9/11 – Can You Remember Where You Where? What You Were Doing?

Has it really been 8 years? The memory is so vivid.  I don’t think any of us will ever forget where we were, and what we were doing when it happened.

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was driving to work.  At the time, my husband produced and co-hosted a morning radio show, so I was listening to him as I drove.  As soon as the news hit that a plane had crashed into the first tower, my hubby’s show reported it, and as odd as I thought the news was, I didn’t fear the worst.  When I arrived at work, I turned off the car (and radio), and walked up to my work building, which, by the way, was a state building.  I went upstairs to my office and as soon as I sat down, a co-worker ran into my office and told me she heard another plane crashed into the other building.  I was speechless.  At first, I thought rumors were already starting to flow.  I knew the truth when my boss called me into her office and on her tiny television screen were two buildings enveloped in smoke.  I remember feeling numb.  Was this really happening?

There was about five of us staring at that tiny television when it finally hit us. We were under attack.  Soon, there was an intercom announcement telling all non-essential staff to go home because we were state workers, in a state building, and they were not going to take any chances.  We remembered our beloved Alfred E. Murrah building all too well.  My first instinct was to be with my son, who was at the sitter’s house, so I called my husband from my desktop phone (we didn’t have cell phones then), and told him I was on my way home.  He told me that he actually saw the second plane hit the second building in real time.  I just wanted to get all of home.

I don’t think we could pry ourselves away from the news for the rest of the day.  I remember a friend of mine coming over because she was scared, and didn’t know what to do.  None of us knew what to do.  Being in OKC, we had experienced something like this before, but it still didn’t prepare us or make us any stronger.  It did, however, put things in perspective.  Life soon became so delicate, precious, and short.

A few months after 9/11, in January 2002, I quit my state job to stay home with my son full-time.  It is where my heart needed to be, and I have been there since.  In April 2002, my husband and I visited NYC.  I wasn’t sure what the mood would be  like there, with the attack still so fresh in the city’s mind, but I was so impressed.  It was nothing like my first visit to NYC in 1997, where I loved the city, but not the attitude that came with it.  It was so very different this time.  My husband carried a subway map with us at all times, and, I kid you not, every time we pulled it out to figure it out, a New Yorker would come up and help us.  Instead of a city full of dispair and grief, I saw one full of warmth and welcome.  Again, I was so impressed.

When I remember 9/11, I obviously remember the horror, but I am also reminded of how precious life really is.  How can we possible take one day for granted?  We cannot.

Where were you on 9/11?  What were you doing?