My original idea for this post was to post my journal entry from 9/11/01 (or therabouts, I don't think I actually wrote on that Tuesday, I believe it was a few days later) and contrast that with thoughts based on 10 years of reflection. Unfortunately, my journal is in the attic and I am not venturing up to get it. So, all I can do it write my reflections.
On 9/11 I was in law school. That morning, I ran into Thomas, my future husband. He told me that a plane had just hit the World Trade Center. I told him I didn't believe him, although I really did, because who would joke about that? He took me down to the student lounge, where CNN was playing and dozens of students were gathered around. I only had a few minutes to stand and watch before my next class. I went upstairs and everyone was talking and confused. The students who came out of the classroom had no idea what happened, and the students in the hallway filled them in and watched them run to find the nearest television.
The professor (Rendleman) conducted class as normal. One of the people in front of me had a laptop on, streaming the news. That is how I watched the first (second to be hit) tower fall. It was very surreal. I had never heard of Osama Bin Laden, or Al Qaeda. I doubt I could find Iraq on a map, and I had never heard the terms Sunni, Shiite or jihad.
After that class, I had a break in my schedule and I ran home to watch the news. It was all starting to come together. Earlier, it was mass confusion. I remember one comentator saying, "I don't know if this is Y2K or what." People just really couldn't fathom what was going on. When the other planes went down, I was afraid it would just never end. I thought there could be endless moments of plane crashes and subsequently, even more deaths. I was almost scared to watch the news, afraid of what was going to happen next, but I couldn't turn away.
My afternoon professor wanted to hold class as usual. He said if we didn't the terrorists won because their whole goal was to disrupt our lives. But, it was apparent no one could concentrate and he let us out early. Many of my classmates had friends and relatives in New York and Washington. I am surprised we even went to class, but we were first years and didn't know better (I doubt the third years showed up).
For me, the worst thing was seeing people jumping from the buildings. That footage gave me nightmares for months. I would close my eyes and see them falling. It was terrible. I remember facts rolling in and learning about who was responsible and why. I remember crying when I heard, "Where were you when the World Stopped Turning." I remember a candlelight vigil and watching the news in every spare moment. I remember feeling completely incredulous that this could happen here, in the United States, and bewilderment that there were people who could hate us that much.
I cried a lot. I cried for the children who would grow up without a parent and the mothers and fathers who lost their daughters and sons. I cried when I heard about the heroes of United 93 and wondered what it would have been like to be on that plane, knowing my death was imminent.
It was a powerful time. I also remember being proud to be an American. Proud of the resolve of my country and proud of the unity its citizens showed. Finally, I remember beind touched by other countrys that offered their condolences and seemed genuinely saddened for us.
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