointments. When we came home from work we were all glued to the television.

Later that day, my husband (then fiance) called me up to tell me that his friend who was to be our best man at our wedding worked in the 2nd tower. He wept believing that he was dead, but fortunately, he got out safely despite bodies dropping around him as he escaped and walked all the way to Brooklyn to stay with relatives. My husband was able to get in contact with his friend’s mother to be sure he was safe.

That day changed some of my plans. I had planned to move to Manhatten for a little while so that I could be closer to my teacher while I studied music and to just experience living in a huge city at least for a little while before I got married. I had recently moved back home from New England and enjoyed small-city and country living and just wanted to experience something different. Well, my priorities certainly changed after 9/11. I continued to study up there, but didn’t move there. It wasn’t that important to live in a major city. I wanted to stay near my family. It was very painful each week seeing an empty skyline from the train and the photographs of all the missing loved ones in the train stations and subway stops and just the mournful quiet you felt. I’ve never seen or felt anything like it before or since and I pray never will again.
 
I am a teacher, and that day we had had to be at school early for a meeting - before the first plane hit. Sometime between second and third hour, we were standing on the sidewalk supervising the changes of classes, when someone came to us with a typed memo about some type of incident in New York, and for us to be reassured that local police (we are in Louisiana) were on alert. And we were to say NOTHING to our students.

I went immediately to the computer to try to find out exactly what had happened. The servers were sooooo slow that day. I couldn’t get on any of the news websites, but I did eventually get to a parenting site that I posted on. From the posts there, I learned that both of the towers were gone. I wanted to cry right then. I quietly relayed the info to the other teacher in the room, who was carrying on with business as usual. But everything changed that day.

For me, it was a very vulnerable feeling. The sense of security that we’d had was shattered.

That weekend, my little family was at Mass. For years previous, Mass had been a matter of convenience. We have been at Mass every Sunday since. My boys are now teenagers, and they know that it is simply not an option. Whatever else may happen on a Sunday, Mass is a given.

I hadn’t been to confession in 8 or so years - as near as I could remember. In the weeks that followed, I reflected on what my fate would have been if planes had hit my building that day. It wasn’t a pretty thought. I knew that I needed to go to confession. My last good confession had been quite a bit longer than 8 years. But first I scoured the internet looking for loopholes so I wouldn’t have to go.

I’m pretty internet savvy, but I didn’t find a single loophole. During Advent that year, I took a day off of work and went Christmas shopping and to confession. That confession was an awesome, life-giving, life-changing, grace-filled experience.

The terrorism of 9-11 was pure evil. But God can bring good even out of pure evil. It was the giant wake-up call that brought my family back…perhaps it saved our Eternal Lives.
 
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