September 11, 2001
We woke as usual at about 5:30 a.m. PDT. Because Larry
worked quite a distance from our home in Dana Point, we usually turned on Today
in LA to see the weather and traffic reports before he left.
A few minutes later, the feed switched to the national Today
Show with Katie Couric. The first image we saw was a tower of the World
Trade Center in New York on fire. The reporter stated that a small plane had
accidentally hit the tower. As the anchors gathered and conveyed updated
information, another plane appeared in the sky and headed straight for the
other tower. Millions of TV viewers—including us—watched as it flew straight
into the building. It immediately became apparent that this was not an accident
but a coordinated event.
I had planned to be home that day because we’d had a water
leak upstairs, and the contractor had torn out part of the wall behind one of
the upper kitchen cabinets to access the pipe. They were scheduled to repair
the damage that morning.
Larry took his shower and dressed as I continued to watch
the news.
Jim Miklaszewski was on the phone reporting the military
response when there was a loud noise. A plane had hit the Pentagon. Jim
continued to report even as the building was burning around him.
As the news grew worse, I felt as though I was watching a
Hollywood movie—a horror one. Except this was far too real.
Then came the report of yet another plane crash in
Pennsylvania…
Since there was nothing Larry could do at home, he decided
to go into work. But before he left, he hung our flag. It was the first one on
the block. By the next morning, nearly every house sported one.
I watched as the towers fell. I remember the horror of seeing people running away, covered in ash and dust, looking like ghosts. I watched firemen who had managed to escape collapse to the ground with tears running down their cheeks leaving rivulets in the soot. The whole world turned into black-and-white images.
So many individual snapshots live on in my memory.
I was still watching as the workmen arrived. They hadn’t
heard the news. They watched along with me as they did their work—all of us
still unbelieving.
Meanwhile, Larry arrived at his office. He was the first one
there. None of the others had heard what had happened. He informed them. The
radio stayed on all day as they tried to make sense of the impossible.
For days, we watched first responders and volunteers work on
the Pile, trying to locate people—at first, survivors and then corpses. Each
time something was found—often a small item which had belonged to one of those
in the building—the volunteers were reenergized and returned to search again.
We were fortunate. Within a few days, we heard from our
friends who were in NYC that day. They all survived.
But far too many families were impacted. Children were left
without parents. Parents lost children. Many lost friends and coworkers.
And the horror did not end once the debris was removed. For
many years, until this day, those who worked in the debris pile have suffered
horrible illnesses as a result.
Earlier this year, I was asked to edit Bob Martin’s book, 9/11
Remembered Twenty Years Later.
At the time of 9/11, he was with the NYPD. He had worked
alongside the first responders. Many were his friends. He wrote the book as a
tribute to those who responded that day and those who volunteered afterward. He
lost quite a few friends and wanted them to be acknowledged.
This is a powerful retelling of the events as they affected
him and those he knew. Two first-person accounts are included. Their stories
are incredible, frightening, and inspiring.
I highly recommend this book, not only because it is
well-written and a mesmerizing account, but also because the profits go to a
9/11 charity.
I doubt any of us will ever actually be able to make sense
of the events of that day, but sharing our memories, watching the TV accounts,
and reading books about it reminds us we were not alone then and are not alone
now.