story32.xml

story32.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2002-02-03

On September 11, 2002, my daughter, Marielle, and I planned to join another daughter, Adria, and her husband Mike and their two small children at the beach in Bethany Delaware (about 3 hours from my home) for 3 days. At a little after 9:00 Marielle drove up and asked if I'd seen the news. I had been watching the Today Show and like the rest of the world was in shock and denial about what I was witnessing.

We decided to drive to Bethany Beach anyway, and turned off the television just as the third plane went into the Pentagon. I live in a suburb outside of Washington, DC and as we got onto the Beltway (I-495) we could hear sirens everywhere. We were heading east and they were heading west toward the Pentagon. After about 20 minutes on the Beltway we had to go up a ramp to get onto Route 50 E which took us to the beach. As we ascended the ramp we could see billowing black smoke from the direction of the Pentagon.

I imagine that our learning about the 9/11 disasters, with the exception of those first incredible pictures on TV, was a lot like the world must have gotten to know about Pearl Harbor, 60 years earlier. Our news for the next three hours was via radio. Every radio station was affiliated with one of the large networks and slowly the verbal picture began to unfold of the horrors of that morning. The general tenor of the reports was that no one could believe what they were witnessing.

When we arrived at the beach, Adria and Mike were glued to the television. For the next three days we alternated between the grim reality of life in New York and Washington and the seeming unreality of joining our fellow Americans who had picked that week for a vacation at the beach. We'd go from the horror of television images, into the most gloriously bright, blue, sunny uncrowded beach imaginable. There were a few other families with pre-school children, and a number of older people. We could hear snatches of conversations about the terrorist attacks everywhere.

Being with my two grand daughters, aged 2 and 6 months, added so many layers to the experience. In the first place, I was grateful that they were too young to comprehend what was happening. I was appalled when I thought about how the world and their future had irrevocably changed. And it was surreal to bounce between the TV images with its terrifying commentaries and the delight of two babies at the beach. The 2 year old was overcoming her fear of the water,building sand castles with relish and the 6 month old was experimenting with how sand tastes and feels. So simple, so enchanting, so very innocent. At two different times, each of them fell asleep in my arms as I sat under the beach umbrella. Pure bliss for me mixed with the knowledge of the tragedy of so many families who were victims of the attacks.

When we returned home after our trip, the reality of what happened still hadn't penetrated. Six months later, it is still difficult for me to get my mind around how humans could have so little regard for themselves and others to become suicide bombs. Perhaps they needed an idyllic time at the beach surrounded by supportive parents and relatives who could teach them the preciousness of life.