The day dawned clear and bright, one of the most beautiful of the year. Fall was sending hints of its impending presence and the humidity marking August was nowhere to be found. I woke early, joining a small group of friends for prayer in the Student Union. Afterward my future wife and I sat quietly in a study lounge reading the Bible. Such a peaceful start to what would be anything but a peaceful day.
As I strolled the hall toward my dorm room, I heard sounds of a newscast leaking from the doorway. This is odd, I thought, Mike is awake? Watching the news? My roommate was a notorious heavy sleeper, and I knew that he would be sleeping until just after the very moment he needed to leave to make class on time. And never did I experience him watching the morning news.
I entered the room to find it empty. Looking quickly to the TV, I saw an image of the iconic World Trade Center, smoke billowing from the upper floors of both towers. It was 9:15. After a few moments of stunned silence, Mike walked back in.
"What happened?" I asked with incredulity. He responded by explaining that he'd been woken up by a phone call from someone in his morning class, telling him to turn on the TV. He'd had it on for just a few minutes before I walked in and knew little more than I did. Two planes had hit the World Trade Center on a clear blue day. The newscasters were still speculative - was it an accident? What kind of planes were they? What is going on? Terrorism didn't enter my mind immediately; confusion did. I suppose the innocence of the days before 9/11 had yet to be broken. All I could wonder was how such a catastrophic accident could happen.
The innocence broke when one of the newspeople mentioned terrorism. It was still speculation at that point, nothing was confirmed and rumors were swirling. Over and over the video of the second plane striking the tower replayed, and stunned anchors sought to analyze the data - size of plane, trajectory, angle of impact. I still wouldn't believe that it wasn't accidental. We didn't know terrorism; such an act was unthinkable. After a few minutes of gazing open-mouthed at the TV screen and frantic conversation with Mike, I decided to rush off to class. Something very strange had happened, but no one really knew what. It never entered my mind that anything worse would follow.
My class was volleyball. I was a senior, what do you expect? Shortly before the 11 o'clock end of class, someone walked in to the gym and whispered something in the instructor's ear. He quickly made an announcement to the class that we were done; some things were more important than volleyball. I remember those words distinctly, along with the quiver in his voice. It now seems such an absurd statement, but what else was he to say? The woman who had broken the news to him then broke it to the class: in an act of terrorism three passenger planes had been flown into American targets - the twin towers of the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. The news of the Pentagon was a surprise, but the news that would follow would change everything. In a somber tone, she announced that both towers of the World Trade Center had collapsed. This news hit me like none other. Audible gasps filled the room. My mind swirled, not knowing how to process this information. One of my classmates fell to the floor, overtaken by shock.
I didn't know what to do. What could I do? I raced across to the nearest common area, where I found a large crowd gathered around a small TV. Replays of the impossible looped as people shook their heads in horror and shock. Every few seconds, someone who had yet to hear the news rounded the corner and froze, mumbling questions to complete strangers. We were all in this together.
For some reason I went to my next class. I suppose I had no idea what to do. I still have no idea why Penn State didn't cancel all classes for the day. So I went, my mind still swirling. All I did was share this awful news with classmates. Then I went back home, huddling around the TV with friends. It was all we could do. We just needed to be together, and to watch. We couldn't take our eyes away.
The images were tragic. I don't know how many times we commented that it was like watching a movie. If it wasn't seen it wouldn't be believed. There were no commercials and very little censorship. If it was caught on film, we all saw it. New images of the planes making their horrifying final descent into the buildings. People jumping to their deaths to avoid the horrors inside. Bewildered, bloody, ash-covered New Yorkers filing away en masse from lower Manhattan. The awful moments of the towers buckling and falling away, disappearing from existence. With each new image, we called the others to look with us. As awful as the images were, we couldn't turn away. We all knew we'd never forget it.
The days following were a blur. Prayer and memorial services, cancelled events, discernment over how we could possibly respond. I especially remember the eeriness of looking into a cloudless blue sky and seeing no trace of a jet trail. I was so used to seeing airplanes overhead that the full ground stop was arresting, a reminder that the world had changed.
I'll never forget where I was on September 11, 2001. And I hope I'll never forget the thousand acts of bravery, courage, heroism, community, love, resolve, strength, and compassion that accompanied four heinous acts of cowardice and murder. The memory of those lost and those who sacrificed all deserves recognition.
That's where I was. Where were you?
1 comment:
I was in high school still, an was happily oblivious to everything happening until about 10:20 in the morning, when I had entered my fourth period civics class. The television was on, and I was shocked as well. Wondering why the television was on in class, then just trying to process this information as a stunned 15 year old. But, it was just shock and horror. I didn't know what was happening like you, and raced home to continue to watch the news after school was done.
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