story5713.xml
Title
story5713.xml
Source
born-digital
Media Type
story
Date Entered
2002-09-11
911DA Story: Story
My husband and I were members of a group of 40 Duke University and University of North Carolina alumni who has just begun a two week stay at Oxford University's Kellogg College as alumni students on September 10th. We were beginning an intensive study of Roman Britain, complete with field trips to archaeological sites.
Because our September 11th was six hours ahead of the day as experienced by our immediate and extended family members in the Washington DC area, my memories include our visit to a reconstructed Iron Age farm, where we had to dip our shoes in a solution placed there in an effort to ensure no 'mad cow' disease instance could occur. Seemed like the most serious situation we could face at the time. My travel journal also has a reference to the Fishbourne Roman Palace and a ploughman's lunch that day, at the Red Lion Inn, in business since 1147. How odd to experience the longevity of civilization on a day when its fragile nature would be so terribly exposed.
It was 6:50 p.m. Oxford time when we started down the stairs of our dormitory, heading to the Commons for our evening gathering and dinner. A classmate rushed from the elevator. I remember she still had her wine glass with her. She said,
" You don't know - terrorists attacked the World Trade Center with airplanes. The buildings collapsed. Tens of thousands may be dead. And another plane hit the Pentagon and another went down in Pennsylvania; it was probably trying to hit Camp David. We can use the telephone in the dorm hall. This is how you call transAtlantic."
That is what I heard and how I heard it. I was an ocean away from my daughter and her sons, from my son and his wife. Somehow I was able to reach my son's home in Alexandria, Virginia; his mother-in-law was there feeding the dog. She was her usual matter-of-fact self, announcing that my son and her daughter were fine, just stuck in their offices. I asked her to call our daughter's home to leave a message because she would be in her classroom dealing with the crisis as a teacher. I felt desperate to connect with my family.
What I wrote in my journal when night - not sleep - finally came:
"...our world as we knew it is gone. I can't stop shaking inside. ....Circuits all busy so I can't get through. Our e-mail address from home does not work. I want to be at home with my children. I wonder about ....(and then listed the friends and the grown children of friends I knew lived in New York City). I wonder about (my daughter's) Muslim students and how she will manage. I wonder about (our grandsons, aged 13 and 11) being afraid. I wonder about (my colleagues) in the Fairfax County government buildings.
"I think of those people trapped in foreign countries at the beginning of World War II. I think I have a tiny sense of what they must have felt, being trapped continents away from their loved ones. The distance......and I can do nothing about it. What if the terror spreads worldwide? What is next?
"All flights from Europe are halted - we couldn't get home if we were supposed to - wonder how I can continue this vacation, this study that was to have been a celebration. How can our country continue? What about (my son and daughter-in-law's) businesses? How does (my daughter) help the children?
"Absolute total vulnerability, the sense of it. Makes one afraid of waiting around here. American we say in our appearance. Have to get to bus station and to airport and somehow safely across the Atlantic. Wonder if we will travel again? Intimidation - this is what this is about.
"Feeling completely alone and so incredibly frustratingly separate from what is now real. Connection is everything and I am not connected".
Post Script to the 11th:
I walked into Oxford town on the 12th, fearful of the many men on the street who were obviously from the Middle East, and ashamed for being fearful.
On the sidewalk, signs, "Pray for America"; stars and stripes appeared in the buses. We stood in the college Commons with the rest of Europe for 3 minutes of silence; on television we watched the Queen sing the Star Spangled Banner in Westminster and heard Big Ben toll. We found sympathy and understanding from those who had endured the blitz, and from their children and their grandchildren. We eventually reached our own children by phone and new e-mail. We flew home to them and to our changed world on September 22nd.
Because our September 11th was six hours ahead of the day as experienced by our immediate and extended family members in the Washington DC area, my memories include our visit to a reconstructed Iron Age farm, where we had to dip our shoes in a solution placed there in an effort to ensure no 'mad cow' disease instance could occur. Seemed like the most serious situation we could face at the time. My travel journal also has a reference to the Fishbourne Roman Palace and a ploughman's lunch that day, at the Red Lion Inn, in business since 1147. How odd to experience the longevity of civilization on a day when its fragile nature would be so terribly exposed.
It was 6:50 p.m. Oxford time when we started down the stairs of our dormitory, heading to the Commons for our evening gathering and dinner. A classmate rushed from the elevator. I remember she still had her wine glass with her. She said,
" You don't know - terrorists attacked the World Trade Center with airplanes. The buildings collapsed. Tens of thousands may be dead. And another plane hit the Pentagon and another went down in Pennsylvania; it was probably trying to hit Camp David. We can use the telephone in the dorm hall. This is how you call transAtlantic."
That is what I heard and how I heard it. I was an ocean away from my daughter and her sons, from my son and his wife. Somehow I was able to reach my son's home in Alexandria, Virginia; his mother-in-law was there feeding the dog. She was her usual matter-of-fact self, announcing that my son and her daughter were fine, just stuck in their offices. I asked her to call our daughter's home to leave a message because she would be in her classroom dealing with the crisis as a teacher. I felt desperate to connect with my family.
What I wrote in my journal when night - not sleep - finally came:
"...our world as we knew it is gone. I can't stop shaking inside. ....Circuits all busy so I can't get through. Our e-mail address from home does not work. I want to be at home with my children. I wonder about ....(and then listed the friends and the grown children of friends I knew lived in New York City). I wonder about (my daughter's) Muslim students and how she will manage. I wonder about (our grandsons, aged 13 and 11) being afraid. I wonder about (my colleagues) in the Fairfax County government buildings.
"I think of those people trapped in foreign countries at the beginning of World War II. I think I have a tiny sense of what they must have felt, being trapped continents away from their loved ones. The distance......and I can do nothing about it. What if the terror spreads worldwide? What is next?
"All flights from Europe are halted - we couldn't get home if we were supposed to - wonder how I can continue this vacation, this study that was to have been a celebration. How can our country continue? What about (my son and daughter-in-law's) businesses? How does (my daughter) help the children?
"Absolute total vulnerability, the sense of it. Makes one afraid of waiting around here. American we say in our appearance. Have to get to bus station and to airport and somehow safely across the Atlantic. Wonder if we will travel again? Intimidation - this is what this is about.
"Feeling completely alone and so incredibly frustratingly separate from what is now real. Connection is everything and I am not connected".
Post Script to the 11th:
I walked into Oxford town on the 12th, fearful of the many men on the street who were obviously from the Middle East, and ashamed for being fearful.
On the sidewalk, signs, "Pray for America"; stars and stripes appeared in the buses. We stood in the college Commons with the rest of Europe for 3 minutes of silence; on television we watched the Queen sing the Star Spangled Banner in Westminster and heard Big Ben toll. We found sympathy and understanding from those who had endured the blitz, and from their children and their grandchildren. We eventually reached our own children by phone and new e-mail. We flew home to them and to our changed world on September 22nd.
Collection
Citation
“story5713.xml,” September 11 Digital Archive, accessed January 8, 2025, https://911digitalarchive.org/items/show/12019.