story5730.xml

story5730.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2002-09-11

Sept. 11, 2001 started out like so many others. It was a beautiful day here in upstate New York, just as it was in New York City. I kissed my husband, Jason, goodbye and went about my morning with our then-8-month-old daughter, Zoe.
Like always, I had the "Today" show on in the background, but around 8 a.m., I turned the television off and began playing with Zoe.
The next thing I knew, my phone was ringing. When I picked up, my sister, Christine, was in tears. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Don't you have your TV on?" she said, her voice trembling.
I switched the television on just at the moment the second plane hit the World Trade Center.
"Oh my God. I have to go," I said to my sister as I hung up the phone.
You see, for me, Sept. 11 was a huge day of conflict. As an American, I was in shock. I didn't want to take my eyes off the television. As a journalist, my mind was racing. How do I cover this? What is the full story?
At the time I was taking the year off to raise my daughter, but I was on call for my newspaper, The Saratogian, in Saratoga Springs, NY.
Once I got my bearings that morning, I called my editor and asked her what I should do. She gave me the name of a local man who had connections to an office at the WTC.
I called him for an interview, but in the middle of it, the first tower collapsed. "Oh my God," he said.
It was the first time in my journalistic career that I did not know what to do. Here was this man, watching what may have been the last moments of his co-workers' lives, and I was on the other end of the line. What do I say? Finally, after silence, he told me to call him back.
Later that day, after getting my mother to watch my daughter, I headed to the newsroom. It was abuzz with activity.
The atmosphere was very different. Our normally fun, cheerful room was somber and serious. There was such a sense of purpose, yet it was mixed with excitement. We knew we were putting together a paper that was going to be saved. It was history of the saddest kind in the making.
As we met to discuss our plan for the paper, it was difficult to remain objective. All of our emotions were running high. But journalist ethics had to prevail.
I remember looking at hundreds of pictures, trying to decide which ones to use. It was tough. Some were very graphic. There were pictures of people jumping out of the buildings. Pictures of those severely wounded. I remember thinking, "I can't put these in the paper."
Of all of the images of that day, though, one moved me the most. It was a shot of a UPS truck, covered in ash and partially crushed. What made that so hard for me was that my husband is a UPS driver.
Here I was, trying to concentrate on my work, but all I really wanted to do was go home and hug my husband and daughter.
Because the stories were constantly changing that day, it took a lot of work to put the paper together. We worked well into the night, and in the end, we created what turned out to be an award-winning paper.
When I got home that night, an overwhelming sadness came over me. The tragic events of the day finally sunk in. It took a long time for me to fall asleep that night. As I finally drifted off to sleep, I remember saying a prayer for victims and thanking God for all that I had.