Summer Day
When I was in the eighth grade and Challenger blew up in Florida Īs
bright morning sun. I knew I would never forget where I was on that when
I heard and the pictures still give me chills. I do remember exactly where
I was. I was standing in the girlsā rest room when Lisa came in and said
that the space shuttle had exploded, I didn't believe her. I remember thinking
that it was a sick joke only to go back to class and find out that what
I thought was a horrible joke was a very scary reality. At thirteen if
one is lucky as I was, you are relatively unaware and life goes on.
Many years later as I was getting ready for my job at a YMCA daycare
center I turned on the television just in time to see what was left of
the Alfred P Murrah federal building. I was horrified to learn that there
was a daycare on the bottom floor and a Y daycare center not far from the
blast site. I went to work that day with a knot in my stomach and strict
instructions not to tell the children anything. For days I watched firemen
and rescue workers sift through debris on the evening news a tricycle,
children's coloring sheets, and shoes, for some reason I remember the shoes.
There were tears and horrible sad stories from families and rescue workers
alike. Yellow ribbons and teddy bears were everywhere covering the fence
that surrounded the rubble. I always considered myself a very patriotic
person but as horrible as the bombing was it still seemed far away only,
to be brought up by a family member of a victim or the eventual trial and
death of one of those responsible. Once again life continued and the images,
though no less powerful have faded with time as well.
September the eleventh a Tuesday: I wasn't working and as a result
had just barely gotten out of bed when my phone rang a little after nine
am. "Turn on the TV she said. It was mom and since we were supposed to
go out later that morning I was confused. I could hear that she didn't
sound right but I wasn't awake so I thought it was me. In the short conversation
that followed and with the help of pictures on TV, I was able to piece
together what they said was going on.
Suicide bombings here, come on, terrorists on airplanes throwing themselves
and thousands of innocent people to their death, this is the United States
of America. I just kept repeating the same question, even though I already
knew the answer. Were there people in the building? The fireball that engulfed
the plane and the building was terrifying and at it time a sight to watch.
The world Trade Center as and always will be the defining buildings of
the New York City skyline for me. To my horror and amazement the second
plane soon had the upper floors of the other building engulfed in flames
as well. I think that is the first time in my life I have ever seen a newscaster
made speechless by the news he is charged with reporting. I don't know
what there is to say in a moment like that but it stood out. I struggled
to tear my eyes from the TV long enough to get a shower but it was hard.
I knew or I thought I knew it couldn't be any worse then that. I took a
very fast shower and as I was stepping out of the bathroom I heard of the
explosion and crashes at the Pentagon and outside of Pittsburgh. I could
not believe what I was hearing but they had picture of the Pentagon in
flames as well. I was instantly sick and flashed on that scene in the movie
Independence Day, as the cities of Washington and New York are exploding
in balls of fire. Unfortunately there was no sign of Will Smith coming
to stop the terror.
I spent the day as all of the country did flipping channels and crying.
I watched in disbelief as the building that one of my friends, described
in a childhood memory, as ladies in black sparkled evening gowns fell from
their place in the sky to the ground below. The black smoke that rose in
their place belied the beauty of the structures and for a short time hid
the destruction and the gaping hole that they left.
I was out for a short time on that day and the intense quiet is what
struck me most. There was no one on the streets; no cars, anywhere and
the few small crowds of people I did see were either talking about what
they had seen and heard or nothing at all. Mom and I went to the Perkins
for lunch but who could eat. I remember thinking that there was something
wrong with the group of women sitting across from us. They were chatting
excitedly about something that, in my estimation, seemed unimportant and
way too loud. Didn't they know? Our waitress quietly but excitedly told
us that they had a radio in the back and were keeping up on the news as
best that they could between orders. She was concerned about her parents
who were in Saudi Arabia, what she wanted most was to get a call through
to her mother. She took our order and moved on the next table. It was then
that I witnessed one of the many kind and generous things that come out
of tragedy. The man sitting at the next table had appeared to be reading
the paper but as she approached him he stood and gave her a hug. " I heard
what you said about your parents dear, and I just thought you might need
that." That moment will stay with me as surely as it will stay with both
of them.
We went back to Mom's house and watched the images on the television. Over and over they showed the planes, through the "miracle" of time-lapse photography, crashing slowly into the buildings. Then as if by magic they would rewind the tape and suddenly the buildings were fine only to show it again and this time with the audio as if once wasn't enough. In the absence of actual photos there are those wonderful things called computer generated images. In this way we, the public were able to see over and over how the plane in Washington may have made it's way into the Pentagon before taking an entire side of the building in yet another fiery explosion.
I am by nature a people watcher and rather then dealing with the questions
or the fear that we all felt; I was much more interested in the human stories.
The doctor who ran down the street to do what doctors do best, save lives,
suddenly found himself caught in the tidal wave of black smoke that barreled
down the block. He was running with practically everyone else in the city
that day, hoping to escape with his life. What made this doctor different
then all the others that went down to the World Trade center on the eleventh
was he had a video camera. Somehow this man had the presence of mind to
keep his camera rolling. He repeated over and over " I really hope I live"
as he jumped behind a car for protection. Once the debris landed he got
up and to my amazement kept looking for people to help. Again I was struck
by the eerie quiet. There was no screaming no crying and virtually no noise
at all save the whine of the fire fighters protection alarms. At some point
during the airing of this tape my Dad came home from work and he just stood
in the family room watching with Mom and me.
As a little girl I looked to Dad to be reassuring when the monsters got to scary. I found myself wishing on this day that he could do the same as he used to when I was five and just make it all go away. I expected to feel better when I saw him. I think that this was the first time I didn't; again there was nothing to say at the moment. I didn't have the relief I was expecting. Dad looked like I felt just so exhausted by the events that it would take to much effort to talk.
Usually my apartment is my refuge from the noise of the world. I appreciate my quiet and space immensely and wouldn't trade it for anywhere else. On this night however I was very afraid and uneasy about being alone. When Dad dropped me off he assured me that this fear was normal and that I should try to relax. "Oh and Laura" he said, I love you, don't watch to much news". Right don't watch the news and relax sure that was going to happen. The quiet I loved so much had suddenly become an enemy. Every noise was reason to jump and lack of noise was worse. I felt that the only thing I could do was to watch the news. And somehow if I wasn't watching I felt guilty. For me it was classic tug of war between my need for peace and, in some strange sense, the need to be where everybody else was. I couldn't go to New York and help and couldn't just go on with my life so I felt in some small way if I was watching at least I could share in the grief that I couldn't quite understand
I spent the first few nights sleeping on my tiny little couch wrapped
in a blanket with television on to drown out the silence. I know that every
time I closed my eyes I saw a slow motion replay of the plane and huge
black fire ball that came after it. In the days since I have heard stories
some personal some on the news, but each one has taken something from me.
I have seen things that I thought I would never see here and hope to never
see again. I thought that I knew what hate and evil could do and I can
now safely say that I had no clue.
We were all taught in school the sacrifices that were made for the
freedoms we take for granted. I was taught to respect the flag and the
hard work and determination that it's stands for. My parents and Grandparents
spoke often of other times in our history when we came together and fought
against a common threat whatever it was. The pride in their voices faltering
when spoke of my generation's lack of respect for the country and us; I
never expected to see a need for the display patriotism that they remembered.
I couldn't imagine what it was like to live through those times.
In the month since the attacks I think I have seen and felt some of
the unity that they talked about. I have seen flags in every window, on
every car and flying from every from every pole. I have noticed that a
lot of people smile at each other and say hello that wouldn't have before.
I have heard and seen stories on the news about people helping other people
just because it was the right thing to do. I am finally starting to feel
a little better and although there is still much sadness and fear in my
heart and though I suspect that it will never truly fade, I can also say
I feel the American Sprit. I have learned from this many things all of
which I will take to heart. I know that I have a greater respect for my
family and for myself. I know that I won't miss the chance to tell the
people that I love how I feel. And the next time any one asks me what I
think about the country or the world I will take the time to have an intelligent
response. I know now in a way I didn't before, that is the reason that
those sacrifices were made and that is was true freedom means.
October 11, 2001