Where Were You 8 Years Ago This Morning?

I vividly recall lying in my bed, the radio alarm clock had been going off intermittently for the past half hour and at this point, I was fading in and out of consciousness while top 40 radio played in the background. It was almost 8 o'clock (central time) because at this point, as it did every morning, it had come for the news update. I closed my eyes and began to allow myself to drift back to sleep because I still had 90 minutes until it was time for financial accounting class to begin.

"A plane has flown into the World Trade Center..."

I opened my eyes at the sound of this news and pondered its implications. Small aircraft could become disoriented in thick fog. Perhaps it was foggy in New York City and not beautiful and clear like it was in Southern Illinois. I turned on the television, channel on NBC affiliate from last viewing, thinking I'd get a visual from the Today Show.

The image on the television was the utter antithesis of what I had expected. Yes, it's anticipated that an airplane crash will be bad but this was just shockingly awful. One deep, gaping hole with pattern of wings and opaque black smoke pouring into the crisp and clear New York morning. I sat upright in bed, transfixed, mouth agape and staring at the screen. My mind could not comprehend that this, the stuff of movies, could be happening in reality while I watched. At this point I had no concept of time, merely before and after what I would see next.

From the corner of the screen, I saw a white-silver streak scream across the screen and into the South Tower. I saw the building swallow the plane and then vomit flames out the side. I stared in horror at the building on the screen, bracing myself for the coming onslaught of projectiles to assault the tower. But they didn't come, it wasn't a missile, it wasn't a missile in the traditional sense but a plane used as such.

I called my Dad. I called my Mom. I called Ames. And then, I got in the shower, washed my hair, dried off, put on jeans, tshirt, flip flops, grabbed my backpack and I went to class. Driving up whatever road it was I took to class, I turned on the radio, but the stations were still playing music. I could have sworn that at one point a station was playing REM's "It's the End of the World as We Know It." As wrong as that would have been, I'm positive it did occur. I'm pretty sure at one point I cried while watching the towers burn while dressing to leave. It was the first time I can ever recall crying, or even reacting at all, over something I saw on the news.

"There's nothing we can do right now, let's have class" was the battle cry of my professor. Even now, nearly a decade later, I still don't think this was a callous statement, but I can't really, even now, put into words why. Classes ended early. I was walking to my car and met up with a group of students, huddled around a portable television. We all shook hands and introduced ourselves to each other and then silently watched as the south tower fell. Even on a six by six screen, it felt like that cloud of smoke, ash, bodies, and debris was surrounding us. We all just stood there and looked at each other. Someone choked out "God Bless America, donate blood!" and we all parted ways. I never saw any of these people again but I'm not sure that I could even have picked them out of a crowd after that. I stopped and bought gas on the way home, knowing that the price would go up. By the time I got home, the north tower had fallen.

September 11th is a very abstract thing to me. This year I'm pretty angry about it. Not so much that it happened but that no one's talking about it today. It's only been 8 years and our whole way of life has changed because of it in ways both obvious and subtle.

In the days following the attack, I was in awe of how quiet things were. When this happened, I was living in a flight path and would often hear planes and helicopters passing over. For nearly a week I heard nothing. Standing in the side yard, I stood at the sky and searched for signs of anything that flew but there was nothing, not even birds.

So yes, I remember where I was and what I was doing on the morning of September 11. And I also remember what I was that afternoon, evening and the days following.