story6047.xml

story6047.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2002-09-12

I got to work at 6 A.M., and had a lot of paper work to do. I turned on the radio and the computer. The radio station I listen to ususally has a lot of joking around in the morning, so when they interrupted the program to tell of the World Trade Center being hit by a plane, I thought it was a joke. Since I worked as a Central Supply Clerk, ordering and distributing medical supplies to the two nurses' stations, I went to one of them to drop some supplies off and to go to the front office to get a signature from my boss. As I was walking down the hall, to the nurses' station, I happened to look into a resident's room just as the television showed the second plane hitting the first tower of the Trade Center. I stopped in my tracks and looked on in horror as I saw the plane explode and flames and smoke pouring out from the tower. I watched as people were breaking windows, holding up what looked like sheets, and waving to get attention to themselves for the dilema they were in. I just stood there, stunned, knowing there was nothing I could do to help any of the people there. I watched as people starting jumping from buildings and felt the energy drain from me, like a balloon that was losing its air. I brought the medical supplies to the nurses' station and went back to my supply room, sat down, in a numb and shocked daze. I just could not believe it. Needless to say, I did not get any more work done. When it was finally time to go home, I turned on the car radio, and learned of the pentagon being hit by a plane, and of the plane that had crashed in Pennsylvania. As I was driving home, I noticed something different about the other drivers. They were very nice to each other, no one cutting anyone off, no one trying to get to the red light first, just to sit there, and no horns blowing. It was almost surreal, as if I was the only one on the planet. AS I was sitting at a stop light near my house, I heard a fighter jet fly overhead, and then things started to hit me. We were being attacked. When I got home, I turned on the TV and sat in front of it, trying to comprhend what I was seeing, but it just did not registar. It seemed too much like a movie. When I saw pictures of the WTC falling, my heart seemed to stop, thinking of all the people in those buildings, and knowing, there was nothing I could do to help. I felt helpless, shocked and angry. Why, I thought, would someone want to attack the US? After all, hadn't we helped the entire world? Were we capable of helping the rest of the world and not ourselves? Okay, I reasoned, so the US has a few faults, like butting our noses into things I don't think we should, yet at the same time, I would not choose to live anywhere else. I was born and raised in this country and I love it, and have given to charities that help other countries, so why would they attack us? I guess, in this moment, I decided never to give again to any charity that helps other countries.
As I was sitting there, watching the story of the Pentagon, I realized that these people were being murdered in front of my eyes. My sister, having been murdered in 1978, by her fiance, was also a victim of murder, and knew what the families of these people were going through, and were about to. There was no agencies to call, and the need to want to help with at least listening to the victims' families was growing. I hardly slept that night, having a news radio program on all night. It was also eerie that night to. Since I live near O Hare Airport, I was used to hearing planes at all hours of the day and night. This night, it was an eerie, almost haunting silence. No planes. The only thing I heard was the crickets chirping, almost as if they were singing some happy tune, not knowing what took place.
I heard President Bush tell the American people to continue to go on as usual, but how could we? What could we do to help? I pondered these things as I was driving to work, stopping at a White Hen to get a newspaper, still reeling from the events that took place the day before. People seemed to be more friendly, not so much saying things, but quiet and more solem. Again, the driving was more calm, almost like a quiet, panic calm. I had heard the President say the best way to show the terrorists that they had not won, was to go to work, so I did. I hardly got anything done, one from being tired and the other from shock of what I had seen and heard on the news.
After a year later, listening to the memorials, I still cried, as I did when I first heard about this horror. I gave to the police and firefighters asking for donations, and now have a more reverent respect for these brave people, as well as the men and women in the military. I know I cannot blame the whole country of Afghanistan, as I am sure that not all the people there were involved, and when I see the reports of people celebrating the horror that was left in its wake from the terroists, I cringe, thinking that if this happened to them, would we also celebrate? I believe that God made us all, men and women, to live in harmony, and to rely on Him to guide us. Yet, day in and day out, I see and hear stories of people killing each other because they are different in beliefs and culture. When will it end? Are we going to kill each other off completly before it ends? It is still hard to watch any of these pictures. Recently, the Chicago Tribune gave out CD ROM's in the paper. In this CD, it contained all the information the Tribune had about September 11, 2001. I think the hardest thing for me, was to see the number of fire men and police men lost, as well as the number of victims, and also, the most heart wrenching thing, was the victims' families, falling apart when they heard the news. My heart just bled for them. In this day and age, I thought we had come further than that. I just think there is a better way to settle our differences, yet at the same time, am glad there are differences in this world, only because I think each one of us is unique.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. I appreciate the chance to tell my feelings. God Bless You.