nmah6806.xml

nmah6806.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2004-09-14

I was in 8th grade on September 11th, and that morning I was feeling the usual grouchiness about being back in school (it was only the second week.) My math class that morning was twice as long as usual, and when my teacher first left us to go down to the office, I remember she looked very worried, but at the time I was actually grateful for the break in class (something I have felt horrible about ever since). We found out later her son worked in the World Trade Center (he was ok, thank God). No one knew what was going on, really- at first we didn't even realize something was going on. My math teacher, was, of course, distracted for the rest of class, but it wasn't until one or two classes later that anyone really knew how big this really was. I heard a rumor about the Twin Towers being blown up, which I dismissed as completely impossible. Then the principal came on the PA an announced that there was some kind of attack going on in New York City, that he didn't know more, and he'd tell us when he did.

My town is a suburb of the city- about 45 minutes north. Half the kids in school had parents who commuted there. Slowly we all found out more- my health teacher let us spend class trying to find out what we could on the internet- and by lunch we all knew what was going on. I remember kids walking around the hallways crying, trying to reach people on cell phones (service was down all around the city)- and wondering how many kids I knew had lost a parent, how many of my friends' lives had been terribly, irrevocably changed on what had started as just a dreary, innocuous tuesday morning.

School was surreal- some kids were in a panic, others were acting as if nothing was happening- I think it was too crazy to process, yet- but a lot of parents came and picked up their children. I called my mom and she drove my friend and I home. My friend's mother had had one of so many close calls I heard about in the next weeks- she had planned on going to a breakfast meeting in the towers, but decided at the last minute not to. My friend finally managed to get through to her mother, and found out that she was ok- I remember her crying. I remember sitting in front of the TV with a box of Oreos, watching the images of the planes hitting on the news, hearing crazy theories, casualty projections. I remember nothing more until the next morning, waking up to hear the radio station, which had previously broadcasted from the world trade center, assuring their listeners that they were all ok, and it hitting me that yes, it really did all happen.

I think that what should be remembered is first, all those who died, and all those who tried to save people. Next, I think, is all those who lost someone- to me, part of the tragedy was how unexpected and unlikely yet how devastating it was. I think what should also be remembered is the tremendous spirit of giving and kindness that swept across the nation and the world- people standing in line to give blood, the benefit concerts, small towns in kansas sending trucks loaded with blankets and clothes and dry socks for relief workers. The best of the American spirit, and the best of the human spirit, for a few short months, blossomed.