nmah466.xml
Title
nmah466.xml
Source
born-digital
Media Type
story
Date Entered
2002-08-28
NMAH Story: Story
was woken by my sister yelling at me to turn on the television. She had driven the kids to school and was on her way back to the house when she heard a plane had flown into one of the WTC towers. I raced downstairs and had just turned on the TV as she burst into the house. We watched as flames shot out of the tower and thought that this must be some awful accident. Slowly we became aware of a second plane visible in the sky and were transfixed as it hit the second tower. It became obvious this was no accident.
News was coming so fast! It was hard to process the horror of what we were watching. We became aware of a third plane hitting the Pentagon as we watched the towers burn. We know people in NYC but were fairly sure that we didn't have a presonal connection to anyone in those buildings--but it FELT personal. It felt like I knew those people trapped inside and I prayed hard for them to escape. My sister and I were kneeling in front of the TV and all of a sudden I heard myself blurt out "It going down!" I am not sure how I knew but it must have been a change in the way the tower looked--it seemed to flex slightly and then just let go. We watched helpless as people ran for thier lives and other were surely lost forever.
There was no question in my mind very shortly into this horrific day that terroists were at work and I was griped with fear. My husband was in India, in a city that was already tense because of friction between Hindus and Muslims. The phone rang at about 10am and I told my husbnd what was going on--he began to gather with other Americans and British citizens to watch events unfold on CNN International. Coverage they watched included videos of celebrations in Pakistan and Afganistan--people cheering the distruction of important American landmarks and the loss of American lives. As my husband passed this information to me over the phone I shared with him the information that a fourth plane had gone down in PA--its probable target in DC spared by brave passengers. I told him Air raffic was stopped and he was now trapped on the Indian SubContinent. While speaking to my husband, my sister and I watched as the second tower and all those people disintigrated. We couldn't even cry a!
nymore.
As the day unfolded and the truth about who had done these horrible things came to light I found myself feeling very restless. I felt like I needed to do something, burn off some energy. The next thing I knew I was standing in my garden in the driving rain pulling out plants that I no longer wanted. As little as three hours before those Gladiolli were no problem--but now they HAD to come out. I need to do something physical, to burn off some of the tension. Soaked to the skin, muddy from pulling out bulbs I could finaly really understand that I was experiencing greif like I never had before. Grief for all those lost lives, all those injured people, and for America's innocence. Maybe it was time to view the world differently but not like that, not at so high a cost. I realized I felt the need for vengence--a surprising need for a pacifist--but a strong need indeed. Standing there dripping and crying I recognised the fact that the world as I knew it was not the world my childr!
en would grow up in--and it made me mad.
My husband made it home 10 very frantic days later--flying in a wide path around Afganistan. He got to come home--so many husbands, fathers, brothes, uncles, mothers, sisters and Aunts did not.
News was coming so fast! It was hard to process the horror of what we were watching. We became aware of a third plane hitting the Pentagon as we watched the towers burn. We know people in NYC but were fairly sure that we didn't have a presonal connection to anyone in those buildings--but it FELT personal. It felt like I knew those people trapped inside and I prayed hard for them to escape. My sister and I were kneeling in front of the TV and all of a sudden I heard myself blurt out "It going down!" I am not sure how I knew but it must have been a change in the way the tower looked--it seemed to flex slightly and then just let go. We watched helpless as people ran for thier lives and other were surely lost forever.
There was no question in my mind very shortly into this horrific day that terroists were at work and I was griped with fear. My husband was in India, in a city that was already tense because of friction between Hindus and Muslims. The phone rang at about 10am and I told my husbnd what was going on--he began to gather with other Americans and British citizens to watch events unfold on CNN International. Coverage they watched included videos of celebrations in Pakistan and Afganistan--people cheering the distruction of important American landmarks and the loss of American lives. As my husband passed this information to me over the phone I shared with him the information that a fourth plane had gone down in PA--its probable target in DC spared by brave passengers. I told him Air raffic was stopped and he was now trapped on the Indian SubContinent. While speaking to my husband, my sister and I watched as the second tower and all those people disintigrated. We couldn't even cry a!
nymore.
As the day unfolded and the truth about who had done these horrible things came to light I found myself feeling very restless. I felt like I needed to do something, burn off some energy. The next thing I knew I was standing in my garden in the driving rain pulling out plants that I no longer wanted. As little as three hours before those Gladiolli were no problem--but now they HAD to come out. I need to do something physical, to burn off some of the tension. Soaked to the skin, muddy from pulling out bulbs I could finaly really understand that I was experiencing greif like I never had before. Grief for all those lost lives, all those injured people, and for America's innocence. Maybe it was time to view the world differently but not like that, not at so high a cost. I realized I felt the need for vengence--a surprising need for a pacifist--but a strong need indeed. Standing there dripping and crying I recognised the fact that the world as I knew it was not the world my childr!
en would grow up in--and it made me mad.
My husband made it home 10 very frantic days later--flying in a wide path around Afganistan. He got to come home--so many husbands, fathers, brothes, uncles, mothers, sisters and Aunts did not.
NMAH Story: Life Changed
It hasn't changed to much. I am not afraid to fly or travel and I do not feel as if I live with any fear. I am more careful about the reality of terrorists -- similar to how I felt when I lived in the UK. Be slightly wary but don't let fear shape your life.
NMAH Story: Remembered
The heroism of those who rushed into those buildings to attempt to preserve life, each and every person who simply had the bad luck to be employed at the WTC or the Pentagon, and the manner in which America pulled together in support.
NMAH Story: Flag
I continue to fly an American flag. I put it up on September 11 2001 and I will take it down on Sept 11 2002. I will pack that first flag away, along with the Red White and blue ribbons that hang on lights to either side of my front door. They will then be replaced with fresh ones in honor of the men and women fighting in Afganistan and all over the world.
Citation
“nmah466.xml,” September 11 Digital Archive, accessed November 30, 2024, https://911digitalarchive.org/items/show/43845.