I wanted to write about September 11th yesterday, but I couldn't pull myself away from the documentaries long enough to blog. And it seemed inappropriate to post a measly 140 character tweet for something that was so life-altering for every American.
I still can't believe it's been 10 years since September 11th. Like most people, I remember exactly where I was when I heard the news. I was in college at Villanova University- getting ready to leave my North Campus apartment for my women's studies class when I turned on the tv and saw smoke pouring from the North Tower of The World Trade Center. I stood in utter shock, then immediately thought of my roommate and best friend, Dee, who had driven the 2 hours to New York City with her family to see a Jackson concert. I ran to her bedroom and knocked on her door. She was there. She told me they'd decided to drive home to PA rather than spend the day in NYC shopping. I told her what happened and she immediately turned on her tv and screamed. She frantically tried calling her dad, and her mom who was a flight attendant for US Airways based out of Pittsburgh.
I tried calling my sister who was a freshman at Temple University. I hoped she had not decided to take a last minute excursion to New York with her friends. I couldn't get through. All phone lines were tied up.
I realized I was going to be late for my class, but I couldn't pull myself away from the tv screen. And then, a plane struck the South Tower. Dee and I screamed. We instantly knew this was no accident. We'd both been to New York City countless times and had never seen a plane fly that close to the buildings in Manhattan. Our two other roommates appeared and we all sat there wondering what was going to happen next. Not long after the second plane hit, you could see people either falling or jumping from the burning inferno. I began to cry. I thought about the fear and desparation a human being must feel to jump from that height. I thought about the Villanova students that were from New York. I'd guess over 1/2 our student body was from New York and New Jersey. The devastation they must be feeling at that moment had to be incredible. I tried calling my boyfriend who lived in L.A. but was from New York. I reached him and we talked for awhile. He tried comforting me, but I was already in the grips of fear. The images being broadcast were like a war scene. People running through the streets of New York crying, screaming, looking like zombies as they searched for people they knew.
I don't remember walking across campus into my women's studies class. I just remember all my classmates sitting in a daze and our professor telling us the first tower had just fallen and class was cancelled. I walked back to my apartment and didn't move from the tv for the rest of the day. I finally got a hold of my mom who said my sister was safe in her dormroom in Philly. I also learned that a plane had struck the Pentagon just a few hours south of us in D.C. And another plane had gone down West of us in a field in Pennsylvania. I wondered if the next plane was headed for the central point-Philadelphia.
Philly was closed down. Everyone was shocked. Afraid. I don't think anyone could have ever imagined such a thing happening on American soil. We were the U.S of A.
A super power. The strongest nation in the world. But we were not safe that day from tragedy, grief nor pain.
When the second tower fell, there was an eerie silence. It felt like a nightmare. So many lives gone in a matter of minutes.
Looking back now, I still feel a deep sadness for the families that lost loved ones. The people who didn't get a chance to say good bye to a parent, child, best friend, or lover. I also can't help but to think about the images of those brave fire fighters walking into those two buildings. I wonder if they knew. Even if they did-they went in anyway-because that was what they had been trained to do.
The NYFD and NYPD gave new meaning to the word bravery and honor. They sacrificed their lives to save others. Those men are truly heroes.
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