story210.xml

story210.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2002-03-10

September 11, 2001 is a series of snapshot memories in my mind. A coworker approached my desk and asked if I had heard about the plane that hit one of the WTC towers. My reflexive response was, "Terrorists?" although I didn't have any idea of the extent of the destruction to come.

I tried to get back to work but couldn't concentrate. As events unfolded, they seemed unreal and unbelievable. My son, Peter, who lives in Arlington, Virginia, e-mailed me asking if I had heard what happened. I don't remember whether that was before or after the Pentagon was hit, but it didn't dawn on me right away that Peter could be at risk, although his apartment is very close to the Pentagon.

My first reply to him was yes, we were listening to the radio and getting a TV set up. My second reply was to ask him exactly where he was. He said he was at home but needed to go out to Fairfax, which he would wait to do until after lunch. My next reply was very simple--STAY WHERE YOU ARE.

Soon I heard rumors that because our building is connected to the Federal Building in downtown Columbus, we would be sent home, and that all of downtown Columbus was going to be evacuated. A radio announcement at 11:00 said that no decisions had been made, but a PA announcement immediately afterward told us that Governor Taft was releasing all state employees for the day.

My husband works on the same floor with me, so I checked in with him and made plans to leave. I took time to send e-mails to other family members telling them that Peter was all right and that we were headed home. We then walked to our car and proceeded to weave our way through all of the barricaded streets and traffic jams. No one knew what streets were open, but drivers were cordial and patient with each other. Our seven-mile trip, which usually took 15-20 minutes at rush hour, took about an hour.

At home, I realized that one of my coworkers had not been at work that morning but was planning to come in for a staff meeting that had been scheduled for 1:00. My call caught her just before she walked out the door. I babbled warnings to her about staying at home and a plane hitting the World Trade Center. We had a bad connection, and after a pause, her only response was, "Who is this again?" I told her to sit down and turn on the TV for an explanation.

During that afternoon, as the news got worse and worse, we heard from Peter several times. He said he could see the smoke from the Pentagon from the street in front of his apartment building. At one point he sounded panicky and was making plans to get out of town. We encouraged him to calm down, turn the TV off, and do something to distract himself. In the days to come we suggested that he try to get back to his normal routine, and that he find a way to feel he was making a contribution, even if only in the form of a blood donation.

Throughout the horrible sequence of events, I felt shocked and numb and frightened. The damage and losses were unthinkable, but they were real. I was relieved that Peter was safe, but it was then and still is painfully obvious that as long as he chooses to stay in Washington he will be in a high-risk location. I felt angry that his options and decisions might be affected by these acts of vicious hatred, but I also realized how insignificant his loss and mine really was.

Peter is a graduate student at the Center for History and New Media at George Mason University. He has been involved in the development of this website, and he encouraged me to write my story about 9/11. I hope he did follow through with that blood donation, but this project is a wonderful contribution too.