Posted on 09/10/2007 6:41:30 PM PDT by Milwaukee_Guy
Might be a good time to revisit how we all heard about the the attack on 9/11 and how we reacted to the darkest day in American history.
What emotions were strongest for you on that day?
How did you find out? Did you stay at work? Did you go Home? Who did you call?
I was in college, in a weather class. School had just recently started and some students had left class to go to the bookstore to get their books. They returned saying planes had hit the tower and the Pentagon. I remember leaving the room and crying my eyes out..thinking that the world was ending. I knew that life would never be the same and cried for my children who would never know the world I grew up in.
What a crying shame that this happened. Senseless, destruction, against innocent people who went to work that day. A crime against humanity.
Bet you and I weren't the only ones with that thought. That was one of those never forget "Oh Crap" moments but I never dreamed it would turn out this way.
Very well,
Then, as now, I live(d) in El Segundo, California. (For those in Rio Linda, El Segundo is immediately south of LAX International Airport.) I had just returned from a church retreat late Sunday, and my apartment room was a mess. I had gone out with friends late Monday night, and woke up groggily on Tuesday morning, September 11.
In my job at a local church, I had a flexible schedule that allowed me to choose the time I would start. I needed to get some materials returned from the recent retreat...but when I woke up, I couldn’t find a clock, I wasn’t wearing my watch, and I wanted to know what time it was. So I decided to look in the one spot where I knew the time would be shown...the morning talk shows.
I turn on Fox 11, and I see a building on fire...since I wasn’t wearing my glasses, I thought that it was a movie preview...the shows do it all the time. So I put on my glasses, and then I was able to see the captions - two planes fly into World Trade Center, terrorism suspected.
I then noticed something that I was unaccustomed to hearing in my neighborhood, right next to the airport - there was no noise. (the planes had been grounded by then) It was the eeriest sound I never heard.
First I was in shock, then I was angry, and then, as I finally got myself together and went to work, I lost it everytime I saw an American flag. There is a McDonalds down the street from my old apartment, with one of the biggest American flags you’ll ever see. And it was already at half staff. I stopped at the post office and at a BMW dealer on my way to work and asked them if they would lower their flags. They agreed. People were crying in the post office, in line. I tried to offer comfort.
Our church was open extended hours at noon for a few weeks, for those who wanted to come and pray, or cry, or talk, or whatever. We had special prayer services, as well as our regular weekend services, and all the while, everytime I saw the pictures, saw the flags, saw the police and firefighters, I lost it. Everyday the local sports station would play the National Anthem at noon and at 5pm, and I cried until I thought I had no more teara. I was wrong. The flags were still up in Redondo Beach from Labor Day a week prior...even thinking of it now, I start to lose it.
And this was before I started to become “political”, before I ever heard of Free Republic...before I started listening to Rush, or Sean, or Larry Elder, or Mark Levin, or Hugh Hewitt, or any of the other talkers.
To those who ask me about my political views and history, I tell them this: if the aftermath of the 2000 election was my “conversion”, 9/11 was my full immersion “baptism”...and six years later, having had to move from El Segundo because of the aftermath of 9/11 (my roommate was an airline mechanic), I have now come full circle. I will be matching the news in the morning, and watching as many memorials as I can, before going to work.
God bless our President, and those who serve to protect us from our enemies, foreign and domestic.
I was at home, about 2 miles from the Pentagon. My children were at school nearby. My husband, recently moved from the Pentagon to the Washington Navy Yard, was at work.
I listen to talk radio on a headset while moving around the house and heard that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. I turned on the TV and got on the phone with him. Within minutes the other plane hit and I told him, “Thank God you aren’t in the Pentagon anymore.” (I knew they would attack Washington, and to this day am shocked that no one else seemed to know that.)
I heard a roar go over the house, and a few minutes later all of my windows shook, the glasses rattled in the cabinets. I had no idea what had happened. I know now that the fuselage of the plane had exploded at the Pentagon.
I jumped in the car, radio on and went to the school to get my kids. The other parents were streaming in and I was worried about the Navy Yard. A retired marine told me to calm down that it was not a target.
By this time, rumors were swirling. The State Department had been attacked, the Washington Monument was down, there was a plane headed for the White House or the Capitol. I kept scanning the northern horizon for mushroom clouds.
The smell of burning started and the beautiful September day smelled like a ammo dump.
The traffic was horrible, and it took me an hour to get the 2 miles home with my kids. The children took their hamster to the basement and built a shelter, while I made brownies and waited for my husband.
The principal told me later that she had to call some parents to come pick up their kids after almost all of them were gone... The children shuddered whenever a plane went by for months.
The offices that my husband had been in a few months earlier were destroyed. He lost 265 people from his home parish in New York and my sister-in-law walked out of Manhatten into Brooklyn.
Planes swept the DC area for weeks and we would lie awake at night listening to them. There were troops transports on every highway and byway.
A neighbor ran from Crystal City to the Pentagon child care center, extracted his daughter and headed away before the Pentagon was hit. We sit and marvel that we knew they would hit here while those in the Pentagon sat and watched NYC on TV without moving. There were no jets in the area to protect DC.
No jets near DC and the Pentagon sat watching the MSM. Is there any wonder we were vunerable?
I will never forget.
A girl that didn’t speak english very well told me about the first plane. I assumed it was a cessna or something. Then the second plane hit. She told me about that. I thought she was confused and blew it off as her being unable to convey thoughts accurately. I thought she was confused. When she did finally convinced me, the first thing I said was “one is an accident, two is no accident. This was planned.” The poor girl started crying when I said that.
It was moving day for me. From Southern Maryland to Northern Virginia. No phone calls possible for several hours due to overloaded circuits and traffic gridlocked with the mass exodus from the area. Moving truck didn’t show up at the new residence (wasn’t a big deal because others were suffering real problems).
I could see the black smoke from the burning Pentagon from the Wilson Bridge that crosses the Potomac. Military helicopters were flying low along the banks of the Potomac, up to Washington and back to Virginia, up and back, up and back, in groups of four.
F15’s were streaking low across the sky near Dulles Airport. Groups of people were standing around outside, watching the strange spectacle of our jets being used for actual defense rather than practice runs.
BKO and Father Ryan?
My family will never forget it.
And it kept getting worse.
Everything changed after the second plane - stragglers into the office were in tears, no answers to calls to bond traders at Cantor, building management over the PA saying to stay inside, circuits to Jersey overloaded. A client managed to call in. I asked him to ring my wife just to let her know I was okay and gonna find a way back to Jersey.
After the first tower collapse, it was the dead of night. Couldn’t see anything out any window. From just 8 floors up I couldn’t see Water Street. As the smoke/dust cleared, there were abandoned vehicles - city buses, FedEx trucks, cars - all over the street below. Everyone and everything was covered in grey dust. A million pieces of paper.
Left my building at about 11:30 am. Walked to the Staten Island Ferry. No one knew if a ferry would arrive and a big crowd started to gather. A ferry did show and it seemed like a million people crowded on. The crew had every orange life jacket out - in neat stacks near the seats. Odd, I thought. No one put them on, but nice to know they were there.
Strange ferry ride. No traffic on the Verrazanno. Warplanes overhead. An impossibly beautiful day until you looked back at Lower Manhattan. No towers. Just smoke.
The cops made sure everyone knew the subways on Staten Island were free - just get on, NOW. Rode the subway as far as I could. Got off and started hitch-hiking on the Korean War Vets Highway. First car that saw me pulled over from the fast lane. NYC cop. Said he couldn’t take me over the Goethals Bridge ‘cause they weren’t allowing any traffic back onto Staten Island.
Stuck my thumb out again and got a ride to my car parked in East Brunswick from the first car that spotted me. Two Indian guys. Wanted me to know they would take me wherever I wanted to go. Honest, sir.
Got home at about 4 pm. Teen daughter standing in the driveway, sobbing. Shocked, I asked her, Why? Just so scared, she said.
I was 12 years old on September 11, 2001. I remember coming in to English class and seeing the TV on. I saw the World Trade Center with black smoke coming out of it. My teacher told me that a plane had crashed into it. At first I thought maybe it was an accident, but then a second one crashed. I knew it was no accident then. Throughout the day we continued hearing of plane crashes; the Pentagon, and Flight 93 in Pennsylvania. My mom picked me up early from school. Since we live just 40 miles from DC, a potential target, she was taking no chances. We watched the news for hours. I really could not believe what had just happened. I remember the horrible images of fire and smoke blasting out of the Twin Towers, and a still shot of an airplane just feet from one of the towers. I can only imagine what went through those people’s heads; how horrifying it must have been to realize they were inches from a terrible death with nothing they could do. I went outside later in the day, and I saw an airplane pass by overhead. My only thought was, “Is it happening again?”
My English teacher’s sister worked at the World Trade Center, but on the morning of September 11 she didn’t hear her alarm go off and slept through it, thus making her late and she missed the train to work. Her life was spared by a fateful coincidence of sleeping in on just the right morning.
One of my teachers had recently given her guinea pigs to me to take care of since she was moving, and wanted to come visit them. A week before 9/11 we were deciding on a date for her to come over. We chose the 11th. But even then I had this fishy feeling, like it just wasn’t going to work out for some reason and that she wouldn’t be able to see her guinea pigs. And sure enough, our plans didn’t work out.
My flag will be flying tomorrow. NEVER FORGET!
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I was standing near the top of some tower made out of brown brick. For some reason I was holding my calculator, and on the screen were animated graphics of explosions. The view switched to a front view of the tower. An airplane could be seen off to the right coming straight at the tower. Then there was a white flash. And then I woke up.
That was the dream I had the night before 9/11
Another thing I remember is that on the Monday after 9/11 just after midnight, the aurora borealis could be seen as far south as Maryland. They were very faint, but they were there. I watched them from the bathroom window, but the odd thing about this display was that it was not just streaks of light, it seemed to light up the whole sky. And odder still is that the only color that seemed to show was red, as if to symbolize the blood of the innocent shed the week before.
May we never forget.
There was no radio or TV. A dad called when the pentagon was hit. I relayed that to the principal. School starts at 7:45. People started coming back to get their kids all morning long.
My husband had not yet left for work when the second tower was hit. My sister called him after the Pentagon was hit, (She lives in DC.) My Parents called him after a Dr. Appointment they were at on Long Island. Saying they were o.k. and were staying at my Uncle's. My husband called me to let me know what was going on. I almost passed out when he told me all that. (My parents live upstate and I didn't know they were going to be on the Island.)
I spent the day sneaking little FR peaks, between calling kids out of the office to go home. He spent the day at home relaying messages to all my family members in NY and DC because they couldn't call each other directly. I came home and watched the coverage in shock.
Barbara went by BKO. I am not sure what Mike's nick was.
What a special girl she must be. A wonderful gift to remind you that there is good in the world.
I grew up in Brooklyn and remember those towers being built. I worked on Wall Street when I was in college and used the subway station there on a regular basis........I won't get into the pubs I frequented, though.
I have been unable to bring myself to cross the Verazano since.
I was in school, tenth grade. It was math class and we were doing the day’s lesson when a teacher came in and said “Turn on the TV! Two Planes just hit the World Trade Center!” We turned on the tv just in time to see the Towers collapse.
I swear I’ll never forget that day. I barely remember anything else; I was a zombie for the rest of school, stumbling from class to class in a daze. My mind just wouldn’t let me accept that we had been attacked.
We were on Celebrity Lines (the Mercury). They were great to us (at least the ones who did their air packages through them) and let us stay on the ship (and fed us) in Vancouver for an extra week until we could get flights back home.
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