Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource September 11 Digital Archive Stories Description An account of the resource This collection is the bulk of the archive, representing the reactions and experiences of thousands of individuals beginning in 2002. 911DA Story 911DA Story: Story Tell us about what you did, saw, or heard on September 11th. Feel free to write as much or as little as you like. Tell us your story: SEPTEMBER 11TH 8:46 Herb calls -- A plane crashed Into the World Trade Center. I turn on tv -- flames, smoke, a black hole Through the heart of New York City. 9:02 a second plane, two craters, smoke surges, frenzied flames lash the sky. My ears shut. I don't want to linger More truncated than I am. Fear won't scorch me. Eyes up, I march to the bank notary, wanting to ask each person I pass -- Do you know? Inside, whispers of horror. I, who don't know how to cry, tears drop. Someone proclaims -- It's the fault of the liberals. Three blocks to Voice Stream -- My new, expensive phone, a weak signal since day one. The manager unlocks the glass door, explains, We are closing due to today's events. Other stores closing, closed, closed. Fifteen minutes have drooped our shoulders, Tear-streaked faces, hushed voices. We walk weighted by shock, loss. Communal sorrow - echoes of Kennedy, King. A pyre of thousands. I open my front door, run to the blaring pone. My son - Do you know, terrorists? No; oh yes, the tv said Terrorists. Now only channel 25. Stuttering Replays forward/back - planes, smoke, flames, people fleeing, Osama bin Laden, Afghanistan. War. Watching, nailed to the couch and phone, to hear family and friends. my son, sick, at home, his wife called - Their office - like an earthquake; all in the building ran to the cellar. Management won't let them out. I wish the attackers instant death until sanity softens rage. Next day I hunt in my closets for our 48-star flag washed last night. Wooden flagpole in my hand, where is our folded red, white and blue shelved since Vietnam? I need to drape it form our 2nd floor window to wave America This country, Ellis Island, my family, when others slammed their doors shut. I search between bulky sweaters, paper goods, a faded shirt, tax records. Oh, the red bled into the yellowed white. I tossed it out. I buy a rhinestone pin - our flag made of stardust, and tape a paper flag to my front door, my car window, on top of a gift box. I see stripes and stars in every size: on entrance and lobby doors, on men's lapels, in shop windows, next to Korean, Chinese, Arabic alphabets. The red and white bars - steel beams, the stars - rivets, our World Trade Center. This poem was read at the National Poetry Month @ The Writer's Voice of the West Side Y: After 9/11, Curated by Jane Herschlag. April 10th, Writer's Voice, 5 West 63rd, New York, NY Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource story485.xml 911DA Item Elements describing a September 11 Digital Archive item. Status The process status of this item. approved Consent Whether September 11 Digital Archive has permission to possess this item. full Posting Whether the contributor gave permission to post this item. yes Copyright Whether the contributor holds copyright to this item. yes Source The source of this item. born-digital Media Type The media type of this item. story Created by Author Whether the author created this item. yes Described by Author Whether the description of this item was submitted by the author. no Date Entered The date this item was entered into the archive. 2002-05-01 IP Address The IP address of the device used to submit the item. 146.96.93.228