My Account of the Terrorist Attack on America
Tuesday, September 11, 2001
I had plunged into the workday about an hour earlier, and was just leaving the bathroom when I saw people hanging around Conference Room 504. The TV was on.
"What happened?" I asked.
"Two planes hit the World Trade Center," someone answered.
That didn’t register at first; the fact that there were two planes. I right away thought of the plane long ago that smacked into the Empire State Building. Maybe it was some sort of bizarre accident, I wondered.
But then I saw video footage of this: one trade center tower burning, smoke pouring out of a gaping hole, and then, THEN, a plane curving and smashing directly into the second tower, near the top. Suddenly, this looked nothing like an accident.
We all stood there for while, watching with our mouths gaping as the morning steadily grew more terrifying.
They cut to President Bush in a Florida elementary school, trying to reassure us. But moments after, live reports kept breaking in: a fire at the Pentagon, make that a PLANE crashed into the Pentagon, the White House being evacuated.
No one wanted to leave the TV at this point. As we were watching, the most extraordinarily terrible thing happened: one tower buckled and fell to the ground. Then later the second tower disintegrated before our eyes. There were reports that people, in a panic, were seen jumping from the floors as the building went down.
"Oh my God!" we kept saying over and over. I began to shake uncontrollably. I felt like I was watching a movie or in a bad dream. Sue tried to call her sister, who works in Manhattan. The lines were overloaded. Marie began panicking because her nephew works in the Pentagon.
I was afraid to walk away because it seemed as if every few minutes, something worse was happening. I wondered if terrorists would blow up the White House, the Statue of Liberty, or the Golden Gate Bridge. A sort of numb panic made everything disoriented.
The FAA announced every plane in the United States was grounded; international flights were being diverted to Canada. This came after news that four different planes were hijacked – two in Boston, one in Newark and one in Dulles, in D.C. Two hit the Trade Center, one hit the Pentagon, and one crashed in Pennsylvania. In this crazy modern world of technology, people actually called their relatives from cell phones as the planes were going down. They talked about hijackers stabbing the crew and taking over the controls. One of the flights, a United scheduled to fly from Boston to L.A., actually passed right over the Springfield area, probably as I was starting my day at work.
They closed down Disney World and Disney Land and cancelled major league baseball games, the Emmys, the Tonight Show. The media reported that President Bush was on Air Force one flying somewhere but wouldn’t say where, for his safety.
By now it was almost lunch time, but I couldn’t eat a thing.
In the afternoon, I was sent over to Baystate’s Command Center, where we were on a Disaster Plan "standby." Employees kept calling to say they were willing to help in any way if needed. People began pouring into the Blood Donor Center to give blood.
I was supposed to meet Mark Tolosky to do a TV interview with Channel 22, but in the craziness of the day, lost him briefly. Channel 40 was also there doing a story. All around the hospital, TVs were on and people were talking in shocked and hushed tones. Springfield schools cancelled after school activities; the colleges closed and the malls closed.
Later in the afternoon I went back to the office. The TV was still on; everyone was still shell-shocked. I read a little bit of BBC News on-line, where condolences were pouring in from people around the world.
When I got home I began to cry and watch TV and cry some more. So many people lost for no reason at all.
It was the strangest sight: all of the Democrats and Republicans got together at some site in Washington, I forgot where now, and for the first time in ages overcame their bipartisan spats to express their condolences. And then they started singing "God Bless America." Once again, things felt surreal.
I can’t believe that someone came in and just ripped away the World Trade Center. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe four planes were hijacked, or that people were leaping out of windows. How will I sleep tonight? How will anyone sleep?
Wednesday, September 12, 2001
I’m sitting here in the sunshine on a beautiful September afternoon and everything is so very wrong. I feel as if I can’t bear to learn anything new about this devastation or my heart will just split into pieces.
All day was nearly a repeat of yesterday. TVs and radios on everywhere. News of FBI agents raiding a hotel in Boston; stopping a train in Providence. More reports of people calling on cell phones from those planes. Thousands feared dead. Thousands. The World Trade Center just a pile of rubble. Stories of body parts everywhere; people jumping and killing firefighters, people wandering around the city in a daze, looking for missing loved ones.
Why? Why have we been so violated? Why? Why? Why?
I feel as if all the images are just collapsing into each other in my brain, too horrible to comprehend.
Today I gave blood because I had to do something. There were 50 people there before me – black, white, young, old, from doctors to secretaries and many people who did not work at Baystate. No one complained about the hour wait. People rarely spoke at all, instead reading newspapers or just thinking about everything that’s happened in such a short time.
Thursday, September 13, 2001
Today at work for a few minutes I laughed, really laughed, and it felt so good. But later in the car I started to wholeheartedly cry when I thought of driving to Wal-Mart while someone was tapping, buried under rubble.
Such emotions…such horrible things. At some moments I pray and pray and cry that I didn’t pray more at first. I cry that on Monday night I was furious that Big Y gypped me out of a magazine, when some terrorist-friend was telling a bartender in Florida that "tomorrow Americans will see blood."
I was driving and spilling coffee on myself and people were terrified and screaming in the air above me. It’s as if my imagination is a curse; each thought is worse than the one before it. And every bit of information is just horrid. Five minutes ago I heard they recovered the body of a flight attendant with her hands tied behind her back.
Some things take so long to sink in, and others hit me right away. Tonight, for the first time I really thought about those buildings going down, and how many more were killed because of that. When it happened, it was like a dream or a movie. I didn’t think of people actually in or under the building. I was too shocked that the towers were just gone. I still am.
Everyone’s buying flags to display them in their cars or outside their houses. I went out tonight to get some small ones. At Ocean State Job Lot, everyone in line was buying them. I saw one of the cashiers leave the register to go in the corner and wipe her eyes.
Outside, a huge thunderstorm/burst of rain hit as I left the building. I didn’t even hurry to the car. I just walked and let myself get drenched.
Friday, September 14, 2001
I know I will never forget this day, for so many reasons.
This morning I awoke to rain and cold for the first time in weeks. It was as if everything had shifted and fall had arrived. Dead leaves were scattered all over the street.
I put on my red, white and blue, as did everyone else. At 280 Chestnut Street, some guys from Engineering unfurled a huge American flag down the front of the building, despite the pouring rain.
I still couldn’t concentrate on work. I tried…I wanted to be able to, but I couldn’t. The biggest weight on me is just the thought of all those people…and so few survivors. I keep saying this, but it just breaks my heart. I pray and wonder…who am I to be angry with God, but I wish…I feel like He doesn’t hear.
There was a prayer service in Washington around noon. It was beautiful, and sad, and needed. Clinton and Gore, Hilary, George and Barbara Bush, Jimmy Carter and Gerald Ford were all there. Billy Graham spoke, and George (W.) talked about people looking for signs, and that sometimes God’s signs are not our signs. That stayed with me.
Tonight at 7 people were told to go outside with a candle to show their support. What I saw over the next few hours warmed me to tears. Dan and I were driving down Memorial Drive at 7 p.m., in Chicopee. Groups were outside of restaurants, apartment buildings, churches…waving flags, with lit candles, some with signs.
Wherever I looked there were flags on cars or candles lit in windows. Later as we drove closer to home, clusters of people lined the streets in the darkness, illuminated by candles. Cars, many with flags on antennas, honked continually in support. Later I drove and found many intersections just packed with people. About a mile down the road, Dominos was delivering free pizzas to the crowds.
The sight at the "X" was amazing. At least 100, maybe more people stood on all corners. One had a sign that said "Honk if you love the USA." This is a Vietnamese community and many there were of Vietnamese descent. One man stopped the light to stand in the center of the street with a large flag, chanting "USA! USA!"
At close to 10 p.m. they were still out near home, shooting red, white and blue fireworks over the streets.
Watching all of this I felt moved to tears again and again. Black, white, Hispanic, Asian…rich and poor, young, old, and everything in-between…they were unified before my eyes, and I began to feel stronger. More than ever before in my life, I felt proud to be an American. This is what we have to do to overcome. Fear cannot stifle us.
Dear God, I feel as if I am taking so much in. I’m just saturated with emotion. I also feel as if we’ve jumped back in time and it’s World War 2, and we’re all rallying around a cause. I have never felt like this before, not even during the Gulf War.
I’ve never cried so much while simultaneously embracing hope. I will remember this day for the rest of my life.
Sometimes, I feel the fear of uncertainty stinging clear.
And I can't help but ask myself how much I let the fear take the
wheel and steer.
It’s driven me before, and it seems to have a vague,
haunting, mass appeal.
Lately I’m beginning to find that I should be the one behind
the wheel.|
Whatever tomorrow brings I’ll be there, with open arms and
open eyes.
Whatever tomorrow brings I’ll be there, I’ll be
there..."
-- "Drive"
Saturday, September 15, 2001
There is little to say today. No survivors found, just more horror. I’ve heard such sickening things I don’t even want to write them down.This morning I looked up into the sky and saw planes. I saw them this evening, too, but they looked like military planes, flying one after another.
There are red, white and blue and flags everywhere. Wherever you turn, someone is collecting donations for New York.
We went to a party this afternoon. There were kids all over the place, playing. I wished wholeheartedly I was one of them.
Today Tuesday is hitting me. I’m finally able to absorb the horror of what was truly one of the most frightening few hours of my life. I keep thinking of those reports coming into the news anchors, almost constantly: the Pentagon on fire, the White House evacuated, plane crash in Pennsylvania. Air Force One somewhere secret. I was afraid to leave the TV. I was afraid the White House and God-knows-what was next. My body began pulsing with adrenaline; my hands began to shake. I went into the bathroom and prayed, shivering violently. I came out and watched both towers disintegrate. Everyone just gasped "Oh my God!" over and over. Jenn said something about the end of the world. It crossed my mind.
I thought about the panic spreading rapidly across the country. I pictured kids leaving Disney World with their parents, bewildered. I thought of the skies across the United States being completely quiet, except for those still in the air. Then I wondered about everyone up in the air and shivered.
I didn’t even think of everyone in the towers. Not then. This shock and grief and realization seems to come in waves. Dear God, when will I have a peaceful dream again?
Sunday, September 16, 2001
It’s amazing how every day something new hits me. Today I began to let go of the fear and trust in God, and that felt, in some ways, incredible. At the same time, this afternoon I just began to feel so sad. The death toll has risen about 5,000. Five thousand people. It’s painful to write, to say, to think. It makes Oklahoma City look achingly minor. The thought of all those people and their families and friends just crushes my heart. I wish so badly I could help them, hug them. We all need to look after them in our prayers in the months and years to come.
Around 7 p.m. I decided to drive down to Bradley to look at the planes take off. Something very strong within me needed to see them. God, it was such a beautiful evening. The sky was absolutely cloudless. The air blowing through the window felt like Fall, and I saw the first little pumpkins for sale along the side of the road.
When I got to Bradley, I parked across the street and just watched. There was a US Airways jet right in front of me, and I realized the sound had immediately gotten my heart racing. I tried to ignore the panicky feeling, but at first all I could hear and see in my mind was that first plane barreling into the first tower. After a few minutes, though, I was able to watch it take off, literally into the sunset. I watched until it disappeared from sight.
For awhile I stayed there, just watching and then inexplicably cheering them on as the planes went. I noticed there were what appeared to be military jets in the distance, keeping vigil. It gave me a warm but unsettling feeling. I also noticed the airport seemed very quiet and definitely working with a diminished flight schedule. Still, something about watching them go up and come down helped me feel more grounded. And it helped reassure that part of my mind that felt so frightened Tuesday when, for the first time in America in decades and decades, the skies fell silent.
As I was driving back through Suffield in the dark, I saw tons and tons of parked cars. On the green, wherever I looked, were tons of people holding candles. There must have been hundreds of people, yet they were perfectly still, listening to someone lead prayers for the dead. It was so sad and haunting and beautiful.
Tomorrow we all have to go to work. And soon our country will be going to war. Again, I marvel at how life has changed in just 5 days.
Before I sleep tonight I wish I could rid the latest pictures and memories from my head. Each day a new movie plays in my mind; a delayed reaction. This time, it’s two images:
One is a few hours after the planes hit. Thousands of New Yorkers, covered with dust, eyes vacant, crossing the bridges to get out of the city. They didn’t run. They walked like zombies, as if they didn’t really comprehend what was happening. All they knew is that they needed to get out.
The other is just a whole block of time – from about noon to 3 p.m. Tuesday. They had just announced on TV they thought another hijacked plane was heading for Washington, when Michael asked me to go over to the North Campus to the Disaster Command Center. I left in a complete daze. I felt like a scared animal. I heard a dump truck make a slamming noise and jumped a foot. In the car every single radio station carried the news. I looked up at the blindingly sunny sky and saw nothing, heard nothing. I felt as if the silence was burning my ears.
At the Command Center people were watching TV; phones were ringing. Everyone worked as in a dream. People didn’t yet feel the horror. Later I went back to my car and back to the radio. The day was still beautiful; skies still empty. At home just about every one of the 60-something channels played the story. Even MTV. And the Home Shopping Network. So the nightmare began.
Tuesday, September 18, 2001
Dear God, when will I feel better? When will I feel normal? When will my heart not be so heavy? The girl upstairs always plays loud music. I haven’t heard any in a week. Every time any of us at work hears a plane, we look up and watch, enthralled. We check to see if it’s in the air where it belongs. Whenever a group of people are standing around a TV at work, someone inevitably comes by and asks, "What? What happened?" in a panicked voice. I feel stupid right now worrying about the future, or thinking about Fall foliage. Stupid.
Everything about September 11 was so terrible. I try to split it into parts. Each part is terrible People terrified on planes, some with hands bound, some with throats slit. Planes actually hitting the buildings, killing people. Then, just when you think it’s over, buildings crumbling, killing more people, and rescuers. And now, more body parts than bodies being found. Now, war approaching with the promise of more deaths. I know my hope and strength comes from God. But how, how is it possible to be filled with joy with all of this horror? I feel very hardened. I just wish I could be silly and feel like God is saying there will be no more silliness or frivolousness. Dear God I don’t want to wallow. Still I can’t forget.
Friday, September 21, 2001
After Princess Diana died, I remember going in to work at The Big E, doing ordinary things, going about my business. But as I was stuffing envelopes or typing this voice in my head kept running over and over, saying "Diana’s dead. Diana’s dead." It moved in rhythm with me, putting the rest of life slightly out of focus.
That’s how I feel now. I feel as if life is moving on but how can it be moving on? I am talking and laughing and eating but somewhere in the background I am thinking, "There are more than 6,000 people dead." And there is no more World Trade Center. It’s just gone. And we are preparing for a long war.
When will it sink in? They show pictures of the New York skyline: before and after. I think it’s to desensitize people, to try to help them accept reality. But still, STILL it feels like a bad dream.
Yesterday the weather became gloomy. After dark, it really began to pour. And in my mind, for some reason, I could see New York City very clearly, all lit up. While seeing the city in my head, and the lights of all those buildings, I could suddenly feel the most crushing grief. It’s as if I could sense or even hear thousands of people wailing. The sound went out and drifted up into the air, and my heart just went out to New York. I think, I truly believe, the grieving has now just begun. How I wish I could help! I wish I could counsel them and hug them. I can be here and pray, yes, but I wish I could speak to these people and physically be with these people. I just feel this heaviness, like it’s hard to go about the mundaneness of life when so many people are hurting so deeply.
Saturday, September 29, 2001
Life is better but not normal. Maybe it never will be. In some ways, I hope we don’t return to the days before September 11. We were, I’m sorry, but such greedy, selfish, self-absorbed, spoiled brats. Dear God, please don’t ever let me lose my perspective again.
There are some thoughts I am trying to put aside but it’s hard. I find myself imagining the people on those planes, and what they were thinking. Or everyone at the World Trade Center, contemplating and then jumping. Then I tell myself, "You have to stop this!"
Last night I went to the video store. I checked out the new releases on DVD. Quickly, I became sick to my stomach. About 1 out of every 10 movies had the New York City skyline on the cover. Ghostbusters, Men in Black, Family Man, and on and on and on. I felt my eyes welling with tears and then just grew incredibly angry. How dare they? How dare they do this so that forever we have to see all of these movies and pictures of the past of how it used to be? How could they?! I ended up picking a moving I knew was filmed in Chicago.
I also kept thinking this: I can’t believe I was around for what many feel was the worst day in U.S. History. That just blows my mind. And I feel because of the events of September 11, I am forever bound to that day and the people I was with that day (I only pray there will not be more like it, but who knows?) I can just see it, one year from now; 5, 10, 25…I see myself as a middle-aged or old woman, always pausing with the country to remember that terrible day which is now only 18 days past. And no matter where I go in life, I’ll always remember all of us at 280 Chestnut Street. I’ll see in my mind my younger self as I left the bathroom and saw the people standing outside and in Conference Room 504. I won’t be able to forget, even 50 years later, Elzbieta or Sue, Jenn, Jodi, even Candace and Alberto and the HR people. Do I sound crazy or silly? Maybe. I guess I feel awful, but it is better knowing that millions of us have gone through the same thing. I guess that’s why they have support groups.