Remembering 9/11

I am too young to remember President Kennedy’s assassination. I wasn’t born when Pearl Harbor was attacked on the Date Which Will Live in Infamy. Those horrendous events are the only ones I consider comparable to the shock we all experienced Sept. 11, 2001.

Even though I well remember that horrible day, recalling it still has an air of unreality. How could such a bizarre attack happen? How could it have succeeded so well? Partially, of course, the attacks were successful because “who would’ve thunk it!”

The night before, I had finished reading a Tom Clancy novel, probably “The Sum of All Fears”. When the alarm went off, the local radio announcer said that a plane had struck one of New York’s Twin Towers. I thought I was dreaming this, that the book had gotten into my dreams. Surely this was an accident, I thought, but I could not shake the idea that I was dreaming. Finally, I went into the kitchen and turned on the TV. Surely that would dispel this nightmare world I’d fallen into.

Instead, I watched in shock and horror as another plane slammed into the second tower. I remember feeling completely numb. I believed my eyes’ evidence, but how could this be happening?

As I sat there open-mouthed, trying to make sense of what was nonsense, Hubby returned from an early-morning meeting. I said that the second tower had been struck. He fell into a chair. He knew that the first tower had been struck. That had happened before he left for his meeting, but he hadn’t yet learned that Tower No. 2 was a target.

We watched numbly until we had to leave for work. I went on my sales route. No one wanted to buy anything. People brought TVs from home to see what was happening. I missed almost nothing because every business was either glued to TV or radio.

I had the feeling that I had fallen into some movie set. None of this could be real, could it? As the events played out, the feeling of unreality kept growing. Even though I knew full well that planes flown by despicable, evil men had flown into the Twin Towers and the Pentagon and that, at the cost of their lives, heroes had prevented that foul gang from flying into some other target, I just could not shake the notion that this was not quite real. The scenario was too far out, too unbelievable, too wicked.

That evening, Hubby and I went outside to enjoy our lawn chairs, hoping to receive a respite from the day’s horrors. The sky was empty of planes. No friendly lights blinked above. Just the Moon, stars and planets shone down. The feeling was beyond eerie. I had felt a sense of violation all day, but those were TV images. As we looked at the sky, my sense of violation, anger and shock broke through the unreality of it all.

That weekend, we attended a show in Copper Mountain, Colo. Many of the vendors who usually packed the hall were trapped at other shows, unable to fly out. Some had rented vehicles so they could fill their booths. Some of the booths had displays but no vendors. Some of the booths had vendors but no displays.

One had been in the sky when the attacks occurred and had ended up at an airport far from his intended destination. The pilot had announced that the Towers had been attacked and that he had to get out of the sky, wherever he could find a place to land. Vendor was still shaken from the experience.

That night, we stood out under the stars holding candles, singing patriotic songs. “God Bless America” and “The Star-Spangled Banner” meant more to me than ever before. Many of us shed tears. Our beloved country had been attacked by cowards who used civilians to wage war. We grieved and mourned. We desired justice for those who had been so brutally murdered.

I will never forget. To this day, I feel relieved every time I look up and see contrails or airplane running lights. Something that meant nothing before is now a source of comfort.

God bless America and protect her from all her enemies.