story4651.xml

story4651.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2002-09-11

My mother called me a few days ago and told me about this site. She thought it might help me. You see, I am one of those emotional people that cry at the drop of a hat. Yet somehow during the days and weeks and months that followed the tragedies of September 11th last year, I didn't cry; at least not very much. Not the buckets worth that I would have expected from myself. In some ways I couldn't. I was for all intents and purposes numb. I felt like that sense of safety we all (us Americans) took for granted was gone. Some things would never be the same again.

Living near DC, people talk about not having to worry about how to go on after World War III or a nuclear attack, because we would be killed in the first strikes. That's what 9/11 felt like.

I was asleep when my phone rang around 9am. It was my dad calling to see what I was doing and if I had heard the news. He told me about the plane hitting the World Trade Center. I turned on the news and pretty much kept it on for the next several days. I was watching the TV when the second plane hit the other tower. I was watching the TV when I heard a sonic boom and felt as my house shook and as I learned that a plane had hit the Pentagon. I was watching TV as the first tower collapsed and then the second. It all seemed surreal, like a movie. I tried calling my two sisters to let them know I was OK. I talked briefly to my one sister, who was living in Falls Church at the time, but only got the others voicemail. Since she was away, attending the University of Delaware and was probably in class, I wanted her to know that we were all ok.

But were we all ok? I finally talked with my mother. Her office at the time was in Rosslyn and they were all told to go home, but traffic was horribly backed up, because all government agencies in DC were also being told to close. What was a normal 10-15 minute drive took her nearly an hour that day. There was one last person that I was worried about. My friend Dave has a framing shop on Columbia Pike, just down from the Pentagon. Since he is hearing impaired and does not communicate using the phone, calling him was out of the question. Because of the mass exodus from DC, I knew driving would be nearly impossible and decided to head out on foot. Both to see if he was ok, and also to get a look at the Pentagon. I'm not quite sure what it is that draws us to things...why people must look at accidents as they drive by...I just had to know.

It took me nearly an hour to walk that mile, in large part because of the cars that were everywhere and the roads that the police had already begun to block off. When I reached the shop, I discovered a closed sign, so I figured Dave was ok and that he had headed home for the day. At that point, I continued down Columbia Pike towards the Pentagon. Smoke filled the air, thick balls of black and grey. I passed many Pentagon employees walking in the other direction. Walking away and trying to get home to loved ones. As I later learned, since the entire site had been declared a crime scene, they were forced to leave their cars there and find other means of transportation. And if they took the metro, then they had to walk to another location since the Pentagon stop was closed. It was to be the beginning of many days of no metro trains or buses stopping at the Pentagon.

What I saw when I reached the end of the street will stick in my minds eye forever. The actual site with my own eyes was 1000x more vivid than any of the images I saw on TV. Which images are from that moment and which are from the countless times I would drive by for the next few days and weeks are somewhat of a blur however. There was this huge, impenetrable structure with a giant hole the size of a football field. I did keep going back to look. Somehow, at first, it helped. In between the threat of another plane, bombs, suspicious packages, and exploding manhole covers in DC, finding out more information and seeing things for myself helped.

I remember hearing that the fire went on burning for days before it was completely out. That rescue workers were working around the clock, and I even drove by once in the middle of the night and saw the huge lights they had erected so they could continue working. Places were established for people who wanted to help. Such an outpouring from people who wanted to help but didn?t quite know how - counselors came, people brought food and shelters for workers; so much love. I remember the newscasts telling people to hold off on going to donate blood unless they had type O because the blood banks were full. A makeshift memorial began at the corner and it was incredible to see all of the flowers and tokens that people were leaving in memory of those lost.

The rest of that day and week is mostly a blur. What I remember are the constant sounds of F-16's and helicopters flying over my house and emergency vehicles driving down my street (Washington Blvd. is the direct route to the Virginia Hospital Center of Arlington where they took most of those injured). I went to stay at a friend?s house in Fairfax to get away for the weekend. The sounds were constant. That's what I remember the most, the sounds of war. Make no mistake, like it or not, we were experiencing first hand war...here on American soil.

I was supposed to fly to Buffalo last October, but was not ready to board a plane yet. It was months before I was ready and even then I was extremely nervous, as I'm sure others were too. Even after the clean-up was underway, other threats kept coming in the form of Anthrax scares. It seemed like it would never end.

One good thing in the aftermath was niceness. Road rage was suspended, albeit temporarily, and people were nice to each other for a while. There was a resurgence of manners... please and thank you...opening doors for others...letting people into your lane...things that were once the norm, but had become lost along the way, returned for a brief period of time. Like many, I began to rethink my life priorities and goals, spend more time with my family, and reconnect with old friends. Why did it have to take such a tragedy to get us all to do that though?

I wonder what the long-term impact these events will have really is. Not that we should ever forget, but we do have to go on living. The hard part is to not feel guilty for that; that we can go on living when so many have died. I have since moved to Buffalo, New York to attend graduate school. The timing right in so many ways...I wanted to pursue a Master's degree, be near my extended family, and be away from the DC area. Don't get me wrong, I love Virginia. I spent nearly 20 years of my life there. Arlington is beautiful, being near the heart of government and politics is great. But it was time for a break from the fast pace. I miss seeing my immediate family every day though. My one sister had a baby in May at the very hospital the ambulances were traveling to last year. The other transferred schools and is now attending Old Dominion University. I try to talk to them both every few days.

The flags everywhere, the candlelight ceremonies, the outpouring of love...I do miss that. On this one-year anniversary, I wish I were able to drive past the Pentagon and have gone to the various events in the DC area to pray and remember. Since that was not possible, I decided to reflect by telling my story here. I want to thank everyone who has shared his or her stories with me. It helps. Talking really does help.