Thirteen years; seems closer somehow. We had just moved up to Vermont at the tail end of August 2001, and I had started at the Valley News. I was still in the whirlwind of emotions that come with a cross country move to a place with a very different lifestyle, and the new job was not exactly a good fit. Less than two weeks into this new adventure, the September 11th attacks brought the joy and magic of the move to an abrupt end.
At the time, the Classified Ad dept at the Valley News consisted of one small room with carpet that was older than my mother, three desks, computers that weren’t even capable of hitting the web, and phone books for out calls. Quite the step down from the Mobile Register, and while I wouldn’t say it was culture shock for me, I knew I didn’t belong there. Whenever you are at a job and all you can think of is reasons to leave… well, that’s a bad sign. I was desparately looking for things to do that morning, when we heard all the hubub from the news room – one of the only places in the building that had a television. Someone outside of our little space said something about a plane hitting the World Trade Center. Being the new guy (and low man on the totem pole) my co-workers hopped up from their seats and went to ‘get the news’. A few minutes later, they came back into the room talking about the horrible ‘accident’ and what kind of problems the plane must’ve had to be so far off course and run into a building. Now it was my turn, and I went into the news room to watch the news for a few minutes. The TV was mounted from the ceiling, tucked into a corner and pitched downward so everyone could see the twenty five inch screen. I still knew almost no one at my new job, so when I saw the first images that day, I was surrounded by strangers, and felt very alone.
I was about to feel even more alone. You may or may not remember, but the first sights most of us had of the first strike were shakey cell-phone videos (which at the time were pretty low resolution). These were images caught ‘accidentally’. Lets face it – who sits and watches a building all day, every day? The only thing that allowed other images to surface was the fact that a 747 flying that close to the skyline was unusual, so camera crews and people from all walks of life pointed their lenses just in time to capture the impact. When I first saw the image of the plane slamming into the tower, I felt sick. At this time, people were still tossing around the word ‘accident’; then the news anchor interrupted to say that the second tower had been struck, and new images of a second plane hitting the second tower began showing on the screen. Now we knew there was no accident – it was a purposful act. Soon after, we heard about the Pentagon. I didn’t hear about Pennsylvania until later in the day. Rumors of all sorts started pouring in. Someone said the Hoover Dam had been hit, along with the White House, Mount Rushmore, and the Golden Gate Bridge. Fortunately these were just rumors. Unfortunately, the fact that any of it was true was a nightmare.
I think I left early that day, but I honestly don’t remember. I do remember getting to the apartment to find my spouse starring blankly at the television, as the scenes of the day played over and over again. I remember the death toll going up and down, the now unairable scenes of people jumping from fifty floors up trying to escape the burning buildings. I will never forget the feelings of helplessness as I watched the towers take all they could, until one by one they fell, turning day into night with an almost unending roll of smoke and debris that flowed through the streets of New York City like a tsunami, covering everything in its wake with the ashes of the now cremated fallen.
People say that we as a nation lost our innocence that day. I disagree; what we lost was not innocence, but a false sense of security. We’d seen terrorist acts all across the world for decades; the reality that the rest of the world had long faced was now one we had no choice to but look upon. That isn’t as much a loss of innocence as it is an awakening. And now, after years of war, new terrorist groups still spring up, using fear, intimidation and murder to bully their way into power. As we remember those who died on 9/11, thirteen years ago, we ready ourselves for more bloodshed, more battles, and hope all the while that what happened that day will never again happen in America. I fear it is just the beginning – and I pray that I am wrong.
