story4349.xml
Title
story4349.xml
Source
born-digital
Media Type
story
Date Entered
2002-09-11
911DA Story: Story
I woke to the television as I do most days. I saw the same images and rough details as most did in the early minutes of the tragedy. I watched from the big TV in the living room while Matt watched the little tv in the bedroom. His back was turned to me. His shoulders were dropped, his face was sad. He remembered about the dream he had Sunday night. Two planes flying into the ground and into the water. We watched while we got ready for work.
His work closed, mine didn't. We couldn't do anything since everyone else was affected. The art director was married to an American Airlines flight attendent. They knew some of the flight attendents that were killed that day.
There was fear in the air, rumors gas prices would rise to unreasonable prices. We were not able to do anything, not even get in to donate blood, only pray. A co-worker came home with me so as not to be alone.
The next day, the 7-11 down the street had a huge American flag in the window. The Sikhs at the store wore nametags establishing themselves as non-Arabs and loving America. Some wore baseball caps to hide their turbans. I tried to smile, or be warm to everyone, because there was already too much hate.
You worried about your friends who live in New York, or on the east coast. You heard stories about how someone you know, knew someone who got out, or didn't get out.
That weekend we were going somewhere and at a firehouse down the street firemen were collecting donations for families of firefighters. We stopped at the light, seeing the transactions. We crossed the street and I prompted Matt to give me all his cash. I found five singles in my purse and he gave me five.
I got out of the car and a fireman came over with a rubber boot to put the donation in. He said thank you before I even let go of the money. I dropped it in and the wool lining of the boot touched my hand. I softly said thank you and went back to the car.
I began to cry. In that moment, I became involved in this tragedy. It was no longer a story on tv, it was an action in my neighborhood, it was working together to get through the next day.
I live in Los Angeles, as far from the tragedies as you can be, but everyday I feel closer and closer still. The thought that there is no way to fix it still lingers. The buildings still burn in your mind everyday. The tears still come, not as easily as before, but your throat still feels choked and your heart cries.
Today we continue in our lives. I keep in touch with my family more. We try not to let the nature of fear multiply itself upon us. We hope today is not the day someone will take hatred to another level, but if it is, we will face it.
I love America, I love my fellow Americans and I love the country songs about it all.
GOD BLESS AMERICA
His work closed, mine didn't. We couldn't do anything since everyone else was affected. The art director was married to an American Airlines flight attendent. They knew some of the flight attendents that were killed that day.
There was fear in the air, rumors gas prices would rise to unreasonable prices. We were not able to do anything, not even get in to donate blood, only pray. A co-worker came home with me so as not to be alone.
The next day, the 7-11 down the street had a huge American flag in the window. The Sikhs at the store wore nametags establishing themselves as non-Arabs and loving America. Some wore baseball caps to hide their turbans. I tried to smile, or be warm to everyone, because there was already too much hate.
You worried about your friends who live in New York, or on the east coast. You heard stories about how someone you know, knew someone who got out, or didn't get out.
That weekend we were going somewhere and at a firehouse down the street firemen were collecting donations for families of firefighters. We stopped at the light, seeing the transactions. We crossed the street and I prompted Matt to give me all his cash. I found five singles in my purse and he gave me five.
I got out of the car and a fireman came over with a rubber boot to put the donation in. He said thank you before I even let go of the money. I dropped it in and the wool lining of the boot touched my hand. I softly said thank you and went back to the car.
I began to cry. In that moment, I became involved in this tragedy. It was no longer a story on tv, it was an action in my neighborhood, it was working together to get through the next day.
I live in Los Angeles, as far from the tragedies as you can be, but everyday I feel closer and closer still. The thought that there is no way to fix it still lingers. The buildings still burn in your mind everyday. The tears still come, not as easily as before, but your throat still feels choked and your heart cries.
Today we continue in our lives. I keep in touch with my family more. We try not to let the nature of fear multiply itself upon us. We hope today is not the day someone will take hatred to another level, but if it is, we will face it.
I love America, I love my fellow Americans and I love the country songs about it all.
GOD BLESS AMERICA
Collection
Citation
“story4349.xml,” September 11 Digital Archive, accessed December 26, 2025, https://911digitalarchive.org/items/show/18434.