nmah6200.xml

nmah6200.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2003-09-11

On the morning of September 11, I awoke early to feed my then-three-week-old son. As usual, I turned on the news and settled down for a quiet morning in Austin, Texas. When the local newscast was over, The Today Show came on, already showing the first hit. I was concerned because of the ferocity and location of the fire, but the images didn't relate where the fire had happened. Until the camera panned to include the Statue of Liberty, I didn't recognize the World Trade Center. When the second explosion came, I knew something was terribly wrong, but I still didn't understand. I initially thought the first fire had caused an explosion in the second tower. Then, Matt Lauer announced, We are under attack.
I tried calling my mother immediately; she and my father were already at work in Fort Hood, but my call couldn't go through: "All circuits are busy." I next called my supervisor at work, just to speak to someone; she told me they had a TV there and were watching. This was at 8:15am CST. I needed to speak to my family, and next tried my sister, who was living in Italy due to her Air Force husband's overseas assignment. I knew she had no connection to what was happening here since they got very few channels on the TV--what they received were black and white and very static-y.
I spent the next three hours relating the events to my sister as they happened--from the attack on the Pentagon, to the rumors flying (the bombing of the State Department), to the plane that inexplicably went down in Pennsylvania (not a coincidence, we knew), to the Towers collapsing (at first I told her it was just the façade, or only the top). I thank God I didnt know people were jumping (my mother cried as she told me, later that day)NBC didnt show them. I dont know how I was able to tell my sister those horrible things and not break down. I knew I was her only link, at that moment, to home and family, and she needed me just as much as I needed to hear her voice.
Many people speak of that dazzling blue sky and the smoke staining it. The nights are my lasting memory: during the day, I was dazed from exhaustion (caring for a colicky newborn, trying to get my daughter adjusted to a new sibling). As soon as I awoke to feed my son, I would turn on the television. In the stillest part of the night, it was just the two of us, and the terrible wreckage in New York. I felt that while all of Texas slept, I was witness to the night, to the innumerable trucks and inescapable dust.
The full extent of that day didnt hit me until days later. Not until one night, when, exhausted, I asked myself why we had had another child, did I realize what I was feeling. Regretting life? What would any of those who lost loved ones say? What would they give, to caress a loved ones cheek, one last time? I cried then, letting the emotion come I had been afraid to confront for so long. I am so sorry… I cried, apologizing to those who died, to those left behind, to those affected.
I remember when the Challenger exploded, how my parents cried as they told us what happened. I was bewildered: why were they crying for people they didnt know? To this day, September 11th brings tears to my eyes. The victims, the heroes, the survivors, the observers: as Americans, as humans, we were all touched in some way that day.
The greatest monument we could ever build is a living memoryto never forget the heroism and horrors of that day, taking the lessons learned of reaching out to loved ones to let them know we care, to live life as if this day were our last.