September 11 Digital Archive

story4317.xml

Title

story4317.xml

Source

born-digital

Media Type

story

Created by Author

yes

Described by Author

no

Date Entered

2002-09-11

911DA Story: Story

It was my second day at a new job, working for an organization that seeks to build interreligious community between many religious groups, including Baha'is, Christians, Jews, Muslims and Unitarians. The night before, my boyfriend had taken me out to an authentic Mexican restaurant I had never been to before to celebrate my new job. The weather of the day was perfect; I felt so much love and hope. I enjoyed the commute along a blue and shining Lake Erie, listening to routine morning news on the local NPR affiliate, WCPN. I arrived at work very early, shortly after 8:30 AM.
Just before 9:00 AM, the phone rang in the quiet, empty office. The office coordinator's husband was calling. He said, "Janet might hear on the radio that a plane might have flown into the building where I was supposed to be meeting today. Please tell her that I wasn't in it." The words he spoke conveyed no meaning. I thought it was a practical joke on an over-protective wife. Until I found Janet at her desk, crying.
Cynthia had come into the office and instantly switched on the portable radio by her desk. By that time, the second plane had hit the twin towers, and we all knew this was no joke.
I had to go to a meeting, a training session on how to show hospitality to guests at free community meals for the hungry. This meeting was filled with church-, mosque- and temple-going Americans who spend their days trying to alleviate the suffering of others. None of their minds were on learning hospitality.
When I left the meeting and switched on my car radio, I felt sure that I was dreaming, or that someone had accidentally stuck a tape of Orson Welles' "War of the Worlds" in. A plane had crashed into the Pentagon. Another plane had circled over Cleveland, then crashed in Pennsylvania. As I listened, the twin towers collapsed.
I grew up in Syracuse, NY and have family in northern New Jersey. I could see the destruction in my mind's eye.
At the office, I shot out emails to family and friends in NYC. I wrote to a friend who had old Navy buddies who worked at the Pentagon. As soon as I could get home, I called my parents to see if they had word from my uncle, aunt and cousin. When I had checked up on everyone, my best friend, relatives, in-laws, and so on, and found that I had lost no one, relief spread over me. The worst that had happened was that my brother's girlfriend's family had to spend the night in Manhattan, since the bridges were closed to take them home, and my cousin was stuck on a bridge on her way home from school. Inconveniences. Those I loved were intact. I felt giddy. The fact that a national tragedy had occurred did not enter into my mind for several minutes.
Then, my boyfriend called. He said that my parish was hosting an interfaith prayer service. He never goes to church. I said I would be there. In the pew with my boyfriend, his son and his son's mother, the oddness of this little family circle did not matter. We were lost together. We held hands and prayed the Lord's Prayer. We hugged and kissed to share peace. Peace. PEACE. The one thing that I wanted at the end of this long day. We sang "America, the Beautiful" together, and tears rolled down my face. I sobbed for the country that I love, for the many who had died, for the heroes who had run into a burning building to save others. I cried for Robbie, an eleven-year-old boy who had to grow up in this world. I couldn't stop crying when I thought about the young kids just out of high school, many urban African Americans just looking for a better chance, who would die in the senseless wars I feared would follow. I wept for the innocents in countries far away who were about to die for something they had no part in. I cried for the liberties I was afraid would be threatened. I cried hard for the road ahead of us.
On the way home, I held my boyfriend's hand. We sat down on the swing on his porch, in the dark, and held each other. We each recalled how we had protested the unnecessary violence of conflicts past, he the Vietnam War and I the Persian Gulf conflict. We tried to steal ourselves up to stand against the tide of revenge, to stand for peace and for the America I love and believe in. But we both prayed, "May it not be so ..."

Citation

“story4317.xml,” September 11 Digital Archive, accessed March 29, 2024, https://911digitalarchive.org/items/show/6780.