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It was my second day at my new job. I was thoroughly excited, I had left early to make sure I was at the office on time. I arrived in downtown Houston, parked my car and walked into the lobby of the building. In the building that I worked at, there are 4 large TV's, one in each corner, that are tuned to CNN throughout the day. Seeing as I was about 10 minutes early, I thought I would watch the ticker to see what was going on that day before I headed up to my cubicle. As I turned to the TV nearest to me, camera crews were just arriving to the scene. I stood in awe, watching as a piece of America stood burning. I watched as the second airplane slammed into the second tower. I listened as people spoke in hushed tones about what this meant, or what could happen. There was a group gathered around me at this point, strangers watching as the difficult reality set in - we were under attack. Some lives were lost, others were ruined. Still others bravely fought for those lives, proudly bearing the burden so heavily laden upon them.
Let us never forget those who gave so much, and those who lost so much. May the events of that agonizing day be forever impressed upon our minds and hearts. And may those memories forever remind us that we are not so different after all. We hurt, we bleed, we die and we triumph. May our similarities be our strength as we move forward, may our differences be set aside as we look back.
i was woken by my mom about a half hour earlier than usual. she said to me "there's something terrible happening, you need to see this". i got out to the tv just as the second plane hit. a few minutes later the first tower fell. it was truely a sickening day for me. the images, playing over and over in the back of my head made it impossible to do anything at all in school. everytime i think about it, i get mad. insanely mad at the people who did this, the people who were so out of touch with reality that they killed 1500+ innocent people because their warped little minds couldn't tolerate anything outside of their mindless existence. death was too merciful for them.
I was out of school currently (university courses had not started yet) and I was in chat and someone said a plane had hit one of the towers but no one knew if it was apassenger plane and accident or terrorism or what. I thought it was an accident. I turned on the news and then the other tower got hit. Then i turned on the radio and all sorts of reports were coming out. The pentagon then got hit and then they started reporting bomb threats all over DC all I remember is it being very hectic and chaotic. It was very sad and frusrating. Everytime I drive into New York (which is rather frequently) I still remember that day and I get equally in a pissy mood.
I was sitting in 7th grade Science class...at first I didn't believe it. I thought it was some ploy to get the rest of the school to be nicer to each other etc.(yes, I was, am still am pretty cynical). I was mostly in disbelief all day.
I flip though my journal from 2001. March 3 – I met the girl who would later become my girlfriend, who would later become my fiancee who would later become my wife. She made my heart lift and flutter. July 11 – My mother was rushed to the hospital for a stroke. The woman who I loved so much would not live to see her son succeed, and my heart was crushed. August 27 - I graduated from college, I was so proud. You see, I always recorded the events of the day, and my emotions in hopes of remembering that day more vividly later.
As I turn the pages beyond that, I come upon a page that is strangely empty. “Sept. 11” written at the top, nothing more. In a day so emotionally charged, with so much change, how could I neglect my traditional pattern of recording the events and emotions I experienced?
That day, I sat in my living room, and watched as the towers fell. I watched as the Pentagon burned. I watched as families searched for loved ones, but the end of the day, I was still 1500 miles away from that fateful site. I felt mournful for those that had lost so much, but how could I empathize? How dare I even try?
That day, I sat so far away. I couldn't understand the loss or fathom the pain. My neighbor lost his brother, a firefighter who gave his life in attempt to save others, but I lost no one. The terrorists hadn't directly attacked me, and I didn't directly suffer. I manipulated myself into an attempt to empathize with those whose lives were rended apart with those towers. “I should be there, helping” I thought to myself. I told myself that it would be good to enlist in the military to exact vengeance on those who would do such horrific things. Brave thoughts from a man in an armchair, half a world away. So hard did I try to make myself feel those emotions which I saw and heard, but still I sat, no closer to the disaster than I was 8 hours before. I was no great man, no hero, no savior. I was nothing but a distant spectator to a horrific tragedy and others' grief. I sat, ashamed of my impotence and lack of action. To record my experiences that day, and pretend that they were authentic or powerful would do injustice to those who experienced true pain and those who rose to the call of action. Those are the experiences that should be recorded in hopes of others remembering the day. Those are the emotions that are true and powerful. Those are the entries that would attest to what happened that day.
I stare at that page and remember that day. I remember how I felt, and attempt, yet again, to imagine what pain flooded those involved. My heart wells tears in my eyes, but I won't let myself cry. I won't pretend I understand.